Savannah
A week had passed since Alana and I started living with Jackson. His house was immaculate, almost obsessively so, and having Alana there making messes was probably his worst nightmare.
Not that he ever complained. Knowing he was a bit of a neat freak, I always went behind my daughter, tidying up her chaos. I didn’t want to leave messes in his beautiful bachelor pad—it felt wrong somehow.
His parents had quickly stepped into the role of doting grandparents for Alana. She adored them, and they were equally smitten with her. It warmed my heart; my sweet girl deserved at least one set of grandparents who loved her to pieces.
Tonight, Jackson, Marcus, and I had plans to go out for dinner. Earlier in the day, I’d dropped Alana off with Jackson’s parents, Lois and Sam.
They’d taken her to the local transportation museum to see old trains and cars. I suspected Sam was the one most excited about the outing, but I knew Alana would be thrilled too.
As I stood in front of the mirror getting ready, I couldn’t help reflecting on how life had changed this past week. Staying with Jackson had revealed so much about him. Beyond his meticulous nature, he was thoughtful, patient, and an easy conversationalist.
We’d spent hours talking, and I found myself marveling at how much we had in common. I’d heard women joke about needing to "fix" their partners, but with Jackson, there was nothing I’d change. He was insightful and curious, always eager to learn, but never condescending.
And he listened—really listened. When I spoke, he gave me his full attention, his piercing gaze making me feel like my words truly mattered. It was a new experience, and I cherished it more than I could say.
Part of me dreaded the day my house would be ready, forcing me to leave this unexpected haven. Marcus had been pulling strings with a friend at my insurance company, and they were moving my claim along faster than I’d dared hope.
I hadn’t heard much from Detective Detwiler recently, except that they were running tests on evidence—maybe a gas can found near my house, possibly with fingerprints.
If it came back with the right traces of the accelerant they found outside my house and some fingerprints, we were home free. It had to be Roger. Who else would want to destroy my home?
I couldn’t think of anyone else who would want to. He really should have thought of that, too, considering I had his daughter. Burning the house down was a sure way to never see your child again, I’d say.
As I applied the finishing touches to my makeup, Marcus called up from the foyer.
“Hey, you!” His voice echoed through the house. “You ready yet? I’m starving over here!”
I stuck my head out of the bathroom door and looked down the hall. “Hold your horses, Marcus! I’m almost done.”
“Almost done? You’ve been at it for hours!” he teased.
I wagged a finger at him. “Ah-ah-ah, don’t push it, Marcus Gilson. I’ll come down there and smack you brother or not!”
He feigned terror, clutching his chest dramatically. “She’s violent, I tell you. Someone save me from my sister!”
I held in a laugh, balling up my fist and shaking it at him. “That’s right. I’ll give you the old one-two.”
Jackson chuckled as he joined Marcus near the stairs. “Maybe we should just leave her and go eat without her.”
“Don’t you dare!” I called back, laughing.
“Will you please finish up so we can go!” He turned his head so he was looking away from me and said, “Jackson, will you please tell your woman to finish up so we can go eat? I know you’re hungry, too.”
I froze when Marcus called me Jackson’s woman. Not that I didn’t want to be. Quite the opposite. I could see by the look on Jackson’s face he was thinking similar thoughts. That made the butterflies in my stomach go crazy.
Jackson looked at me. “You ready?” he asked casually.
“What’s that!” Marcus threw both hands up in the air, shaking his head. “That’s not telling her to... oh, I give up. I’ll be out in the car chewing on the upholstery till the two of you are done.”
He turned and practically threw himself out the front door, exaggerating his every move like he was a toddler being ornery.
Moments later, I descended the stairs, Jackson watching me with an appreciative smile. “Shall we go?” I asked.
He offered his arm, his voice soft but teasing. “Since you’re my woman now, I suppose it’s my job to escort you.”
My heart skipped a beat. I looped my arm through his, smiling up at him. “Am I your woman?”
