Leo pulled his car up the little gravel driveway, got out, and walked over to the side door, sifting through several keys on an old ring.

Tessa came up behind him. “Wait,” she said.

He turned to look at her. He had circles under his eyes. His thick, wavy hair was boyishly tousled after the long day, making him look very approachable and a little vulnerable.

You’d better be careful, Tessa cautioned herself. This day had held a roller coaster of emotions. It would be a shame to think that Leo was someone else just because he’d talked her out of the bathroom.

He straightened out, the keys clinking. “What is it?” he asked, not unkindly.

She hesitated. But she decided she was going to speak her truth. And maybe she’d been hanging around Lilac too much, but this particular truth was important to her, if somewhat out there. New life, new truth was her new motto. “It’s tradition to enter through the front door.”

To Leo’s credit, he didn’t heave a disgusted sigh. Just lifted a brow in question. “Tessa, have we done anything the traditional way?”

Thank goodness it was almost dark, because she felt her cheeks heat. “Well, this may be a sham marriage, but I don’t want bad luck. We’re starting something here, and I think we should do it right.”

He leaned his long frame against the doorjamb. “I believe a person makes their own luck.”

“I believe that, too,” she said as he turned back to the lock. She added in a quiet voice, “But I also believe in tradition.”

“Fine,” he said, pulling the key out of the lock, this time with a very heavy sigh.

They congregated a minute later at the teal front door, a lovely color, but needing a good coat of paint. Leo turned the key, but before he could open the door, she tapped him on the shoulder.

“What is it now?” He was past trying to disguise his irritation.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. She wasn’t going to hold back on who she was. “It’s bad luck unless you carry me in. It’s ancient tradition,” she said. “Carrying the bride over the threshold keeps her away from the evil spirits on the floor.”

“And so the groom has to walk through them? Nice. And what if I trip and fall? That’s definitely bad luck.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t make the rules.”

Something glinted in his eyes. “I thought that custom began because most people back then married by capture, so the bride was dragged or carried in.”

“That’s really disturbing,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not sure what ‘marry by capture’ is, but maybe I’ll just walk in after all.”

“I wouldn’t want any bad luck to infect our business ventures.” He bent to scoop her up but hesitated at the last second.