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“Me, Ronan, and Mom.”

I almost drop my phone. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, Kill. You know how bad Ronan is at keeping things from her. He broke and told her everything. She booked the flights without telling us, and she took my phone so I couldn’t call you, because she thought you’d try to talk us out of coming.”

“Yeah, because I would have. What … Why is she here?”

“Why do you think? She wants to meet Scarlett and the kids. And Ronan and I do, too.”

I pinch the spot between my brows and groan.

So much for not bursting our bubble.

28

Scarlett

Growing up, Piper’s mom used to say our homes were reflections of who we were. Despite being a farmer’s wife, she worked tirelessly to maintain a home that looked like something out of a fancy catalog, and it really did reflect exactly who she was—someone with absolutely zero interest in being stuck in a small town, married to a farmer. I don’t put much stock in anything Mrs. Bennett said over the years, but I wish I’d paid a little more attention to how she made her home look like that. Piper learned how to keep her house immaculate, but she’s working, so I can’t call her—and I’d really like to call her. How the hell am I supposed to meet Killian’s mom—Dom’s wife—without my best friend to hype me up?

“Um, Scar. Love. What are you doing?”

I look up to find Killian leaning in the kitchen doorway, watching me with a confused expression.

“I’m trying to clean the marker off the table. Aren’t kids’ markers supposed to be washable?” I love my kids, but they’re feral when it comes to art supplies.

I scrub the table with the rough side of the sponge, but all it does is make the sponge and my patience disintegrate.

Killian places his hand atop mine and slowly pulls the sponge out of my grip. “Why are you scrubbing the table?”

“Your mom is going to be here soon.”

“I know.”

“I was unknowingly her husband’s mistress. I have two children with him. And I’m … romantically entangled with her son. She has enough to judge me on, without my house being a mess.”

Killian tries and fails to fight a smile. “Romantically entangled? That’s what we’re calling it?”

“Shut up.” It’s not like we’ve talked about what we’re calling it.

He drops the sponge in the sink, then picks it straight back out and sets it neatly on the drying rack when I frown. “All right. It seems like you’re a little anxious about meeting my mom,” he says, drying his hands on the dishtowel hanging by the sink. It has a cartoon cat wearing reindeer antlers on it and, unlike most of my dishtowels, it’s not full of holes—only because it’s so new. I got home from work the other day to find Killian and the kids had picked up a bunch of new Christmas decor, and the cat was James’s choice.

“Would you not be, in my position?”

“Of course I would.” Killian cups my face with both hands and presses a lingering kiss against my forehead. “But I promise, my mom isn’t going to judge you or your house. If it helps, she’s not a particularly tidy or organized person. And she cares more about sentiment than aesthetic—our kitchen wall at home has had messy paint swatches on it since I was a teenager, because my mom wanted to paint the kitchen, but me, Ronan, and Fallon helped her do the swatches and she said it was too nice a memory to paint over. It’s one of the reasons I feel so at home here. You’ve made this house a real home for Cait and James, and I love seeing the little touches of them everywhere.”

It does help. Of course it helps; Killian always knows exactly what to say.

“It’s just … I’m not naive enough to think she’s ever going to like me, but I don’t want her to hate me. I know I’m probably asking too—”

“Scar. She’s not going to hate you. I promise. Do you really think I’d let her anywhere near you or the kids if I was remotely worried about that?”

“I suppose not,” I begrudgingly agree, but it’s worth it for the way it makes him smile. I never get tired of that smile. God, I’m going to miss it.

The doorbell chimes, and my heart races as we both look toward the front door.

Killian presses one last kiss to my lips. “They’re going to adore you as much as I do, love. Well, maybe not quite as much,” he adds with a goddamn wink as he heads toward the door.

My heart is getting quite the workout today.