Always (Spiral of Bliss #5) - Nina Lane Page 0,130

make things right for his family. I see the scholar who is fascinated by the esoteric details of the past. I see the father who plays baseball with his son and has stuffed animal parties with his daughter.

I see the man who has stood beside me in both the dark and the shining light. I see the husband who can withstand anything except the thought of losing me.

I see my Dean, who believes to the heart of his unwavering soul in our intense, imperfect love.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says.

“Okay.”

And the world falls together the instant our lips touch.

Epilogue

Dean

Ten years later

The San Jose airport is crowded with summer travelers going to and from California. People rush between gates, dragging suitcases and pausing to check the departures board. I pay for a few items at a coffee-stand before heading to the gate where my family is waiting for news of our delayed flight back to Mirror Lake.

Seventeen-year-old Nicholas is busy with his phone, earbud wires trailing from his ears, his long, lanky body slouched in the chair. I toss him a granola bar, which he catches with one hand without looking up. Beside him, Bella idly sketches in her notebook and twists a strand of straight, dark hair around her finger.

Liv is bending over to adjust something in her travel bag, her skirt stretched across her hips and rear. It’s such a tempting display that I can’t help patting her round, perfect ass.

“Dad,” Bella groans, rolling her eyes in embarrassment.

I shrug unapologetically and sit across from our daughter.

“That was nothing,” I tell her. “Your mom is so hot I’m tempted to give her a long, deep kiss right this second.”

“Dad.”

“Dean.” Liv’s voice is mildly disapproving, then she winks at me and mouths the word, “Later.”

Damn right later.

I hand Bella a blueberry muffin and reach into the coffee tray for Liv’s latte. She takes the cup and sits beside Bella, murmuring a comment about the drawing.

“North said the next time we visit, he’ll show me how to carve scenes into white pine,” Bella says, holding the paper a distance away to study it. “Can we come back to Twelve Oaks later this summer?”

“Possibly,” Liv says. “Or maybe you can come for a few days on your own.”

“Really?”

“Fourteen is old enough to travel alone,” Liv says, glancing at me for agreement. “And North would meet you at the airport, so we can probably figure something out.”

“Wow, that would be so cool, Mom. Thanks.” With a smile, Bella returns to her drawing.

Our daughter, as I had always known she would be, is a beauty like her mother—long dark hair, thick-lashed eyes, and fine, lovely features. Though at fourteen, Bella draws male attention in a way that makes my blood boil and my fists clench, she is also a straight-A student, a talented artist, a karate black belt, a Girl Scout, an advocate for marine conservation, and a sometimes sulky teenager who likes to experiment with dying her hair any number of colors.

“I’m going to see if there’s any news about the flight,” Liv says, putting her cup on the floor beside her travel bag.

She gets up and walks over to the gate agent’s desk. I watch her go, admiring the curve of her breasts under her shirt, the length of her pretty legs, the way her shiny hair falls in a curtain to her shoulders.

Later, I remind myself, turning my attention to the coffee before my thoughts start getting away from me.

Bella shifts, taking her phone out of the pocket of her King’s University sweatshirt. She looks at the screen and heaves a sigh before swiping and tapping with irritated movements.

Then she shoves the phone back into her pocket and slumps in her chair, her beautiful face creasing with a frown.

“You okay?” I ask.

She shrugs and doesn’t respond. She scrubs at her drawing pad with her eraser, her frown deepening. I search in Liv’s bag for a pencil and paper and make a quick sketch:

I tear the page from the notepad and reach over to drop it into Bella’s lap. She gives me a narrow look before picking up the paper and reading it.

She rolls her eyes, but a reluctant smile tugs at her mouth.

“It’s nacho problem, Dad,” she mutters.

“Yeah, but sometimes I like to get jalapeño business.”

Bella laughs, which makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery.

“Okay, stop,” she says. “God, you are such a dork.”

She tucks the taco note into her pocket and puts her pencil down, her mood sobering