Page 97 of Forever To Me

Maggie and Mack both feign innocence at the same time.

“Who?” Mack asks, blinking way too much.

Maggie shrugs. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

I scowl. “You two are the worst liars I’ve ever met.”

Maggie grins, completely unbothered. “Walker, sweetheart, you should know by now—we don’t lie.” She lifts her coffee cup, raising a brow. “We strategically rewrite reality.”

I groan. “Oh, I know.”

Mack snickers.

I grab my coffee and head toward the table, but the second I sit down, Mack perks up. “So, Dad…” she starts, way too casually.

I immediately regret being in this kitchen.

She props her chin on her hand, looking entirely too smug. “Violet sure is happy here, huh?”

I take a slow sip of coffee, pretending I don’t hear her as I fix my plate of food.

Maggie grins. “Oh yes, she fits in so well. The way she’s helping at the bar, making home-cooked meals…” She sighs dramatically. “It’s like she was meant to be here.”

I set my coffee down. “I strongly dislike both of you at this moment.”

Mack beams. “No, you don’t.”

I scowl at them. “I don’t know what kind of scheme you two are running, but whatever it is, stop.”

Maggie tilts her head. “But sweetheart, if you don’t like her, why are you getting all grumpy?”

“I’m always grumpy.”

Mack snorts. “Yeah, but this is different. You’re extra grumpy.”

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re insufferable.”

Maggie pats my hand like I’m a poor, lost soul. “We just want what’s best for you, honey.”

“And for Violet,” my daughter adds.

“And Rip,” Maggie tacks on.

Mack nods seriously. “Rip loves it here. And for the goats.”

“We don’t have any goats.” I give her a look.

Maggie clicks her tongue. “So much undeniable evidence in favor of this arrangement.”

I glare. “This isn’t a damn trial.”

Mack leans forward, smirking. “Okay, fine, but if this was a trial, the jury would already be so on our side.”

Before I can argue, the screen door creaks open, and the woman in question walks inside, humming to herself, her Velcro dog, Rip, trotting behind her as he usually does.

She’s wearing my damn hoodie, her hair messy from sleep, and looking so comfortable in my house that my brain short-circuits.

Pickles, who had been dozing by the door, immediately jumps up and trots to her and Rip, tail wagging like she hung the damn moon.

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