in our future. We’ve teased the subject multiple times, but we’re both in agreement that we’re happy with where we’re at for right now.
I hold out my hand to let him drop whatever it is. He releases his grip and a silver key into my hand. A key I recognize before I’ve even made the entire thing out. I gasp and my head feels light from the shock.
“Now that you have your driver’s license, I figure you’ll need a car. And well—” Desmond looks up at my dad and winks. “Since this one was always supposed to be yours in the first place, I think it’s about time we made that happen.”
The crowd cheers loudly and tears start to blur my vision. I don’t even have words right away. Then Desmond leans down and places his mouth to my ear. “You already have a key to my condo, to my kitchen, and to my heart but this one belongs to you and you alone. It has always belonged to you, Mags.” He presses a kiss to my check and stands up so I can look at him.
What I ever did to deserve such a smart, giving, and talented man, I have no idea, but I’m never letting him go.
“I love you so much. You didn’t have to do this.”
He grins. “I know. But since I did, why don’t you take her out for a spin?”
My dad steps forward and wraps me in a hug. “I’d love to go with you, if that’s alright.”
I swipe away at the tears that are falling and nod before laughing at how emotional I’m getting over such a generous and thoughtful gesture. “Yes, of course.” I look up at Desmond who’s smiling down at me. “Are you coming too?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m going to stay here and mingle.” He leans down and kisses my cheek then points at my father. “You’re in charge old man, bring her back in one piece.”
We all laugh as I search the crowd for my sister. “Where’s Monica?”
Just then, she bursts through a small group of guests and runs toward us. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
My dad and I laugh as she catches up to us. Then he loops his arms around both our shoulders as we walk toward my new car.
I start the engine, and my heart flips in my chest at the beautiful sound. When I finally went out to get my license, it was at Desmond’s prodding. He told me I’d need it eventually because walking everywhere was going to start becoming impossible if the kitchen continued to pick up steam the way it was.
Now, I know why he was so insistent. Something tells me this has been his plan for a very long time. Maybe even from the moment I told him the car was promised to me first. I don’t know. And I stopped caring.
Desmond has done so much for me since I met him, besides giving me a home and a job. He’s given me his heart and his encouragement to explore all the things I’m passionate about, whether it’s been in the kitchen or not. And while I haven’t found one single thing that I am obsessed with like he is, I’ve been happier than ever before taking the reins on the business side of things.
I drive around the park, taking Monica and my dad through the numerous parking lots, never actually leaving the grounds. But when we hit a straight away, and I can pick up the speed slightly, I can’t stop the smile from my face. Monica is hollering in the backseat, and my dad appears to be enjoying the ride as he rests against the door.
“You’re a good driver, Mags.”
My dad’s compliment makes me smile. “Thanks, Dad. Desmond’s been teaching me.”
He blows out a breath and then chuckles. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, but it was probably a better idea than having me train you. I don’t know how well my nerves would have held up.”
I cruise into the next parking lot, relaxing against the wind blowing in my hair and the radio playing softly from the dash. Monica is singing along while my dad flips through Desmond’s cookbook. My heart startles when I glance over and realize he’s reached the dessert section. He’s looking at a playful photo of me in a black bra, a chef’s hat, and my tongue between my teeth as I appear to be preparing to eat a donut.
“Um, Dad,” I start, but he’s snapping the book shut before I can tell him he should probably stop there. There’s nothing crude about the photos, but the dessert section does get a little—um—sexual.
“Well,” he says stretching out and looking out the window. “I think I’ve seen enough of that.”
Monica howls with laughter and my face heats with embarrassment, but the embarrassment is quickly diminished by Monica uttering her favorite curse word.
“Holy, shiitakes.”
“What is it, M?” I glance at her in the rearview mirror and my eyes go wide at where her reaction is directed.
She snaps her head up to meet the reflection of my eyes. “Didn’t you carve this heart into the back seat when we were kids?”
A laugh bubbles up my throat. “I sure did. I’ll never forgot how mad Dad got at me. If it weren’t for that heart then I probably would have never known that this was Dad’s old car. Desmond wasn’t going to tell me.”
I watch as Monica twists her lips with amusement as she connects the dots, then her eyes widen and I forget saying anything at all. “What were you doing in the backseat, Mags?”
“Oh my God.” It’s all I can say. I’m humiliated. Why can’t my sister just shut her mouth for once? I cringe as I sneak a look at my dad, but he looks to be just as embarrassed as me.
“I think it’s time to head back.”
When I park the car, Desmond is waiting for us there with his arms ready. He wraps me in a hug. “Why does Coach look like that lobster you refused to boil?”
I look up with a slight laugh. “Let’s just say the poor guy will probably never eat dessert again.”
Desmond’s eyes go wide, making me laugh harder. “Oh, shit.”
I nod and make a cringe face. “Yeah. Oh, shit is right. Guess you should have thought twice about dating the coach’s daughter.”
He narrows his lids and cups my chin in his hands. “Wouldn’t have changed a damn thing, Maggie Stevens. You’re still the biggest pain in my rear, but you also happen to be the love of my life, so—” he flashes me a grin. “You kind of have to take the bad with the good, if you know what I mean.”
I bite down on my lip and stretch onto my tiptoes so I can reach his lips. “Oh, I know what you mean, Desmond Blake. And I wouldn’t change a thing either.”
Before you, life came in bursts of muted colors.
Everything changed when you somehow slipped under my skin—and then stole my heart.
Layer by layer, you stripped me bare, leaving foreign skin beneath lost feathers. You blinded me with your light. And with streams exposing my every weakness, I became yours.
Your words lit a match against my soul, and the flames licked through me like an inferno. Thick. Heated. Wild. Infuriating.
Still, I was afraid.
I learned at a young age what can be seen through the lens is often a skewed version of reality. A bent perspective. Manufactured, therefore losing all sense of authenticity.
But you showed me there was nothing to fear.
I wasn’t just the woman through the lens, the lie, like I believed myself to be.
I was your muse.
Turns out, you were mine too.