Good morning, beautiful bride-to-be,” he said, kissing my forehead. He pulled back, his thumb tracing the worry line between my brows. “Let me guess. Victoria?”

I sighed, leading him into the kitchen. “She’s practically printed the invitations for Riverside Manor. She doesn’t want a wedding, Jason; she wants a coronation.”

Jason leaned against the counter, accepting the mug I handed him. “She wants the best for you. In her own, twisted way.” He took a sip, his expression darkening. “But we need to talk about something else. Something real.”

My stomach dropped. “What is it?”

“It’s about Grandma Eleanor. I stopped by Silver Meadows yesterday after my shift.”

The mention of my grandmother made my heart ache. Eleanor Fischer was the compass by which I navigated my life. A former music teacher, she had filled my childhood with Chopin and unconditional love, standing in stark contrast to my mother’s cold perfectionism.