Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
JEN
"She's here. Oh God, she's here." I peek through the curtains at the sleek black town car crawling up the snowy driveway. "I'm not ready. Are you ready? We should have practiced more. What if she doesn't like me? What if she can tell we're lying?"
Jared watches my spiral with surprising calm, considering he's the one whose elderly aunt we're about to deceive. "Breathe, Jen. She'll love you."
"You don't know that. What if she hates graphic designers? What if she's secretly allergic to curly hair?" I smooth my sweater for the hundredth time, second guessing my outfit choice. "Should I have worn a dress? Do ninety something year old ladies prefer dresses?"
Jared catches me by the shoulders, steadying me. "Jen. Stop. You look beautiful. Just be yourself."
"Myself is a nervous wreck who agreed to fake marry a mountain man for money, then actually fell in love with him. That's a lot for a first meeting with your family."
His smile softens his whole face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that way that makes my heart stutter. "The falling in love part can stay between us for now."
The town car stops in front of the cabin.
A driver emerges first, then opens the rear door with careful formality.
A small, elegant woman steps out, wrapped in a luxurious fur coat that probably costs more than my car.
Despite her age, she stands straight, silver hair perfectly coiffed beneath a matching fur hat.
"Showtime," I whisper.
Jared squeezes my hand reassuringly before opening the front door. "Aunt Mildred. Welcome to Whisper Vale."
"Jared." Her voice is surprisingly strong for someone her age. "You're looking well. Mountain life agrees with you."
He steps forward to help her up the porch steps, but she waves him off. "I may be dying, but I'm not dead yet."
Blunt. I like her already.
She makes her way to the door with slow but determined steps, eagle eyes missing nothing as she surveys the cabin and then me, standing nervously in the entryway.
"So." She looks me up and down. "This is the wife."
"Jennifer Walsh." I step forward, offering my hand. "It's wonderful to finally meet you, Mrs. Calloway."
"Mildred, please. Mrs. Calloway was my husband's mother, a dreadful woman with an unfortunate fondness for floral prints." She takes my hand, her grip surprisingly firm. "You're younger than I expected."
"She's twenty eight," Jared says, coming to stand beside me. "And brilliant."
The compliment warms me even as Aunt Mildred's shrewd eyes continue their assessment.
"Pretty too," she concedes. "Though you could use more meat on your bones. Don't they feed you in the city?"
"Aunt Mildred," Jared warns.
"What? It's a compliment. In my day, curves were celebrated.
" She turns to the driver. "Harold, please bring my bags to the guest room Mr. Calloway has prepared for me.
I'll be staying here with my nephew and his wife during my visit.
You enjoy the bed and breakfast. I hear Whisper Vale has excellent gingerbread this time of year. "
The next hour is a whirlwind of settling Aunt Mildred into the guest room, serving tea (which I apparently make too weak), and fielding questions about our relationship, my background, and why someone with my education would choose to live "in the middle of nowhere with a man who communicates primarily in grunts. "
"He's quite articulate when you get to know him," I defend, catching Jared's amused glance from across the room.
"Hmm." Aunt Mildred doesn't sound convinced. "And how exactly did you two meet? Beverly mentioned something about a wedding, but that woman gets her facts mixed up half the time."
Jared and I exchange a look. Here comes the test of our rehearsed story.
"We've actually known each other since we were kids," I begin. "My foster brother Ridge is one of Jared's closest friends."
"The wild looking one with the beard?" Aunt Mildred interrupts. "The hunting guide?"
"That's him." I smile at her accurate description. "Anyway, I moved back to Whisper Vale last year after living in San Diego, and Jared and I reconnected."
"She came into my store," Jared continues smoothly. "Looking for art supplies."
"I remembered him immediately," I add. "The quiet boy who taught me how to bait a hook when I was thirteen."
"And I remembered her too." Jared's voice softens. "The girl with the color coded fish notebook and too many questions."
The genuine fondness in his tone makes my heart skip. That part, at least, isn't rehearsed.
"He asked me to dinner," I continue. "A picnic at Eagle's Peak. And things just... clicked."
"And you married after how long?" Aunt Mildred's tone is skeptical.
"Six months," Jared answers. "When you know, you know."
"In my day, couples courted properly before marriage."
"It was a small ceremony," I say quickly. "Just Ridge and Jared's assistant Chloe as witnesses. At the courthouse in Reno."
