I stare straight ahead, jaw tight. “I’m not giving her the chance to be inappropriate. Not with you.”

  “Favorite, there is no universe where I’d ever be interested in your mother.”

  “I know. This isn’t about that. I trust you. I don’t want to put you in a position where she makes you uncomfortable. Or where I have to pretend everything is okay to keep the peace.”

  “If she so much as breathes in my direction wrong, I’m following your lead. No fake smiles. No playing nice for people who don’t deserve it.”

  A laugh slips out—dry, disbelieving. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s absurd that this even needs to be said to the man I’m marrying. “Thanks for being in my corner.”

  He reaches over, giving my thigh a gentle squeeze. “Always. Yours is the only side I’ll ever be on.”

  We check into the newest hotel in town—sleek, fresh, still smelling of paint and new carpet. It’s not luxurious enough for a bellhop, but it tries. Clean lobby. Modern fixtures. Muted gold accents that want to whisper elegance. It’s not Sebring Hotels—nothing ever is—but it holds its own.

  The road to Robin’s place curves through a past I’ve never quite outrun—familiar mailboxes, peeling porches, ghosts of sixteen still clinging to every turn. I grip the wheel, gaze fixed ahead, shoulders coiled tight. Beside me, Alex is all quiet composure, his hand loose on his knee. But the closer we get, the heavier the air sits on my chest.

  This isn’t the house I grew up in—Robin’s been bouncing from one rental to the next ever since her last landlord had enough. But the bones of this place feel familiar in all the worst ways. Weather-beaten siding, a front yard with more weeds than grass, and a porch swing that creaks.

  I step out of the car, and I’m seventeen again—raw at the edges and bracing for impact.

  Robin shoves open the screen door before we’re halfway up the walk, arms wide and smile stretched a little too tight. “Well, look at you,” she says, her eyes dragging over Alex like he’s the dessert tray she didn’t order but plans to sample anyway. “Aren’t you something else?”

  Charlene appears behind her, cigarette perched between two fingers, lipstick smeared on the filter. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she drawls, giving Alex a slow once-over. “You sure did good for yourself with this one, Maggie.”

  Alex steps forward with the ease of a man raised to respect women no matter how much they test his patience. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Robin, Ms. Charlene,” he says with a polite nod. His smile is practiced—the same one he offers reporters who poke too close to the truth. It’s perfectly charming, perfectly controlled, and nowhere near his eyes.

  Robin flutters toward Alex, already playing hostess, already laying it on thick, acting the part of the doting mother of the bride. Her voice lifts with a laugh too sugary to be sincere. “Come in, come in! We’ve been dying to meet you and hear all about the wedding.”

  Charlene links her arm through mine as though we’re bosom buddies. “Honey, I want to see that ring. I bet it’s gorgeous.” She grabs my left hand before I can stop her, yanking it up for inspection. “Well, damn. Would you look at that rock?” She whistles low. “Is that thing real?”

  Robin leans in, inspecting. “Lord have mercy. That thing looks like what Rose threw off the Titanic.”

  Charlene puts on her Dollar Tree reading glasses. “How many carats is that?”

  “I don’t know. That’s not what’s important to me,” I say, slipping my hand free from hers.

  “Maggie, come help me in the kitchen with that casserole I made. You’re always so good at that kind of thing,” Robin says, all syrup and smiles.

  I laugh—because Robin hasn’t served a damn thing in my entire life that didn’t come frozen or from a drive-thru window. But I go, because I know the drill. Whatever she’s about to serve up is not food.

  Robin’s arm slides around my shoulders, steering me toward the back of the house with syrupy insistence. “Come on, honey. Let’s have a little chat while Mama keeps your fiancé entertained.”

  I glance back just in time to catch Charlene handing Alex a beer, the can already hissing open while a freshly lit Marlboro hangs from the corner of her mouth.

  So. Fucking. Embarrassing.

  Charlene’s going on about some kind of nonsense and Alex—bless him—is humoring her with a smile you give someone whose last good idea probably happened in the early ‘80s.

