Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Savannah
"J ust follow my lead," Jameson murmurs as we approach the main lodge. His hand hovers at the small of my back, not quite touching, respecting the boundaries I'd established barely four hours ago. "And remember, they're more scared of you than you are of them."
"I doubt that very much," I whisper back, smoothing down my navy wrap dress. "And I'm not scared. I'm prepared."
His low chuckle makes something flutter in my stomach. "Prepared for a Callahan family dinner? Not possible, sweetheart."
The lodge's private dining room hits me with a wave of noise, warmth, and the scent of garlic and herbs. The long wooden table is already crowded with people and food, conversation and laughter bouncing off the pine-paneled walls.
This isn't what I expected.
"Jameson!" Evie Callahan emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a checkered towel. "You're late, which means you're—" She stops mid-sentence, her eyes widening as they land on me. "Oh! You've brought a guest."
"Everyone," Jameson says, his voice carrying over the suddenly hushed room, "I'd like you to meet Savannah Carter."
"Carter?" A tall man with the same dark hair as Jameson frowns slightly. "The event strategist?"
"The very same," Jameson confirms, his arm sliding around my waist. "But she's not just here as a business associate. Savannah is my fiancée."
The silence that follows is so complete I can hear the grandfather clock ticking in the corner. I brace myself for the questions, the skepticism.
"Your WHAT?" The tall man—Liam, I think—recovers first, eyebrows shooting upward.
"Fiancée," Jameson repeats, squeezing my waist gently. "I know it's sudden, but when you know, you know."
I feel like I should say something, but my rehearsed explanation sticks in my throat as Evie's face transforms from shock to pure, radiant joy.
"Oh, my dear boy!" she cries, rushing forward to envelop Jameson in a fierce hug. "I always knew when you finally fell, you'd fall hard and fast!"
Over Evie's shoulder, Jameson throws me a wink that somehow communicates both I told you so and Play along .
"I can't believe you kept this secret," Evie says, releasing Jameson to turn her attention to me. Before I can prepare myself, I'm swept into an embrace that smells of vanilla and home-baked bread. "Welcome to the family, Savannah!"
"Show us the ring!" someone calls.
My heart stops. The ring. We never discussed a ring.
"We're picking it out together next week," Jameson smoothly interjects. "Savannah has very specific taste."
"Of course she does," Liam says, giving Jameson a look somewhere between amused and suspicious. Then he extends his hand to me. "Welcome to the chaos, Savannah. I hope you know what you're getting into."
"I'm learning as I go," I reply honestly, earning a chorus of good-natured laughter.
"That's the only way to handle a Callahan man," Evie says warmly, linking her arm through mine and leading me toward the table. "Come, sit next to me. I want to hear everything."
I'm struck by how easily they've accepted this bombshell. Not with suspicion, but with immediate, unquestioning joy.
"So," says Declan, the lodge's chef, as he passes me a basket of still-warm rolls, "how did my disaster of a brother convince you to marry him?"
"It was actually at one of the corporate retreats I organized here," I begin. "We got talking during the lakeside bonfire, and?—"
"And I knew right away she was different," Jameson interrupts, his eyes never leaving mine. "The way she organized that event with military precision combined and just the right touch of warmth. I was intrigued."
Something about the way he says it makes me wonder if there's a grain of truth buried in our fiction.
"He asked me out for coffee," I continue. "I said no."
This earns an appreciative laugh from around the table.
"Three times," Jameson adds with a dramatic sigh. "She said no three times before finally agreeing to go out with me."
"Smart girl," Evie says approvingly. "Never say yes too quickly. Keeps them on their toes."
The conversation flows around me as naturally as the wine. I've attended hundreds of business dinners, but none like this.
I find myself watching Jameson as he banters with his siblings, noticing how his eyes crinkle when he laughs, how he makes sure everyone at the table is included in the conversation.
"More potatoes, dear?" Evie offers, already spooning a second helping onto my plate.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly—" But it's too late. The food is there, and saying no feels somehow wrong.
"Mom believes food is love," Jameson explains. "Just surrender now. Resistance is futile."
"Hush, you," Evie scolds, but her eyes sparkle with affection. "Someone needs to make sure this girl eats. Look at her. All work and no potatoes."
An unexpected laugh escapes me, and Evie beams in response.
