“That you didn’t murder me for marrying your daughter.”
He lets out a dry laugh. “Don’t think I wasn’t tempted.”
He hands me the glass. I raise mine. “I hear congratulations are in order for you too?”
“Let’s not celebrate just yet. Not until we see if Marlow let her live. They’ve been in the study for a while now, and it’s gotten awfully quiet.”
“Yeah. Your daughter’s pretty violent when she wants to be.”
“She throws things,” we both say at the same time. That earns a laugh and a toast from my father-in-law—the prick.
Right on cue, the study door opens and my wife and Coach Saunders step out. Their eyes are red, proof they’ve been crying,but the smiles on their faces tell me it wasn’t for nothing. Whatever happened in there, it mattered—and it worked.
Thanks Nonna.
And like a couple of idiots in love, me and the prick just stand there—grinning like fools at the women we call ours.
Marlow
When Eslin and I step out of the study, my chest feels hollow and full all at once. The tears dried on my face aren’t pretty, but the smile tugging at my lips is real. She and I finally said the things we needed to say—the ugly, the honest, even the ones that hurt—and somehow, it stitched us back together.
My eyes sweep the room until they land on my dad. His expression softens the way it always does when he sees me. I square my shoulders and force the words out before I can chicken out.
“Daddy,” I say, voice low. “I’m sorry. For making it seem like you were the only one who could derail my career. That wasn’t fair. The truth is…I carry just as much responsibility for that. And, as luck would have it, it’s my scandal—the mess I created—that could undo everything for me and everyone else.”
Something shifts in his gaze, and before I can say anything else, Dad pulls me straight into his chest. His arms are solid, grounding, and for a second I let myself sink into it like I did when I was a little girl.
“No more secrets,” he murmurs into my hair.
I nod against him, whispering back, “No more lies.”
“Never again,” he promises.
Whenhe finally lets me go, he reaches for Eslin, pulling her close too. She startles at first, then melts against him, and I open my arms wide, stepping in so we’re all wrapped up together.
It feels like a choice—his, mine, all of ours. A quiet promise that we’re a family now. That no matter how messy or complicated it gets, Eslin belongs here too. She’s home.
***
By Sunday, Eslin, Dad, and even Declan have all thrown themselves headfirst into crisis clean-up mode. But Saturday night felt like a different world—Eslin in the kitchen whipping up homemade hot cocoa, Declan pulling out his special biscotti recipe, the four of us ending the night with a ridiculous game of truth or dare just to peel back another layer and learn each other better. For a while, it felt…normal. Like we weren’t patching together some messy, unconventional family, but stepping into one that had always been waiting for us.
And I love it here.
But Sunday isn’t about cozy. It’s about action. And the best thing aboutmyfamily—and the ones who’ve stepped in when I’ve needed them—is that when it’s time to get down to business, no one wastes a second.
We call Tatum and the rest of the PR team, settle around the dining table, and dive headfirst into strategy mode. Declan, suddenly the paranoid one about unsecured phones—a side of him that keeps peeling back more of who he really is—insisted everyonecome to the lake house in person. Daddy didn’t argue. In fact, he agreed right away, pointing out that Kennedy clearly had access to information he shouldn’t, and until we figured out his source, we needed to keep everything close to the chest.
Even Daddy’s blood seems to run cold when Declan mutters, “He’ll be handled by morning.”
None of us knows exactly what that means—and none of us dares to ask.
When the crisis team shows up, ideas fly fast—damage control statements, staged photo ops, spin tactics that might soften the scandal while keeping my job secure, my image intact, and my pregnancy hidden. Every option feels impossible, reckless, or both… until one finally lands.
“A Christmas wedding!” Tatum belts out.
I clutch my belly like I can already feel what’s growing inside. “I’m sorry, what?”
“O.M.G. It’s perfect!” Eslin claps, eyes shining.
