The Billionaire's Rebound Wife

"So, when's the wedding?"

Dylan stopped laughing the moment his mother's question sank in. He lifted his gaze and caught her watching him closely, as if waiting for his answer. A small smile slowly curved on his lips as he slipped an arm around his girlfriend's waist.

"We're just waiting for the right time, Ma," he said softly.

His mother's brows immediately drew together. "You and Brielle aren't getting any younger, son. What exactly are you still waiting for-"

"Don't force our son, Layla."

His father's voice cut his mother off, making it hard for Dylan not to smile.

"Dylan can decide for himself. He's old enough. And besides, Brielle isn't in a rush anyway. Right, Brielle?"

At his father's question, Dylan turned his attention to his girlfriend. He looked at her, quietly waiting for her response. Brielle Clarkson met his gaze. He didn't miss the subtle pout on her lips before she turned to his parents and flashed them a sweet smile.

"Of course, Tito. I can wait for Dylan. I understand that he's busy with work. I'll wait until he's ready," she answered gently.

Dylan pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. He could hear the frustration hidden beneath her words. He knew she wasn't telling the truth.

"Right. I heard you're working on something new, Dylan," his mother said, quickly changing the topic. "Whose case is it again?"

Dylan couldn't help but feel relieved.

Talking about marriage made him feel suffocated. He didn't think he was ready for that conversation-not yet.

He nodded slowly and smiled at his mother.

"It's the senator's case, Ma. I'll probably be busy for the next few months since he refuses to admit anything."

"Senator Clemente?" his father asked. "I saw him on the news the other day."

Dylan nodded.

"Is your Uncle Damon the prosecutor?"

"Yes," Dylan replied with another nod. "I might stay at Uncle Damon's place for a few days, Pa. It'll be easier to talk there without interruptions. I already informed Tita Ivy."

Declan Fontanilla let out a soft chuckle.

"Son, you're old enough. You don't have to ask for permission from your mother and me about that anymore," he said jokingly.

Dylan shook his head.

"I'm just giving you a heads-up. I don't want you thinking I got murdered somewhere just because I didn't visit and you couldn't find me at my place," he joked.

Instead of laughing, both his parents suddenly turned serious.

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head.

"M-Ma! You said Lance made donuts. Where are they?" he blurted out, trying to change the subject.

His parents shook their heads in unison, making Dylan rub the back of his neck again. He momentarily forgot that he couldn't joke like that around them. Convincing them to let him become a police officer hadn't been easy-his mother had been terrified that he'd get hurt or killed on duty. When they finally agreed, he promised them he would never let that