  Robin’s barely in the kitchen before she spins on me.

  “I googled him, Maggie.” She says it casually, but I know what’s coming. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

  I cross my arms and lean against the counter, bracing. “Okay.”

  “He’s richer than sin, ain’t he?”

  There it is.

  Alex and I have never talked numbers, so it’s not a lie. Not that I’d lose sleep lying to her anyway. “I’m not privy to Alex’s finances.”

  She barks a laugh, full of disbelief and judgment. “You’re marrying him, honey. You mean to tell me you don’t know how much money that man’s sitting on?”

  “I didn’t fall in love with his net worth.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Her voice sharpens. “Men like that don’t marry women like us unless there’s a catch.”

  I stiffen, blood pounding in my ears. “Perhaps he’s marrying me because he loves me. Because I’m worth loving.”

  Robin’s lips twist. “Well, I doubt that.” She leans in, conspiratorial. “It’s time you started thinking about how this could work for you.”

  I look her dead in the eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, come on.” She waves her hand like I’m being dramatic. “Not now, but after the wedding, you could help your family. We’ve had a rough year.”

  There it is. The real ask.

  “I don’t have money to give you, Robin. And I don’t have access to his either.”

  “But you will after you’re married,” she says, all breezy confidence. “Unless he’s makin’ you sign a prenup. Is he?”

  I grit my teeth. “There’s no prenup.”

  She laughs, delighted. “Lord, Maggie, you’re sittin’ on a gold mine. You better hold on to that man tighter than a tick on a hound.”

  “His money is his money. I’m still building something on my own, and I’ll keep building it, married or not.”

  Robin rolls her eyes. “You need to quit playin’ around and get yourself pregnant. That’s the only way to keep a man like that. Wedding rings slip off easy. A baby? That’s what locks ’em in.”

  My body stiffens. “I would never use a child as a bargaining chip. I’m not you.”

  She doesn’t flinch. Just smiles, tight-lipped and smug. “You owe this family, Maggie. After everything I gave up raisin’ you, you finally got a shot to give something back.”

  I blink, stunned. My jaw works, but no words come—at first. Then it breaks loose, sharp and clean. “You didn’t raise me. You endured me. There’s a difference. You want to cash in on my marriage as if it’s a scratch-off win? Go find another ticket, Robin. I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

  No pause. No second look. Only the sound of my steps as I walk away.

  Out the front door. Down the creaking steps. Across the patchy yard where sunburnt grass curls around crushed beer cans—leftovers from nights that ended in bad decisions.

  The heat slaps me, thick and damp, clinging to my skin. I press a hand to my chest, trying to slow the riot inside me, but my heart’s sprinting.

  A moment later, I hear the screen door creak open behind me. Alex’s voice is low and even. “You want company, or should I give you space?”

  I shake my head. “Stay.”

  He stands beside me. Doesn’t touch me or say anything. Just waits.

  “She asked if I’d give her money after I marry you.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “I expected her to ask for money. Honestly, I was ready for that. But that’s not what got to me. It was when she said I should get pregnant—fast, suggesting that a baby should be used to lock you in. As though love wasn’t enough.”

  I shake my head, the words thick in my chest. “It’s not about the greed. It’s the way she doubts your love for me—suggesting I’m not worthy of it. And worse… the suggestion of using my child as a pawn to hold on to you and your money.”

  A slow, cleansing breath moves through me as I inhale, steadying my nerves and quieting the noise within. “It’s silly to keep holding out for a version of her that doesn’t exist. I’m done contorting myself for a woman who never had room for me in the first place. I choose peace… even if it means choosing distance.”

  Alex steps closer. “We’ll build that space together. As wide and strong as you need it. No one gets through unless you say so.”

  His words settle in my chest—quiet, warm, unshakable.

  And for the first time since we got here, I breathe without flinching.

  We don’t go back inside.

  Not to explain. Not to smooth things over. Not even to collect whatever politeness I left sitting on the kitchen counter.

