“You need a partner, but you deserve tochoose. We all did, and I trust you’ll choose the perfect woman. I’m crossing my fingers that maybe the Ridge will do some work on your behalf, maybe plant Chloe back in your life. It’s finicky sometimes, but I’ve got a feeling about this one. If it does, don’t you dare let her go again. I’m proud of the man you are, son. But don’t forget to follow your heart.”
The screen fades to black. My fingers drum on the desk as I process.
Phoebe’s laugh drifts down the hall, bright and unguarded. Chloe answers her, voice warm and familiar in a way that still surprises me.
My wife.
I look down at the ring in its box, a classic round cut I always thought fit Chloe. It doesn’t matter to me which ring she wears—Mom’s or this one. This stone is a symbol. A beginning. Not repairing the past,namingour future.
But now I realize the clause wasn’t the truth—it was just the push. We didn’t need the marriage to save the farm.
She chose it, believing she was saving me—because she didn’t want me to lose what tore us apart the first time.
I let her.
It wasn’t intentional, because I thought I was saving her, too. The inheritance protected Phoebe’s Christmas and Chloe’s business. It kept them safe.
And if she decides now that she doesn’t need this, doesn’t need me, I won’t be able to stop her. I want her here because she chooses to be here.
I go back to the safe and find the envelope he’s talking about. There’s no explanation for how I missed it the first time. Panic, maybe? I could chalk it up to the quiet magic that’s been waking up over the last month.
But it’s not generally the type to hide things.
I open it, then flip through the papers. He changed it not even six months after the first amended will, like he knew something was coming.
This changes everything. The farm was never on a countdown. And I don’t know if we’re sturdy enough to survive it. But I want to be. That’s why I came in here to begin with—to find this ring and ask her to forget a year, I want forever instead.
I’ve practically told her that, anyway.
I scrub a hand over my face and stare at the papers until the words blur. We’ve got to talk about this.
A soft knock sounds at the door.
“Aiden?” Chloe peeks in. “Evie said you disappeared. Are you okay?”
She steps inside, then pauses, the face she usually reserves for business sliding into place. She’s seen me every day for a month now, with two years in our backlist. I don’t need to say a word for her to know something is off.
She always knows.
“What’s wrong?”
I don’t trust my voice, but she deserves the words.
“I was looking for something, and found a video from my dad.” I swallow.
Her mouth forms a silent O, and she quietly comes for me. She sinks onto my lap before she cradles my head against her, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“I imagine that was hard for you to watch. Why didn’t you come get me? I would’ve been here for you.”
I wrap my hands around her waist and listen to her heartbeat.
“Didn’t know what it was,” I murmur. “It wasn’t labeled.”
“That was awfully brave,” she chuckles. “What did he say?”
Her fingers run through my hair, scraping against my scalp in a relaxing lull.
“He talked about the farm and its legacy. Mom.” I swallow. “He apologized.”
