The next morning,Vivien awoke to the smell of baking bread. She lolled and stretched, enjoying the big, rumpled bed, and smiled.
And he bakes, too.
And he loved her. Still.
Here’s tomorebetter times.
That was going to be her mantra now—Cherry would be proud of her; she was always promoting meditation and mantras to help with her anxiety—and with that thought, Vivien swung out of bed and made good use of the steam shower.
When she came out to the kitchen, Jake was sitting at his laptop wearing a pair of dark-framed glasses that immediately made her lady parts sit up and take notice (as if they hadn’t already been working hard for the last two days anyway).
With his glasses on, Jake looked like an Italian Clark Kent—all studious and a little geeky with his hair combed back. He was wearing a button-down shirt…and boxers, she saw when she came around behind him.
She hid a chuckle when she realized he was on a videoconference call and had dressed for the part—at least, the top half of him. He gave her a brief smile then went back to his call. She poured herself a mug of coffee (noting that he didn’t use those environmentally-not-friendly pods; Cherry would be delighted for the second time this morning).
The fresh bread Vivien had smelled was sitting on a rack and made her mouth water, but she didn’t dare cut into it until she knew it was fair game. He might be taking it to Orbra’s.
She went out onto the patio with her coffee and sat down to look out over the lake. If she’d been up earlier, she might have seen the morning fog rolling off its gorgeous blues, but it was after nine, and that had happened more than an hour ago.
After all, she’d had one hell of a weekend, nearly dying and all.
Still, she could see the seagulls darting above and a red hawk diving for a fish in the water. There was a freighter on the horizon—probably heading to Chicago or the Soo Locks at Sault Ste Marie; she’d watch for a minute to see which way it was going.
To her amazement, a bald eagle flew just a few yards in front of her—so close she could see its prey still wriggling, dangling from its talons.
It would be very easy to get used to this.
A gentle hand on her shoulder made her start, and she looked up and behind to see Jake, still in boxers and button-down shirt. And glasses.Yum.
“It makes me very happy to see you sitting here,” he said, and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “There’s fresh bread inside—I made a loaf with cinnamon and raisins this morning—Oof!”
She’d thrown herself into his arms, knocking his glasses askew. “I thought I smelled cinnamon. Oh, man, with butter…hot and fresh from the oven…Jake…I think I’m going to marry you!” she teased, then smacked a kiss on his cheek.
When she would have pulled away, she realized he had her by the arm. “I wish you would,” he said, shocking her to the core.
“Jake, really, I was just kidding,” she said, her stomach dumping to her toes.
“I’m not.” His eyes searched hers. “I told you…I’ve never stopped loving you, Vivien. There’s been no one else—not really, not long enough to matter—for ten years.
“I didn’t realize it until I found you again, but I’ve been waiting for you, waiting for you to come back. I was waiting for you to call me again, to use the number you never deleted from your phone.”
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Jake…”
He pulled her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead, then ducked to whisper in her ear. “I want you forever, Vivien…and I’ll even take Liv too, ghostly presence and all. As long as she doesn’t critique my technique.”
She looked up at him through damp eyes. “That’s a deal,” she managed, smiling through the sudden tears. “But you have to let me flirt with your pop whenever I want, all right?”
“I think I can handle that.”
He cuddled her close, and she closed her eyes, resting her head on his chest.
The song she couldn’t help but hum was “I Can Hear the Bells.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Six Weeks Later
Vivien lookedout from the wings and clasped her hands together, fighting back the rush of happy tears.
