Irresistible (Cloverleigh Farms #1)(80)

I nearly choked, and Mack turned a shade of red I’d never seen before, but later we discussed it and realized they were right. We wanted to be together all the time, and it would make life easier if I lived at the house. I made sure that Mack talked it over with the girls when I wasn’t around, and he assured me that they were completely enthusiastic about the idea. “Not only are you a much better cook than me, but you know how to do all kinds of braids, you smell better, and you’re much more patient.”

“And you’re sure it’s what you want?” I asked, standing beside him as we loaded the dishwasher after dinner one Friday night. In the living room, we could hear the kids arguing about whose turn it was to choose the movie. It was our typical weekend evening, and maybe some girls my age would have found it boring, but I’d never been happier. Our relationship wasn’t perfect—we had misunderstandings like any other couple, times where we took one another for granted, times when dealing with his ex or our work schedules or bickering kids made us short with one another—but we were always quick to apologize, and every time we kissed and made up, we felt closer than before. Life wasn’t easy, but it was beautiful.

“Are you kidding?” Wiping his wet hands on a towel, he turned to me and took me in his arms. “Of course it’s what I want. This house wouldn’t even feel like home without you anymore. You belong here.”

I smiled up at him. “I used to dream of hearing you say that to me.”

“Then tell me you’ll stay.”

Twining my arms around his waist, I pressed my cheek to his chest, feeling like his embrace was the only home I’d ever need. “I’ll stay.”





Epilogue





For my birthday that summer, he took me to Paris.

He arranged everything—brought his parents in to stay with the kids for a week, talked to April and Natalie to make sure I could get the time off, told me to pack my bags for a week away—and promised to tell me where we were going when we got to the airport.

“What? How am I supposed to pack?” I shrieked.

He had no sympathy. “Pack for an elegant destination. Not the beach. Not the mountains. Not the desert. That’s all I’m saying.”

The girls, who knew where we were going but were sworn to secrecy, came into the bedroom to watch me pack, giggling and shushing each other.

My only clue came when we hugged and kissed them goodbye, and Felicity shouted, “Bon voyage!” and Millie elbowed her.

“Don’t ruin it!”

“I didn’t! That’s what you say when someone goes on a trip, even if they’re not going to France!”

On the way to the airport, he finally told me we were flying to Paris, and I flipped out. “Oh my God! Do you have my passport?”

“Of course I do.”

I touched the corners of my eyes and fanned my face. “This is too much. It’s just a birthday.”

“It’s not. It’s a chance for me to do something for you and show you how much I appreciate all you do for me. And it was time for you to get a stamp in that passport already.”

I laughed. “I can’t believe this. Pinch me!”

“I’d be happy to, but you’re not going to wake up.” He took my hand and kissed the back of it. “This is real life.”

It might have been, but not a moment passed that it didn’t seem like a dream. We stayed at a cozy little place on the Left Bank, wandered cobblestone streets hand in hand, drank coffee and ate pastries every morning in a different café, hit all the touristy spots and took a million pictures to send to the kids. We lingered over bottles of wine at dinner every evening, and spent all night long in each other’s arms without worrying about how loud we were, how naked we were, or how many people were sleeping above us. It was heaven.

Then one morning, Mack told me to pack my bags because the last couple nights of the trip would be spent somewhere else. Excited and intrigued, I did what he said. A few hours later, we emerged from a train in Tours and rented a car. As soon as I saw the signs for the Loire, I knew where we were heading.

“Mack.” I grabbed his arm. “No way. You didn’t.”

He just laughed and kept driving, and in less than an hour, I saw it come into view—Le Chateau d’Ussé, looking every bit as magical as the fairy tale castle I’d imagined as a girl.

I felt like I was walking on a cloud all day long.

We toured the castle and grounds from one end to the other—the dungeons, the salons, the grand halls, the spiral staircases, the stables, the chapel. We learned about the medieval kings and queens who’d walked the stone floors, the Renaissance works of art on the walls, and of course, the inspiration of Perrault’s Sleeping Beauty. We walked to a nearby café for lunch and returned to the chateau to stroll along gravel paths in the gardens and kiss beneath the shade of cedar trees.

It was while we were in the gardens that Mack turned to me and took my hands. “So? Is it everything you expected?”

I nodded happily. “More. I’m only sorry the kids aren’t here. They’d love this!”

“We’ll bring them back someday. How about that?”

“Do you think we’ll come back?” I asked wistfully, glancing at the chateau behind us, looking even more beautiful and enchanting in the fading sunlight.