Page 52 of Tessa and Nash

Rose shifts Wyatt, smiling so hard it might hurt. “Come in. Come in. Maggie’s going to⁠—”

“Lose her mind,” Faith supplies, grinning at me. “In a good way.”

I want to believe that.

I step inside.

Warm air hits me. The smell of chicken roasting. Rose’s cooking always smells incredible. Somewhere down the hall, Ellie’s laughter rings out, light and bright. The house hums with family noise: clinking dishes, Boone talking fast, Dallas answering slow.

Normal.

McCoy normal.

Which is exactly why my chest tightens.

Because there’s nothing normal about what I’m doing.

Mom is in the dining room, setting plates with the kind of precision that means she’s been “casually” arranging things for at least twenty minutes. She looks up.

And freezes.

Everything in her stills, hands, shoulders, the air around her.

Her gaze drops.

To the ring.

Then lifts.

“Oh,” she says softly.

That single word has more weight than the whole town council meeting.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, too bright, too fast.

Tessa steps forward. She’s been waiting for this exact beat.

“Mrs. McCoy,” she says warmly. “Thank you for having me.”

Maggie’s eyes narrow slightly, just enough to show she’s thinking. “Tessa Long.”

“Yes,” Tessa says, and her smile is polite but not small.

Maggie looks at me again. I can feel my pulse in my throat.

“This is…” Maggie starts.

“My fiancée,” I blurt, because if I don’t get it out, I might explode.

Silence.

Then Faith makes a sound, choking on excitement.

“Oh wow,” she whispers again, as if the first one didn’t cover it.

Rose’s hand flies to her mouth. “I knew this was going to be wild.”

“You did not,” I say automatically.