A soft tiny mew caught Olive’s attention. Her gaze darted downward, landing on a tiny gray-white kitten fixing her with a stare, its slightly crossed pale blue eyes wide. “Hey there, little one.” She held out a hand toward the kitten, only for the tiny creature to hiss and dart back. “Tiny frame, huge attitude, huh? I’m not here to hurt you, promise.” “Maybe you are, but she definitely isn’t,” Grandma said, stepping out onto the porch with a wooden tray. “That’s a stray that wandered onto our land out of nowhere yesterday. I named her Pepper—perfect for such a feisty little spitfire.” “She’s way too skinny.” “I know. I’ve been leaving bowls of kibble and fresh water out for her, and I’m gonna feed you in a sec.” Olive turned to face Grandma and chuckled, spotting the tray piled with cold milk and chocolate chip cookies—just like their childhood afternoon rituals. Grandma gave a big grin: “I’ve always loved strays of all kinds.” Olive dipped a cookie into her milk, watching closely to get the soak just right—too short and it stays dry, too long and it turns to mush. “Is work stress getting to you? I thought you adored living in London and running your own firm.” Olive thought about it, leaning forward over her mug, only to accidentally spill milk all down her sundress. Great. “I really do love it—London’s awesome, and being my own boss is even better.” Grandma dunked her cookie flawlessly, lifting it to her mouth with zero spills. “While you’re here, I need your PR help at the local senior center. We wanna expand our facilities and need help getting funding.” “Absolutely, I’d love to help.” Grandma’s grin widened. “What about your boyfriend? His name was Ian, right? The one who got you that pretty silver bracelet.” Ian was the last person she wanted to talk about. He’d left her emotionally wrecked, with constant headaches and trust issues after cheating on a friend she thought was close. She’d bought that bracelet for herself after they split up. “I’m… seeing someone new.” “Oh, that’s awesome news,” Grandma brightened instantly. “What’s his name?” “Matt.” He’s funny, kind, loyal, has a solid job, and comes from a loving family. The catch? He’s totally made up—so he’s the perfect fake boyfriend. “He didn’t wanna come with you?” Grandma glanced at her bare ring finger. “I would’ve loved to meet him.” That’s the worst part of having a fake partner. But at least she didn’t have to answer endless questions about being single, or why she’s scared to love again. Plus, it made her life look way more put-together than it actually was, and she’d take any small win she could get. “He’s swamped with work lately, so—” “Nonsense. No one’s too busy for love. You deserve a happy, steady relationship more than anyone I know.” Olive didn’t want romance or love at all. What she craved was stability—something her messy childhood never gave her. So every romantic relationship she entered inevitably repeated the chaotic unpredictability she’d grown up around. A pickup truck rumbled up the shared driveway, stopping at the top of Katie’s side of the property. The man who got out was exactly like Olive remembered: tall, lean and muscular, dark loose curls peeking out from under a baseball cap, mirrored sunglasses masking his eyes. Once, he had a permanent easy smile, but today his jaw was tight. He shrugged his broad shoulders like he was fighting constant pain, then froze the second his gaze landed on the tiny Mini Cooper parked next to Grandma’s house. The same car that almost hit him half an hour earlier. Olive gasped and sank deep into the wooden porch swing. She held her breath as he pushed his sunglasses up to his cap, peered through the car windows, then lifted his head—zeroing in on her position, their eyes locking instantly.
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