What if he doesn't?
I have my shit together now.
What if it's not good enough yet?
I shift my weight, scanning the room to buy time. Framed photos of winning horses, large gold medals, and members of the Cartwright family line the walls. Other pictures boast family vacations, holidays, and kids at various ages.
Nostalgia hits me when I glance at the ones with Jagger and me. Then one catches my attention, and I can't look away. It makes my heart skip a beat. Willow's sixteen, her hair's wild, and her smile is brighter than the sun.
She's going to be my wife.
Only if Jacob gives me his blessing.
Anxiety creeps through me.
Maybe I should do this in a few months.
I don't want to wait any longer.
Stop being a pussy.
He still hates me.
No, he doesn't.
Since I told Jacob I'd snuck behind his back with his daughter for several years, things haven't been the same between us. I want to get back to the way we were, but I'm not sure that will happen.
Get it over with.
Several more excruciating seconds pass before Jacob calls out, "Come in."
I take another nervous breath, and turn the knob.
I'm met with the stern expression I remember from childhood. His brows furrow. "Wyatt. You okay?"
No. I'm about to piss myself.
I nod. "Yes, sir. Do you have a minute?"
His head tilts in curiosity as he waves me in. "Sure. Come on in."
The air conditioner is on, but the air feels heavy and too warm. Sweat pops out on my skin.
"Wyatt, is something wrong? You look sick," Jacob says, studying me.
Jesus. Stop freaking out.
I take in the oversized wooden desk, worn leather chairs, and aged oak paneling. My pulse only creeps higher.
"Sit," Jacob orders, motioning at the chair across from him.
I obey, perching on the edge like a teenager about to get his ass chewed.
Jacob waits for me to speak.
I scold myself again, then sit back, trying to get comfortable. I blow out a shaky breath. "I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Willow."
His gaze sharpens, and suddenly, I'm not a grown man anymore. I'm the poor, scrappy kid who used to get into trouble with his sons. Firmly, he prompts, "What about Willow?"
