Page 185

I slide her coffee across the counter, and she takes a sip just as Aspen comes running back into the kitchen with a bag slung over her shoulder.

A very full bag.

Apparently, afternoon tea requires enough supplies to survive a three-day camping trip.

Courtney looks her over. “Where are your shoes, hon?”

Aspen stops and looks down at her sock-covered feet. “Oh. I knew I forgot something.”

I laugh as she races away again. “This kid is something else.”

“She definitely is.” Courtney watches the hallway for a moment before clearing her throat and looking back at me. “I also wanted to say that Dean seems happy. So does Aspen.”

Something warm settles inside my chest.

“I’m glad you two worked out whatever happened,” she continues. “Aspen’s crazy about you. Dean is too, for that matter.”

“Thanks.” I smile despite myself. “They’re both pretty great.”

Courtney returns the smile, and some of the tension I’ve been carrying finally eases.

Well, this conversation was significantly less horrifying than expected.

Aspen returns with her shoes on just as a car horn sounds outside.

“Nana!” she squeals, grabbing Courtney’s hand.

I walk them to the door and watch as they head toward Dean’s mom waiting in the driveway. Once they’re gone, I finally check my phone and find the message Dean sent earlier explaining the plan.

ME: Your mom just picked up Courtney and Aspen. I’m going to check on my garden, but I’ll be back tonight. X

His response arrives less than a minute later.

Mr. Ashford: You better be.

I smile at the screen.

Who could turn down Mr. Ashford?

Certainly not me, apparently.

* * *

I’m halfway through deciding whether my herb garden is dead or simply dramatic when someone knocks on my front door.

My shoulders tense before I can stop them, but the reaction passes almost as quickly as it comes. It’s broad daylight. I’m outside. I’m okay.

Progress, I suppose.

“Coming!”

I wipe my hands on my jeans and head inside, expecting—

Well, I don’t actually know who I’m expecting.

It certainly isn’t Rory Ashford standing on my porch holding a bottle of wine.

“Are you busy?” she asks.