“Why did I even put mascara on this morning?” I ask, dabbing at my eyes.
It all makes sense now. How this man could be so patient and caring, such a support in helping Gran.
Tears roll down Gran’s cheeks. Letting go of Ambrose, she settles her hand over her heart, adding, “Yes, and this is where I feel Ferdinand, too. He’s still watching over us, Cat. Loving and caring for us from a distance, where he can never, ever be taken from us.”
I bite my bottom lip, leaning forward to half-hug her. “That’s right, Gran. The people we love most, we’ll never lose. Because we’re family …always.”
“Sounds like whatever kind of date you two went on last night was quite remarkable,” Gran says with a soft grin.
“The best night of my life,” I confess, eyeing Ambrose.
Clearing his throat, the big firefighter says, “Get ready for plenty more of those, Sparky.”
“Sparky?” Gran scrunches her nose.
“That’s my new nickname,” I giggle.
“Suits you perfectly,” she says with a nod of approval. “All fire and sass. Though I’ll let my future son-in-law keep that one all to himself.”
Gran’s eyes droop the longer we talk, and the pauses between her answers grow as her head dips a couple of times.
“Let’s let her sleep for now. She could use the rest,” Ambrose urges gently.
I follow him out into the bright, white hallway, watching him close her door gently. He turns, pulling me into his arms as one of Gran’s nurses passes, jealousy and disappointment clearly etched in her face. But the big man never notices.
Instead, his eyes focus intensely on me as he asks, “How are you holding up?”
“Alright. It’s tough seeing Gran in the hospital. But we’ve got a plan for her recovery, and she looks good. Very, very happy about us.”
He nods, eyes fixed on me beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat brim. Bringing his hand up, he traces my jawline slowly. “I want you to remember something. I’ll always be here for you two, and I’ll always carry you both.”
The vow lands heavier than any bouquet or tender kiss. It feels like a cornerstone. Something we can build a life on.
Epilogue
CATALINA
Afire roars in the reading room hearth as Ambrose and I snuggle on the loveseat, Dumpling sandwiched between us and purring.
Ambrose wears square-framed black reading glasses, and I steal glances at him, stunned by how adorable the geeky shades make him. His big hand rests on Dumpling, scratching behind her ears when she stirs or meows.
It’s scandalous how much she has him wrapped around her finger. And yes, I’m still jealous.
He’s halfway through an obscenely large space opera, and I’m nearly to the end ofWinning the Small-Town Firefighter.I have to admit it’s been a slower read than usual, incapable of competing with my very new and very scintillating love life with Ambrose.
My mind wanders back to the shower this morning. The slick slide of his body against mine. His mouth teasing my breasts, his fingers undoing me, and finally his cock filling me until I shattered.
“You winning me again?” he teases, eyeing the book in my hand over the rim of his glasses.
“Again? You forget, Sexy. I didn’t win you the first time. Gran did.”
His eyes narrow, voice raw as he asks, “Would you this time?”
He already knows the answer. It hums through my chest, yet I evade, “And where would I get ten thousand dollars? That’s a pretty penny for one diner date?—”
“With countless interruptions and a broken-down ride at the end.”
“None of that was your fault,” I remind.
