turned his palm up. Then she placed her house key in his hand.
“I love you,” she said. “More than I know how to say. You have given me so much. Been so patient and loving and generous. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, and I know I don’t need to be afraid of you. I trust you, Flynn. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get that, to understand, but I’m here now. I’m ready. I want to do this.”
For a moment he was very, very still. Then he reached out and used his fingertips to wipe away her tears, his gaze warm and tender and full of understanding.
“Good.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his arms a bruising band across her shoulders. She didn’t mind, she couldn’t get close enough to him, either. She clenched her hands into his clothes and pressed her body against his and kissed him with everything she had in her, trying to convey to him the depth of her feelings.
She loved him. God, she loved him.
After long minutes they came up for air and realized they had a small audience—the woman with the stroller, an old lady, a couple of staff members. Mel felt her face heat as Flynn flashed their audience his most charming smile.
“Our apologies. We’ll get out of your way.” He led Mel outside, where they both stopped and simply stared at each other, eyes searching one another’s faces. She reached out to touch his jaw, her thumb scraping over his whiskers, unable to keep her hands to herself now that she’d at last acknowledged her own heart.
“Thank you for waiting for me,” she said softly. “Thank you for loving me. Thank you for hanging in there even when I pushed you away. Most of all, thank you for trusting that I’d find my own way.”
He caught her hand and turned his head to press a kiss into her palm. “Thank you for being so brave, and for trusting me. I know what that means for you, Mel, and I will never use that trust against you. Ever.” His eyes were solemn, and he spoke the words like a vow.
“I know,” she said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. A lifetime’s worth. Maybe two. Which may become a little wearing for you at times, but I figure you will probably learn to live with it.”
Somehow she was in his arms again. It felt absolutely right, their tall bodies a perfect match, their hearts—finally—in accord.
“I can handle it,” she said confidently.
She knew she could, too. Because once upon a time she’d been brave and bold, but now she was also wise. She understood that the man in her arms was a remarkable, astounding treasure. A big-hearted, loving, lovely man.
And she was never letting him go.
EPILOGUE
One year later
MEL SHUT THE DOOR on the noise the workmen were making and walked to the front door. Thankfully, this was the last week they would have tradespeople in the house. It had been a long, drawn-out, expensive haul, but, apart from a few minor tweaks, Summerlea had finally been restored to her former glory.
The floors had been repolished, the panelling renewed. New carpets had been laid, the wiring overhauled. No room had gone untouched, but Summerlea was now weather-tight, warm, welcoming and gracious—the last more a testament to Flynn’s mother’s good taste and perseverance than to Mel’s or Flynn’s. As Pat had so astutely observed early in the renovation, their hearts were outside in the garden, not in the house. With Mel and Flynn’s blessing, Pat had taken over a lot of the decorating choices, offering selections to Mel and Flynn so they could make the final decisions.
It had been the perfect distraction from Adam’s health, and Mel knew the older woman had enjoyed it immensely. Mel’s only regret was that she and Flynn had not been able to convince Adam and Patricia to consider making their home at Summerlea, too. They’d had the discussion a number of times but Flynn’s parents were adamant about not being a burden or cramping her and Flynn’s style.
As far as Mel was concerned, the discussion was far from over. When things got more intense with Adam, she wanted Pat to be supported, and she wanted to do her bit, too. She’d grown to admire and love Flynn’s parents enormously in the past twelve months, and she was not prepared to give up this battle. Not yet, anyway. There was plenty of room at Summerlea