"No church wedding? No family?" Aunt Mildred frowns. "Seems hasty."
"We wanted something intimate," Jared steps in. "Something that was just about us."
Aunt Mildred looks between us, her expression unreadable. "And you're happy? Truly happy?"
The question catches me off guard with its sincerity. I look at Jared, finding his eyes already on me, warm and steady.
"Yes," I say softly. "I've never been happier."
It's not a lie. Despite the bizarre circumstances, the last two weeks have been the happiest of my life.
Aunt Mildred nods slowly. "Good. Jared deserves happiness after everything he's been through."
The conversation shifts to dinner plans, but Aunt Mildred's words linger in my mind. Everything he's been through. The accident, obviously. The scars, both visible and hidden. But I sense there's more to the story. More pain behind those blue eyes than he's shared with me.
Later, after dinner, Aunt Mildred retires to the guest room Jared had carefully prepared for her visit, claiming fatigue from travel. The moment her bedroom door closes, I collapse onto the couch with a dramatic exhale.
"That was intense." I kick off my shoes. "Does she always interrogate like she's with the CIA?"
Jared joins me, pulling my feet into his lap. "You did great."
"I felt like I was taking the hardest test of my life." I close my eyes as his thumbs press into my arches, releasing tension I didn't know I was holding. "But I like her. She's scary but straightforward."
"She likes you too."
I open one eye. "How can you tell? She criticized my tea, my weight, and our wedding choices all in the span of two hours."
"Trust me. If Mildred Calloway doesn't like you, you know it." His hands move to my calves, working the muscles there. "The fact that she asked if you're happy means she cares about your answer."
"She loves you a lot." I watch his face, the way his expression softens when speaking of his aunt despite her prickly nature. "She just wants to make sure you're taken care of."
"I know." He looks down at my legs in his lap, seemingly fascinated by the task of massaging my calves.
"Growing up, she was the only one who understood my need for quiet.
For space. After my parents died, everyone wanted me to talk about my feelings.
Process. Share. Mildred just took me fishing and didn't say a word for hours. "
The glimpse into his childhood touches something deep in my chest. "She sounds like exactly what you needed."
"She was." His hands still on my legs. "Losing her is going to be hard."
I sit up, moving closer to wrap my arms around him. "I know. I'm sorry."
He pulls me against his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear. "Having you here helps. More than I expected."
"I'm glad." I press a kiss to his jaw. "So what's the plan for tomorrow?"
"Beverly arrives in the morning. Then we start preparing for the Christmas Eve dinner and our supposed vow renewal."
"Do you think they'll buy it? The vow renewal thing?"
"Aunt Beverly will help sell it. Hell, she's the one who cooked up this whole fake marriage story in the first place.
She commits to her schemes." He strokes my hair absently.
"Aunt Mildred though, she's sharper. She might suspect something's not quite right, but she wouldn't call us out directly.
Not if she thinks it would embarrass us. "
"So we just keep playing the happy couple." I trace patterns on his chest. "That shouldn't be too hard."
"Not hard at all," he agrees, tipping my chin up for a soft kiss.
The kiss deepens quickly, his hands sliding under my sweater to find warm skin. I shift to straddle his lap, fingers tangling in his hair.
"We should stop," I murmur against his lips. "Your aunt is right down the hall."
"My ninety-two year old aunt who takes a sleeping pill and wears noise canceling headphones to bed."
I laugh softly. "Still. Maybe we should take this upstairs."
He stands in one fluid motion, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs around his waist, still amazed at how easily he carries me.
"Show off," I whisper, nipping at his ear.
"You love it." He carries me toward the stairs.
"I love you," I correct, surprising myself at the ease of the confession.
His eyes darken, and he captures my mouth in a kiss that leaves me breathless.
"I love you too." He says it like a promise, a vow more real than any we might fake for his aunt tomorrow.
Upstairs, in the sanctuary of our bedroom, he lays me gently on the bed.
My heart swells at the tenderness in his touch, the reverence in his eyes as he looks at me.
How did I get so lucky? Two weeks ago I was broke and heartbroken, taking refuge in my foster brother's cabin after fleeing San Diego.
Now I'm in love with a man who looks at me like I'm something precious.
"What are you thinking?" Jared asks, settling beside me.
"That this is all happening so fast. We've only been together in person for two weeks, even if we’ve known each other for years."
"And now?" His fingers trace my cheek.