Bliss and the Art of Forever - Alison Kent Page 0,130

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Checking the clock on the dash, he parked the truck, rushed around the hood to Addy’s door and released her seat belt, swinging her and her snowman into his arms. And then he ran. He knew the time of Brooklyn’s flight, knew the airline and gate. His chances of catching her before she made it through security were slim. He’d be too late. She’d be gone.

Bursting through the doors, he moved from one line to the next, searching for black-framed glasses and blond hair and the body he’d learned so well, and the face that gutted him every time she broke into a grin. But she was nowhere. He couldn’t see her, and he swung around again as he dug in his pocket for his phone. If he could reach her while she was still at her gate—

“Daddy, look! It’s Ms. Harvey!”

Callum pressed the hand holding his phone to Addy’s back and spun in the direction she’d pointed. Brooklyn was sitting at a table in one of the terminal’s small shops, her hands wrapped around a paper coffee cup, her gaze focused intently on whatever she wasn’t drinking.

“Ms. Harvey! Ms. Harvey!”

At Addy’s cry, Brooklyn looked up, searching the crowd but quickly narrowing in on the crazy man Callum knew he must look like as he hurried toward her, his biker boots feeling like lead weights on his feet, his daughter swaying in his arms like a flag of surrender.

“What are you doing here?” Brooklyn asked, frowning as she smiled. She got to her feet and took a diving Addy from his arms.

“We came to see you!” the girl said, her arms going so tightly around Brooklyn’s neck, Callum had trouble pulling her away.

“C’mon, pumpkin. Let’s sit down. You’re a little bit heavy for Ms. Harvey to hold.” Once they were seated, Brooklyn in her chair again, and Callum in the one facing her with Addy on his knee, he took a breath, blew it out, and said, “Hi.”

“Hi, to you, too,” she said, reaching a hand across the table to grip his and squeeze. “But now are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”

“Addy’s right,” he said. “We came to see you.”

“Is something wrong? Why didn’t you call?”

“I was going to,” he said, showing her the phone he still held. “But then Addy saw you—” Get to the point, hotshot. The woman’s got a plane to catch. “You don’t have to make this trip, Brooklyn. Not if you don’t want to. Not if you’re not ready. If you’re not sure. You can visit later. Take the Bible to Bianca then. Skype with the students.” He was sounding desperate. “I know you have Artie’s ashes to scatter, and if you’re set on doing that in Italy, I get it. But go and do and come back. Or I’ll go with you.”

“And then what?” she asked after several seconds, her voice breaking as she held his gaze. “We come back . . . I come back . . . I sold my house, Callum. Everything I own is in boxes. I don’t even have a bed anymore.”

“I have a house. I have a brand-new king-sized sleigh bed. I also have a guest room. Or . . .” Think, Callum. Think. Desperate wasn’t getting him anywhere. “I have twenty acres of trees and lawn I’m going to have to buy a tractor to mow. I can build a guest house if you’d feel more comfortable with your own space. I can renew the lease on the loft in the meantime.”

And how much sense was any of this making? She didn’t need him for a place to live, and a guest house would take months, and he was about five seconds from scooping up both her and Addy and taking them home—

“I don’t want to be your guest,” she finally said, tears spilling to roll down her cheeks.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. That’s not what I want you to be either. In fact”—he scooted to the edge of his chair, set Addy on her feet, and dug in his pocket—“this is what I want.”

She looked down to where he held a candy box from Bliss. “You want me to eat chocolate?”

“Just open it,” he said, grinning, and sliding off his chair to kneel on the floor in front of her as she lifted the lid.

“Oh, Callum,” she said, pressing her fingers to her trembling lips. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was my grandmother’s.” He reached into the box and pulled out the ring. It was a