At long last, Old Mrs. Ryan had stopped pestering him-now Carla had stepped up to take her place.

It was exhausting.

Farrell wished he could stuff his ears with cotton and block out the noise entirely.

"Farrell, listen to me-Freya is an incredible woman. If you let her slip away, you'll regret it for the rest of your life! She doesn't have a boyfriend yet, and you two still have that childhood promise. You should ask her out before someone else snatches her up!"

In Carla's mind, Farrell had a real advantage over any other man, thanks to that old engagement-even if it was never anything serious. Fate had tied them together, hadn't it?

She almost wished she could switch places with her own son; if she were Farrell, she'd be chasing after Caitlin in a heartbeat.

"Anyone who wants her can go right ahead. I have zero interest," Farrell muttered, snapping his file closed. “Mom, please, I'm begging you-can you stop tormenting me with this? Just let it go."

Carla threw up her hands in defeat. “Son, my dear son, can't you trust me for once?"

Farrell looked her squarely in the eye, his tone suddenly resolute. "Mom, let me make this crystal clear. I'd rather eat dirt than fall for a divorced woman, let alone chase after Freya!"

He sounded dead serious.

Eat dirt?

Carla's eyes widened in alarm. She immediately spat over her shoulder and waved her hands. "Don't say things like that! Knock on wood-knock on wood!"

Farrell couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Mom, really? I'm not a kid anymore. Don't you think those superstitions are a bit much?"

Carla scowled. "Stop laughing and say it with me-knock on wood! If you don't, you'll regret it."

"No need. I won't regret a thing."

After all her efforts, Carla still couldn't change his mind. With a sigh, she headed downstairs.

In the living room, Old Mrs. Ryan was watching a musical on TV, utterly absorbed.

Carla joined her on the couch. "Mom, how can you be in the mood for a musical at a time like this?"

Old Mrs. Ryan looked up, puzzled. "What's happened?"

Carla sighed. "Farrell just doesn't get it. Aren't you worried someone else will

snatch up Freya? She'd make the perfect granddaughter-in-law."

Just thinking of missing out on Caitlin made Carla's heart ache.

Old Mrs. Ryan shrugged. “I'm worried? What's the use? I've come to accept it-children have their own lives to lead if Farrell won't go after Freya, then maybe it just wasn' meant to be."

No point forcing a square peg into a round hole.

She'd given all the advice she could; if Farrell regretted it later, he'd have no one

to blame but himself.

It was Saturday. Caitlin was chatting with Celeste Hayes on WhatsApp, trading photos of their lunches She snapped a quick picture of her own meal and sent it off:

[Lunch time!]

Celeste quickly replied with her own lunch photo, and the two friends continued their casual back-and-forth.

As they chatted, Caitlin decided to post her lunch photo to Twitter. The picture felt a bit plain, though, so she scrolled through her camera roll and added a picture of herself from behind a candid shot she'd saved. from last summer taken by stranger in a photography group. She'd always thought her silhouette looked nice in that one.

Caitlin didn't have many followers; her Twitter was more of a personal journal than

anything else, and her posts rarely got comments.

But today was different.

Moments after posting, she noticed a flurry of replies:

[Excuse me, but that's my Victoria in the second photo. You can use it, but please credit the original source!]

[If you're going to use someone else's photo, at least tag the owner!]

[Please tag Victoria!]

[Using Victoria's gorgeous photo without even asking-what a freeloader!]

[Gross! Freeloaders are the worst!]

Freeloader?

Caitlin frowned and quickly typed a reply: [Hey, you must be confused. I don't know Victoria, and I'm not a freeloader. That's actually a photo of me.]