"There's that smile Jameson was talking about," she says, turning to the youngest-looking brother. "Isn't she lovely when she smiles?"
Rowan, who hasn't said much all evening, studies me with surprising intensity. "You make him happy," he says simply, before turning his attention back to his meal.
Something warm and unfamiliar blooms in my chest. These people actually believe that I belong here. That I make Jameson happy. That we're in love.
"I told you my family would adore you," Jameson says later, as we're helping clear the dishes. His shoulder bumps mine as he reaches for a plate. "They're pretty good judges of character."
"They're very... welcoming," I manage, still processing the last two hours.
"What did you expect?" he asks, his voice softer now. "That they'd interrogate you? Ask for your references and resume?"
"Something like that," I admit. "In my experience, people are usually more skeptical."
His eyes study my face. "What kind of family dinners did you grow up with?"
The question catches me off guard. "We didn't really do family dinners. My parents were busy. We ate when we could, usually separately."
Something shifts in his expression. Not pity, but a kind of understanding that makes me look away.
"Well," he says finally, "now you know what you've been missing."
Before he can say more, Evie appears, shooing us away from the dishes. "Out, both of you! Dishes are not for the newly engaged. Jameson, why don't you show Savannah the garden? The moon is beautiful tonight."
As he leads me through the French doors, I glance back at the warm glow of the dining room. At the easy affection that flows between them all.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if this were real. If I actually belonged.
"You okay?" Jameson asks quietly.
"Fine," I say quickly, pushing away the strange sense of longing. "This isn’t what I expected."
His smile turns surprisingly gentle. "The Callahans have that effect on people."
* * *
The garden at night has a different kind of magic. Lanterns hang from tree branches, casting soft pools of light along the stone pathways.
"I should probably head back to Juniper Falls," I say, checking my watch. "Early calls tomorrow."
"Let me walk you to your car," Jameson offers.
As we make our way back toward the main lodge, I spot a woman walking up the path from the parking area, blonde hair gleaming in the porch light as she juggles a stack of folders. At the same moment, Liam steps out onto the porch, stopping abruptly when he sees her.
"Who's that?" I ask, noting Liam's sudden tension.
"Lauren Abbott. Bookkeeper and housekeeping manager. Lives in town but works at the lodge in the back office." Jameson's tone shifts slightly. "Also Liam's ex-wife. Mom hired her a few months ago."
We watch as Lauren hands one of her folders to Liam. Their fingers brush during the exchange, and Liam jerks back as if burned, nearly dropping the folder.
"I know how to do my job, Liam," Lauren says as we approach, just loud enough to overhear.
"Yeah, well, I know how you leave things unfinished." His voice is tight, controlled.
A flicker of hurt crosses Lauren's face before she spots us. "Oh! Hello. You must be Savannah. Jules mentioned you were consulting on events."
"She's my fiancée," Jameson says, his arm sliding around my waist.
Lauren's eyes widen. "Fiancée? Congratulations!" She extends her hand to me. "I'm Lauren Abbott."
"Nice to meet you," I reply.
"I should finish these reports," Liam says stiffly. "Goodnight."
As he walks away, Lauren sighs. "I've got those comparisons you asked for," she calls after him. "I'll email them tomorrow."
"Fine," he responds without turning back.
"Sorry about that," Lauren says to us before heading to the parking lot. "It was lovely to meet you, Savannah."
Once she's gone, Jameson glances toward the office where Liam has disappeared. "I should check on him. Wait here?"
Through the office window, I see Jameson approach his brother. He nudges Liam's shoulder and says something that makes Liam's posture stiffen even more. Even from here, I can read Jameson's lips: "Still awkward?"
Liam simply grunts and turns away.
"Family drama," Jameson explains when he returns. "The lodge specializes in it."
"They seem like they have unfinished business," I observe as we walk to my car.
"About five years' worth," he agrees. "But that's tomorrow's problem."
At my car, Jameson leans against the door. "So, scale of one to ten, how did we do tonight?"
"Maybe a seven? We didn't have to answer too many difficult questions."
"Seven?" He looks offended. "I was at least an eight and a half."
I laugh despite myself. "Fine. Eight, but only because your mother was so easy to convince."
"Mom's a hopeless romantic," he says fondly. "I'll see you tomorrow at nine. Strictly professional."
"Strictly professional," I echo, though something about his smile makes the words feel hollow.