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“Also a worthy goal,” the pastor said. “I’ll get caught up with Mrs. Partridge while Marlowe yells at you.” So apparently the man had a sense of humor after all. Or at least the ability to predict the future.

He and Marlowe walked a few paces away. “I’m really sorry about all that,” he said again.

“It’s okay. Buying me things for my vision board was nice.” She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “Although I find it ironic that even when you’re not trying to make me look like a bad girl, you did a fair job of it. I’m pretty sure your mother hates me now.”

“No. Rest assured, all her anger is directed at me for turning the raffle into a circus. And I’m going to have to assure her a few more times that we aren’t expecting.” He let out a cough of laughter. “But on the bright side, if we decide to get married really quickly, no one will try to talk us out of it. So there’s that…”

“Always a silver lining,” she said. “Especially if that was going to be part of your relationship discussion on the night before you leave.”

Her voice was light, joking. But now the idea was stuck in his mind, complete with a wedding night and honeymoon. Marlowe was definitely bringing out an impulsive streak he hadn’t known he had.

He rubbed the back of his neck and erased those images from his mind. Or at least tried to. “This probably isn’t the best time to mention that my mom told me to invite you to dinner after the bazaar. Lucas and Riley are going to come over too.”

Marlowe stared at him. “Can’t. Grandma isn’t feeling well and needs me to stay with her. We’re going home soon.”

His gaze slid to where Mrs. Partridge and the pastor stood talking. “Is she really not feeling well or are you just avoiding my mother?”

“As far as your mom will ever know, the first.”

Was it a bad sign that yet another girlfriend was avoiding his family?

Probably.

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be over later with some apology flowers.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.” She went up on her tiptoes and dropped a kiss on his lips. “They can just be regular flowers. Those are romantic.”

Nah, Jace was pretty sure that apology flowers were necessary this time.

After one more brief kiss, Marlowe returned to her grandmother and the two left.

Jace went back to the stage and, with the microphone securely off, he explained the situation to his mother in greater length. “One day you’ll think this is funny,” he said. “Not today, obviously, but one day.”

His mother was packing up the raffle prizes that hadn’t been claimed and didn’t seem mollified by his explanation. She shook her head, a faraway look in her eyes. “You were the one who never gave me a moment’s trouble growing up.” Her hand lifted in a gesture of defeat. “How is it that you’re the one I worry about so much now?”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he reiterated.

She huffed at that, murmured things under her breath, and busied herself with checking the schedule.

Jace scanned the area for Lucas but didn’t see him. His brother had sent several texts, though. Long ones. Jace didn’t even bother reading them. He just wrote, Hey, at this point, the only thing Marlowe is expecting is apology flowers for embarrassing her. If I’m late for dinner, it’s because I’m buying them.

He had no choice but to stay until the end of the bazaar. The hours stretched by. He paid for Marlowe’s pies and—in case his mother asked him to bring them to dinner—was ready with a story about promising them to Mrs. Partridge’s friends at the senior center. His mother didn’t ask. Her mind was on other matters.

On his way home, Jace stopped and bought two bouquets, one for Marlowe and another for his mother. After all the work she’d put in at the bazaar, he figured she deserved some too.

When he arrived at his house, his mother and father were in the kitchen putting dinner together, but his mother accepted the flowers graciously.

Lucas was there, but Riley had left the bazaar earlier and hadn’t come to the house yet. Jace helped Lucas set the table until Carson video called, then they both went to the family room and sat on the couch to talk to him.

“What happened at the bazaar?” Carson asked. “I asked Mom how it went, and she said that our family’s infamy had struck again, but she wasn’t up to talking about it.” He leveled a look at Lucas, eyes accusing. “What did you do, and do I need to hire a lawyer?”

Lucas snorted. “It wasn’t me this time.” He jerked his thumb toward Jace. “You know how Jace is usually the favorite son?”

“I’ve never been the favorite son,” Jace said.

“Yeah,” Carson said, nodding. “Jacey is Mom and Dad’s pride and joy.”

“I am not,” Jace said.