Page 56 of One Weekend in London

Likely close to losing her marbles, Cornelia jabs a finger in my direction but stays rooted to the spot where she stands in all her Chanel glory, making no move to get closer.

“You’re nothing but a classless little gold digger who got lucky by batting her lashes at the first rich man who looked your way—”

“I’d choose your next words very carefully.” Rhys’s voice is quiet but there’s no mistaking the steel behind it. He moves closer, his presence a balm to my soul. “Because if you continue spewing filth about my fiancée, I guarantee I’ll respond in a manner you won’t like.”

Cornelia’s mouth falls open. “Fiancée? But she’s not—”

“Oh, but I am.”

I raise my hand, revealing my brilliant, round, blue-and-white diamond engagement ring that, in their excitement to finally see me, neither Tasha nor Lillian had noticed. The flawless stones catch the Bean’s warm lighting perfectly, glittering for all to see.

It’s been exactly a week since Rhys dropped to one knee for a second time at Victoria’s Gardens. Only, this time, the velvet box he popped open held a breathtaking engagement ring—one made from a simple band his mother owned but adorned with diamonds he handpicked for me.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

As far as the proposal, to my surprise, Rhys arranged for Papaw to watch it live from a hidden camera after asking him for permission to marry me. They have yet to meet in person, but like Papaw told my family months ago, they have to follow my lead, trusting my decisions when it comes to Rhys.

And that’s precisely what Papaw did.

The rest of my family is likely to pitch a hissy fit over not getting to watch Rhys pop the question, but my guy wanted it to be private and special. But even he couldn’t leave Papaw out of it. He has yet to say it, but he loves the crazy old loon already.

Just as I know Papaw loves him.

The sight of my ring is a knife to Cornelia’s eye. Her lips move, mouth working soundlessly. For a moment, I think she might combust on the spot. But then her stare narrows farther, venom dripping from each word she speaks.

“Your money might impress this one for now, but it won’t last.” She juts her chin toward me, her expression twisted with malice. “She’ll bleed you dry and then toss you aside, ruining your reputation just like she did my sweet Maxwell’s.” The woman has truly lost her marbles. “Mark my words, you’ll regret the day you ever laid eyes on Sadie Winslow, the trash of Garrison—”

“That’s enough!”

If I thought the air shifted before, it’s nothing compared to now. Because the first man I ever loved, who still holds a giant piece of my heart in his aged, calloused hands, just arrived.

And he’s madder than all get out.

This is about to get real ugly...

Papaw’s furious voice startles me, but also brings me an infinite amount of peace. I look at the secondary entrance to see him standing there, his weathered face hard as granite.

“I won’t have you come into my granddaughter-in-law’s place of business and spew such poison, Cornelia. Especially at one of my other grandbabies. You’ve said your piece once again, hogwash as it is, now I suggest you see your high-falutin’ rear end right on outta here. Else, I’m gonna unleash Tasha on you.”

Cornelia glances at Tasha, who smiles all crazy-like and offers a little wave.

“Now go on, Miss Fancy Pants Beaumont, and be on your way so us regular folk can drink our coffee and gossip in peace.” When she doesn’t move, Papaw points toward the door at her back. “I mean it, get. You don’t start movin’, I’m gettin’ the broom.”

For a moment, I think Cornelia might argue.

Hands clenched, her right eyelid twitches. But something in Papaw’s flinty gaze must convince her of the futility, because with one last nasty glare in my direction, she spins on her heel and marches out, quickly disappearing.

Silence descends, thick and heavy.

I sag against Rhys, my knees threatening to buckle as the adrenaline of the confrontation seeps out of me. But then Papaw is there, his arms coming around me, holding me up as his eyes glisten, the anger from moments before having vanished.

“My sweet Sadie Lou. I missed you so doggone much most nights I found it hard to breathe while sitting on the porch, wishing you’d come flying up the driveway.”

I cling to him, inhaling the familiar scent of his pine aftershave and the lemony furniture polish he’s used for as long as I can remember. “I missed you too, Papaw. More than you know.”

We stay like that for many moments.

Just holding one another.

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