“Oh, sweetheart, he’s such a catch,” my mom whispered in my ear as she gushed over my ring.

“I like him a lot,” my dad added.

I hugged them both, so thankful that they were there for this moment.

“I really can leave now,” his mom said, her own tears spilling down her cheeks. “But don’t you dare get married until I get back!”

“But you won’t be back for a year,” Joseph complained, but I rested a hand on his shoulder, instantly calming him.

“We can wait,” I said, reassuring him that there was no rush. “We need at least a year to plan it anyway,” I added, and he didn’t seem to understand why.

“All the good venues are booked a year out,” Kayla added, and Joseph looked perplexed.

I didn’t want to think about any of that stuff right now. I wanted to enjoy being engaged to the man of my dreams, who had tried to burn his dick off the night we first met.

“I can’t believe you’re going to marry my boss,” Kayla whispered as she wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a tight squeeze. “Does that make you my boss-in-law?”

A loud laugh escaped me. “It’s all your fault. You’re the one who set us up.”

“I know. I deserve a raise.”

“He just gave you a raise.”

“I want another one. You’re moving out soon,” she whined, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

I’d already started packing my stuff, slowly bringing boxes over to Joseph’s place so that it happened gradually instead of overnight.

“Future wife,” Joseph said as he kissed my lips.

“Future husband,” I responded, the words making chills race down my spine.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife. Let’s go get married right now,” he suggested, and I laughed again.

“No,” I argued, but I wasn’t sure why.

“Whatever. Your parents love me, by the way,” he said, giving a nod toward where my parents stood, talking his mom’s ear off.

“It’s only fair since your mom loves me.”

And she did. I had been worried at first that she wouldn’t approve, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. We got along better than I ever could have anticipated. She had only been so harsh that night in her penthouse because she had anticipated that I’d be overwhelmed and upset by bad press—like what had happened with the Post article—and she was genuinely worried She didn’t think I could handle the pressure and stress that went along with dating someone in the public eye.

She’d told me one day that she had never been more grateful to be wrong. “You’re the perfect person for my son.”

I’d cried again.

I was always freaking crying, it seemed.

My parents went back to Boston, and Joseph’s mom got ready to leave for her trip, signing paperwork and notarizing things to make Joseph’s role in the company official.

And when we dropped her off at the airport, where she boarded a private jet, I asked out loud, “How do you pack for something like that?”