“I do love it here, but do you know what I love more?” I ask, trailing my lips down her neck.
“What?” I can hear her smile as she snuggles in against me.
“You. And Nox. And our life on Skye.” I punctuate each of these things with a kiss to her bare shoulder where her sweater has slipped down.
She turns in my arms, looping her own around my neck, and pins me with her brown eyes—full and bright but soft with the love we have for each other. Just as she presses her lips to mine, we’re interrupted by a melodic voice with an Australian accent.
“So it’s not just my parents who are all over each other all the time.”
We pull apart to see Willow, Breck’s daughter, standing beside Nox in the kitchen and staring with looks of disgust on their faces. It only makes me want to kiss Avi more.
“Yeah, they’re insufferable,” Nox scoffs.
I snort a laugh. “Big word there, bud,” I say. “We’re not that bad… Or we usually aren’t, but now? Now I think I’ll be truly insufferable about my affection for your mum.”
And with that I tighten my grip around Avi’s waist, slide a hand into her hair, and dip her low to kiss her senseless. I let it go on just long enough to draw out low groans from both kids before I stand Avi back up.
Nox’s displeased “Ugh, gross, Dad” is the first thing I hear when we separate.
Dad.
It still brings me a rush of pure joy every time I hear the word. The first time he used it with me was the day Avi and I got married. I don’t know if it was a conscious choice or just his way of protecting himself, waiting until he knew I wasn’t going anywhere, to let me all the way in. I didn’t want to pressure him, had told myself I’dbe okay if he called me Jamie forever, but deep down I wanted that acknowledgment of who we are to each other more than anything.
Even now, as he chastises me, it makes me feel more than a single word should.
I turn and ruffle his hair. “Sorry, Nox, I just can’t stop myself.”
This earns me another eyeroll from him and a giggle from Willow.
“Stop yourself from what?” Breck asks, joining us in the open kitchen and dining space with Rory in tow.
“This,” I say, and kiss Avi heartily again to a cacophony of renewed groans from the kids and laughs from the adults.
“Oy, yeah,” Breck says with mirth. “I can’t stop myself either.”
And with that, he’s pulling Rory into his arms for an equally passionate—if theatrical—kiss. The kids fall to the floor in exasperation, though I’m pretty sure they’re laughing as well.
“Hey now, it looks like we’re missing all the fun,” Rory’s brother Wes says, pulling his wife Joss into the fray from where they’ve just walked in the front door.
Willow shoots up from the floor, screams, “Uncle Wes!” and runs full tilt, slamming into him and knocking him backward.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says, picking her up and running a hand down her curtain of dark hair. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s been ages!” Willow says, eliciting chuckles from the adults in the room. It’s been less than six months since she and Breck moved to the States from Australia to be with Rory, but an eight-year-old’s perspective on time is a bit different than ours.
When Wes releases her, it becomes a flurry of movement as hugs and hellos are exchanged, with Breck and Rory taking their turns to welcome the newcomers.
“Big day coming up. You feeling good?” Wes asks Rory, and then lowers his voice to a whisper we can all still hear. “You know if you want to back out, I’ll drive the getaway car.” He shoots a furtive glance at his best friend and nudges his sister playfully.
This leads to Breck tackling him to the carpet in the living room as raucous laughter ensues from all of us watching.
I think for the millionth time that it’s a beautiful thing the way all this worked out. That Wes went to his best friend in Sydney for solace in a time when he needed escape and found the love of his life in the process. Then, in turn, Wes put Breck on a plane with Willow to escape to Tahoe in order to heal from his own heartbreak, only for him to fall in love with Wes’s sister.
Turning away from the wrestling match, Joss faces me with a soft smile. “So glad you could make it home for the wedding, Jamie.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it. Who else is supposed to officiate seeing as Breck is the groom?” I say with a glance at Rory, who’s watching her brother and her fiancé tumble around the floor with a wistful, and vexed, smile on her lips. Bringing my attention back, I pull Avi into my side. “Joss, this is Avonlea, my bride.”
I plant a kiss to the top of her head, and that closeness helps relieve the pang in my chest as I say the words. Words I love to utter as often as I can, but they’re words I learned from a man who’s no longer here to say them to his own bride, and that hurts.