  Alex slides his fingers through mine as we walk to the car, and that’s all the closure I need. No apologies. No last scene. Just the clean, quiet break of a woman choosing herself.

  Because I don’t owe them anything.

  Not a thank-you.

  Not a promise.

  Not even a goodbye.

  And that truth? It tastes like freedom.

  Chapter 3

  Magnolia Steel

  A country isn’t the only thing I’m leaving behind.

  Violet.

  Our goodbye is going to sit with me for a long time. Not because I question leaving—but because she made it so damn hard to go. She held on, her fingers digging in, her cheek pressed to mine.

  I didn’t cry as I was leaving. Neither did she. But I haven’t stopped feeling it since––the ache of being loved to that degree and the quiet grief of walking away from it. That chapter’s closed, but even knowing I made the right choice, it still hurts.

  There’s a hollow ache in my chest as we pull into the Sebring driveway. This is the trade-off. Not a loss but a shift. I’m stepping into the rest of my life.

  The front door barely clicks open before Malie’s arms are around me, her cheek pressed to mine.

  “You’re home, lo’u afafine,” she whispers.

  Lo’u afafine. Not palagi.

  “Lo’u afafine?”

  “My daughter,” Alex says, translating the Samoan words for me.

  Something inside me wobbles, then settles. It’s as though my heart has found a place to rest.

  Not tolerated. Not temporary. Chosen.

  Emotion rises in my throat. “I’m so happy to be here. For good, this time, Tinā.”

  Her breath catches, and she presses a hand to her chest, eyes glistening.

  She pulls me in again, holding tight. “You are ours now. Always.”

  And for the first time in my life, I believe it.

  Alexander pulls me in tight, a bottle of wine in his hand. “Welcome home, Magnolia.”

  “Thank you.”

  He lifts the bottle of wine. “I think we should celebrate the best decision Alex has ever made.”

  Elias barrels in like a human golden retriever, all joy and zero brakes. He scoops me up in a bear hug that lifts me off the floor. “My teine is home!” he says, spinning me in a full circle before setting me down with a grin that lights up the whole room.

  “Be bloody careful with her, Elias. That’s my missus you’re slinging ’round like a sack of spuds.”

  “I reckon she’s all right. I’m just giving my teine a proper welcome back.”

  It’s chaos. Beautiful, ordinary chaos. Voices overlap. Someone turns on the music. Malie’s already offering me food. Alex is laughing with Elias in the background, and I stand there for a second, trying to take it all in.

  Alex’s hand lands on the small of my back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I nod, swallowing the emotions caught in my throat. “I’m finally home.”

  Malie waves me toward the kitchen. “Tears are allowed but only if you’re holding panikeke in one hand and a proper drink in the other.”

  Panikeke—Malie’s famous banana fritters. Sweet, golden, bite-sized pieces of heaven.

  “Yes, please,” I say, already reaching for the plate she’s loaded down with enough fritters for a small army.

  Malie gives me a sly smile. “This table is getting bigger now. That’s how I like it. More room for the people we love.”

  I glance toward the dining table, extra leaf locked in place, and a new chair added. It almost knocks the wind out of me.

  My seat at the table.

  Not borrowed. Not temporary. Not squeezed in with a folding chair and an apology.

  Mine. Because I belong here.

  We settle in—bowls passed from hand to hand. Family style. I like that a lot.

  The room hums with laughter and clinking forks, but across from me, Elias slows. His fork hovers over his plate, forgotten for a moment. “I miss Violet. A lot.”

  I glance up, catching the sadness in his eyes. “She misses you, too. She told me to tell you that. Twice, actually.”

  At the end of the table, Malie perks up, setting down her glass. “Who’s Violet?”

  Elias shifts in his seat. “A woman I met in the States.”

  Malie’s eyes gleam with curiosity. “Simply met, and that’s it?”

  Alex chuckles into his drink. “Attached at the hip would be a better description. They were inseparable.”

