The End
EPILOGUE
IRELAND
My alarm buzzed again on the bedside table, and I snuggled closer to Adair. “Why?” I moaned.
Solid weight rolled on top of me, and I automatically wound my arms around him, sighing as he became the perfect blanket.
“Show me those eyes, Indigo Girl,” Adair rasped, his voice deep with sleep. His big, warm palms pushed my hair off my face before cradling my cheeks.
“Forecast?” I mumbled, nuzzling into his hands and ignoring his request.
He hummed, his chest vibrating against me before he slid up my body deliciously, reaching for his phone.
My feet flexed and then pointed as I reveled in everywhere we touched.
“Still just a tropical storm,” he murmured. “Looks like it might actually happen today.”
Today would mark our third—and final—attempt to do the ribbon cutting to open the greenhouse.
The first two times, we hadn’t even gotten the banner Liem designed put up or the red ribbon stretched acrossthe entrance before a hurricane blew in from the Gulf and delayed it.
But today…
Today was the last chance that everyone could be here for it.
Adair seemed to follow the same train of thought, because he let out a deep sigh and kissed my cheek, my temple, and forehead before doing the same in reverse down the other side of my face.
I rubbed a soothing hand down his strong back and raked my left hand into his dark-brown waves, smiling at the weight of my ring. “She’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “And if not—” I cracked open an eye and smiled wryly at him. “—I’m sure you’ll find a book to help you guys through it.”
His eyes darkened as he smoothed his hand down my side, then my outer thigh, then gripped the back of my knee and hitched my leg around his waist.
“Think I can find one about what to do with a fiancée who teases me like that before the sun has even risen?” he asked, voice low, as he pressed his hardness against me.
“I have a few ideas, and I think—” He pushed against me again, momentarily stealing my words. “—you do too.” Throwing my head back, I slid my hands to his ass and urged him on.
One of our new nightly rituals, besides taking advantage of the oversized shower, was exchanging devices—my phone for Adair’s e-reader. He’d ask me questions about photos I’d taken that day, or sometimes he’d look over old ones, while I looked at his reading history and did the same.
Like his Jeep, his e-reader was old, but well cared for. I’d never forget the day I found all the parenting books he’d downloaded more than a decade ago, ranging fromhow to best deal with preteen mood swings to how to raise an independent but communicative teenaged girl.
It was as sweet as it was devastating.
The sound of a door slamming had us both freezing, straining our ears toward the rest of the house.
Delly wasn’t one to slam doors.
Probably thanks to Adair’s parenting books.
A few seconds later, a door slammed again from somewhere else in the house, followed by arguing voices.
Adair dropped his forehead to mine and let out a pathetic whimper. “Cole.”
My hands tightened on his firm ass, but it was more of a bitter goodbye than an urge to continue.
The way he pressed firmly into me one last time and then kissed me sweetly said the same.
A loud gasp sounded from the living room, followed by, “It’s my birthday week, Apple Jack!”
