I nearly choke on the rich floral perfume that consumes me as soon as I step into the familiar carriage house. I wave my arms around hoping to push the thick smell away from me as I look around the neat interior and I immediately want to throw one last hissy fit before settling in.

I notice all of Whitney's belongings are already gone and it looks just as I left it a few months ago. Mrs. Hemming furnished the cozy two-story cottage in ruffly floral pattern upholstery and delicate stark white antique furniture. It looks more like a young girl's dollhouse than any real functioning space. Everything is a little too neat and a little too matchy-matchy.

"It reeks of Whitney in here, don't it?" Jackson says as he drops my last steamer trunk in the doorway. I frown as I hear the thud and I want to scold him for being reckless with my antique luggage. He rolls his eyes at me when he catches my grimace and he continues to stride into what's going to be my living room for the next few weeks.

"Now don't get too comfortable darling, I'm sure I'll get to give you the boot here quickly," Jackson jokes and I slug him in the arm.

"Trust me, I am going to flee from here as soon as possible," I mutter. "And anyway, you're welcome for giving you the heads up that the Carmichaels are slimeballs. Letting me hide out here is the least you could do for me."

Jackson gives me cockeyed grin and mouths, "Yeah, yeah." I roll my eyes at him and mutter, "Ass," as I drop my toiletry bag on the bright circular dining room table. The carriage house looks like a fairy tale cottage on the outside, all white wood with planter boxes attached to the windows. Inside, the large rectangular windows pull in the sunshine so it splashes all over the bright interior and the light furniture gives everything a warm glow. Freshly cut sunflowers fill a white ceramic Mackenzie Childs vase on the table and even the flowers and the disappearing sunshine won't pull me from my sour mood.

I let out a long dramatic sigh as Jackson comes and stands next to me.

"Please, don't be so dramatic. You are getting a vacation from your mother. I think I am doing you a huge favor so don't be all, woe is me and all that shit." I look to him and frown when I realize he's right. I am getting quiet time away from all of her judgment and sass so this imprisonment might not be all that bad.

I change the subject so I don't have to give Jackson the satisfaction of being right.

"So where does the help keep the cleaning supplies? I need to find an air freshener to try and tame the harlot's stench in here." Jackson points to a small cupboard that sits discreetly under the staircase and I pluck an aerosol can from the cleaning supply bin. I start spraying a fresh linen smell all around the downstairs of the cottage and Jackson waves his arms around trying to not get drenched in air freshener.

"Alright Sawyer, I think you've cleansed the space. Unless I need to go get you sage to burn too." I look to him and he sees me ponder the idea, "Sawyer, I was joking."

"It's not a bad idea though. Thoroughly cleansing the space. Who knows what voodoo Whitney was concocting in here?" I say as my eyes scan the room and Jackson bitterly answers, "The only thing Whitney was doing in here was scanning over the documents that were going to entitle her to half of everything I own."

I catch his eye, "Well the half that wasn't in the prenup. Where is Whitney now?" Jackson drops onto the velvet antique couch that sits under the wide window in the living room and replies, "Hopefully halfway to Louisiana by now. I don't want to see her in Hollis ever again."

I shake my head, "Okay, but what about your unborn child? You're just never going to see your baby either?"

Jackson shrugs nonchalantly, "We'll figure out an arrangement after a paternity test is done. It's already bad enough that the Hemming heir could be an illegitimate child but it will be worse if the mother is a criminal." I let out a bold laugh and my jaw drops a little as I look to Jackson and his bright blue eyes.

"Hemming heir? Jackson this is Hollis, Mississippi. Not the monarchy of France. If the baby is in fact yours, it will be a Hemming regardless of how you feel about their mother. Maybe next time you should consider the consequences before sticking your willy in places it probably don't belong." I add on a dramatic southern drawl and Jackson jokingly flips me off, "Now Sir Hemming, that's hardly appropriate behavior for the King of Hollis. Don't you know how to respect a lady?" I frown and quickly reply, "Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to, of course you don't know how to respect a lady." Jackson pops up from the couch and annoyingly mimics me as he glides over to the front door, "Well Sawyer, I'd say don't let the bed bugs bite but..." I roll my eyes at him and with his right hand, he gives me a short-wave goodnight. I hear the door slam shut behind him and I watch his dark hair disappear into the garden. I turn back into the living room and the quiet emptiness of the house finally hits me. I decide to grab my trunk off the floor and I catch the small needlework that's framed above the door. "Home Sweet Home," is sewn in a bright dandelion yellow thread and I roll my eyes at the irony.

"Hardly." I mutter as I drag myself over to my luggage and I realize I should have had Jackson's useless ass carry these up to my new room for me.

Using both hands on the small leather handle I haul my trunk up the wooden stairs and drag it into the small loft bedroom that sits at the top of the banister. My heart is like a fist in my chest when I see the familiar queen-sized brass bed sitting in the center of the room. How am I supposed to sleep in the same exact bed as I did when I was blissfully ignorant and engaged to Jackson? I think of him and Whitney together beneath these sheets and suddenly the entire room is unappealing.

I flip the locks up on my trunk and quickly pull out my cozy sweatpants and a red V-neck t-shirt I stole from Ryan. My eyes dart to the two small windows that sit on either side of the bed and I immediately twist the wooden blinds shut. Through the slates in the panels, I watch the main house disappear and I shake my head at the insanity of the situation. Never in a million years did I think I'd be getting ready for bed in the Hemming's carriage house again.