  Actually attached somewhere else would be more accurate.

  “Who is this woman, Elias?” Malie asks, fully invested now, her eyes flicking between her son and me.

  “Violet is my best friend,” I say, giving Malie a little context so she knows Violet isn’t some fling or passing fancy. She’s someone who matters.

  “Ohhh?” Malie lifts her brows, curiosity piqued. “Tell me about this Violet.”

  Elias leans back in his chair, smiling. “She’s smart and so damn funny. A straight shooter—calls it like she sees it––no sugarcoating. But kind. And she’s a real stunner. I mean stop-you-in-your-tracks kind of beautiful. Yet she doesn’t act as though she knows it.”

  Malie’s expression softens, warm and knowing. “Sounds as though you think a lot of this woman.”

  “She’s special,” Elias says, shrugging. “But she’s got her life in the States. I’ve got mine here.”

  Malie hums, eyes flicking between the two brothers. “The thing about distance—it doesn’t stand a chance when two hearts refuse to stay apart.”

  A shadow of something wistful passes through Elias’s eyes. “I’m not sure she’s interested in anything like that.”

  “She is,” I say, no hesitation.

  I bite back a smile, hearing Violet’s voice in my head—deadpan, sarcastic, and definitely ready to rip me a new one for daring to speak on her behalf. She’d tell me to mind my own business and stop pretending to be a matchmaker.

  “Really?”

  Did the idea never occur to him?

  “Yeah, really.” I tip my head. “How could you not pick up on that after all the time you spent together? She barely let you out of her sight. For Violet, that’s basically the equivalent of wearing a neon sign that says, ‘I’m into you.’”

  He freezes, lips parted as though a comeback was forming but got lost in translation. For once, Elias doesn’t have something quick to say.

  “Love across oceans isn’t for the faint of heart,” Malie says, “But when it’s meant to be—when the person’s worth it—you find a way. Look at these two. Miles, messes, time zones––none of it stopped them.”

  Alexander nods. “Your mum is right, son. Distance is tough, but it doesn’t have to be the end. Hell, I nearly lost Malie because I didn’t speak up soon enough. If you have something real and good, you don’t wait for perfect timing. You jump.”

  Alex grins, catching Elias’s attention. “Violet’s no ordinary girl, mate. She’s clever, funny, and miles out of your league. Better step up before you miss your shot.”

  “Oh, we’re doing back-to-back Sebring romances with Southern belles now?” Leilani raises a brow. “What is this, a franchise?”

  “If she’s anything as you described, she’s not one you let go of without trying,” Malie says.

  He leans back in his chair, stunned. “Hell. I wasn’t aware she felt that way. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have walked away so easily.”

  Malie has a calm authority about her, one that only a mother can manage. Firm but loving. “Well, now that you know, it’s only fair she does, too. Don’t sit on that kind of truth, Elias. It has a way of slipping through your fingers if you wait too long. Ask your brother.”

  Alex’s phone vibrates, and he glances down with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s Kye. He and Krishna want to meet for dinner tomorrow night. Says his missus is dying to meet the woman who has the power to tame The Wall.”

  Malie studies Alex, and something in her expression shifts—perhaps her Malietoa senses are kicking in. “You’re still close with Kye?”

  Alex nods. “We’ve stayed in touch.”

  He glances at me, and I see it—only a flicker but enough. The hesitation. The weight of something he’s been carrying in secret. A truth sitting heavy in his chest.

  He clears his throat. “There’s something I need to share with all of you.”

  The room quiets in an instant.

  Leilani’s eyes go wide. “Okay, this is giving serious baby announcement vibes. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  “Leilani,” Malie scolds, shooting her a look. “You can’t just blurt that out.” She hesitates. “Wait… are you?”

  “Sorry to disappoint but no baby.” Alex reaches for my hand beneath the table, his grip warm and tight. “I’ve decided to go back to rugby.”

  A beat passes. And another. Conversation stalls as everyone around the table glances from one face to another, trying to make sense of what Alex has said.