My sisters, grandmother, and aunt tumbled inside the house, tripping over one another, bellowing questions, hollering dismay, and surrounding me like the wounded wolf in the pack who needed protection. If I hadn’t been so drunk on stress and regret, I would’ve found my family’s fierce intrusion endearing and sweet.
Instead it only served to activate a throbbing headache.
“Time out!” I yelled fifteen minutes later. I stood before Lachlan, my back plastered to his front, my shaking arms extended as if shielding him from an oncoming truck instead of four sharp-tongued women. “Can we just calm down, take a seat, and talk quietly and rationally about this? I can’t hear one of you over the others.” I glared at my grandmother. “Sylvie, I’d appreciate it if you could please holster your air horn.”
As we moved to the living room, temper and confusion hung in the air so thick I could almost touch it.
“First, I want to apologize, Hattie.” I reached toward my sister and held her hand in mine. “I ruined your engagement celebration weekend, and that was never my intention. I’m so very sorry.”
“Blame that on me,” Lachlan said, to my surprise. “The wedding was my idea. We thought we could quietly get married, but it didn’t go according to plan. Please accept my apology as well.”
“It’s okay,” Hattie said. “A little more plot twist than I was looking for in my weekend, but it’s fine. But let me state the obvious—none of this makes sense.” Her attention dipped to the phone in her grip. “Lachlan, your official statement to the press was that you two have dated since you moved to Sugar Creek.”
He sat next to me on the sleek, unyielding couch, one arm resting over my shoulders. “That’s correct. But I’ve known your sister a long time. Had feelings for her even in college.”
Yes. Murderous ones.
Hattie gave us a thoughtful, pensive look, letting the space stretch out in case we wanted to fill it with further confessions. It was a therapy trick as old as time, and I wasn’t falling for it. I would stick to our script, though it pained me to lie to my family and put on such a ridiculous ruse.
“Olivia.” Hattie’s voice softened enough to coax ledge-jumpers to safety. “This isn’t like you. At all. You have a ten-year plan, remember?” She flopped a hand toward Lachlan. “He’s not on it.”
I did not need that painful reminder.
“In fact,” Rosie said, “you told us after your last boyfriend you’d never go off the life plan again.”
There it was. The arrow of hurt came at me with a pointy stab, and I was not surprised to see it still wounded. But Rosie was correct—I’d vowed the summer of my disastrous semester in Italy not to veer from the Olivia Sutton Ten-Year Plan. Then I’d recommitted my allegiance last year when my boyfriend moved to New York, taking my heartanda job that should’ve been mine.
“What can I say?” I literally could not think of anything. I tried not to squirm beneath Lachlan’s tightening embrace and somehow managed a smile. “Love is so…unpredictable.”
“Is that what this is?” Rosie asked. “You two are in love?”
“We have strong feelings for each other,” I said.
Lachlan looked down and smiled at his faux-beloved. “Potent, even.”
“So you dated him but said nothing to us?” Rosie’s hurt look took a seam ripper to the edges of my heart, and I had to turn away. She and Hattie were my sisters, my best friends. “Why would you not tell us? We share everything.”
“I take the blame for that as well.” Lachlan’s deep, rumbly voice vibrated near my shoulder. “As you probably know, I have a lot going on. Many irons in the fire. Because of that, I’ve been under a lot of scrutiny—and for the sake of my business affairs and pending deals, I asked Olivia to keep our dating life under wraps. I was trying to protect her too. It was hard, but necessary. And she felt terrible hiding it from you.” His hand lightly squeezed my shoulder before making comforting circles around my back. Strong fingers swooped and slid in gentle patterns that I tried in vain to ignore. “Olivia cried a lot about it. Wails and wails. Lots of snot.” Then the man had the nerve to boop my nose. “But even with her puffy eyes and gloopy nose, she still looked beautiful to me.”
Lachlan Hayes was a profoundly terrible liar. And I needed his hands to stop their soothing roam that was anything but calming.
“But now you’re certain my granddaughter is the one?” Sylvie turned cold, calculating eyes to Lachlan. This woman had interrogated international criminals for decades, and now she was about to give Lachlan the business.
“Yes,” he replied. “Olivia is the one I decided to marry.”
Frannie cracked her knuckles. “And what do you love about her?”
Lachlan joined our hands, linking our fingers. His skin felt warm pressed against mine. “I adore Olivia’s sharp mind, her passion for her work and her family, her…” His gaze locked on mine, and I could tell he was struggling. “Even her bossiness is adorable. Her need to be right is so cute. Her fuzzy memory of our college days makes me double over and chuckle.Oomph.”
“Sorry.” I smiled as Lachlan rubbed his side. “My elbow slipped.”
It was too much to hope that the CIA Grannies were done. “So, Olivia,” Aunt Frannie began, “when did Tall Boy here first declare his love and affection?”
Remember what you rehearsed.“Lachlan declared his undying love for me in Vegas.”
Hattie frowned. “Where?”
“Where?” I repeated lamely.
