Page 110 of Wicked & Wildflower

“And for Lou.”

“But this is your home, Everett.”

Brown eyes burn straight through me as he shakes his head. “No, this is where I live. Where I grew up. Where my family is. That’s all true.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “But you and your daughter are my home.” Dragging his hand down my neck, he grasps the necklace at the center of my throat. “You’re my compass, Wildflower. I’ll follow you forever, because that’s where I find home.”

“Everett,” I whisper, sitting up and tossing my leg over his waist so I’m straddling him. His hands find my hips, holding me in place while I grasp his face. Despite knowing I’ll butcher the words I say next, I find the courage, because I don’t think anything else will suffice. “T–Ti ho…a–aspettato per tutta…mia vita.”

He cocks his head at me, a bright smile stretching across his cheeks. “Is that Italian?”

“Your mom has been teaching me.” I glance down, feeling embarrassed. “I think it’s cool you guys can speak so many different languages. I…I thought maybe I could learn too.” Slowly dragging my eyes up to meet his, I add, “For you.”

Everett lets out a soft laugh, biting his lip as he shakes his head. “You are—”

“And I know that Spanish probably would’ve been the more practical option, considering our proximity to Latin America and all but… Well, your Mom seemed really excited to have someone to teach Italian. Plus, Italy is at the top of my bucket list, so maybe if I ever get to go someday, I can order my own pasta or something…” I trail off, realizing I’m nervous-rambling again.

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for you,” Everett rasps. “That’s what you said.”

“I’ve been waiting for you all my life.” I nod. “Or…I think.”

He begins laughing, locking his arms behind my back and pulling me flush against him. Ravishing me with teeth and lipsand tongue, Everett kisses me until we’re both breathless. “This is real,” he whispers into my mouth.

I swallow the words on a moan. “Real. We’re real.”

He groans, pulling away, “I’ve got more birthday surprises for you, and I don’t want to get carried away right now.” He slowly lifts me off him, gathering our leftover strawberries and throwing them back in the bag as we both stand and fold up the blanket.

Taking my hand, he leads me out of the endless field of orange wildflowers and back to the peak of the cliffside. I’m stopped dead when we reach the top, transfixed on the exploding sky. The sun sinks beyond the horizon line, a collage of cotton candy-colored clouds reflected on the ocean below it.

“That’s so beautiful,” I say.

“Yes, you are.” I turn to look at Everett, unable to stop my smile as I find him staring back at me, unaffected by the world around us. “C’mere,” he says, ushering me over to the back of his motorcycle.

He grasps my hips, lifting me so I’m sitting on the end with my legs dangling off the edge. He steps between them, reaching down into one of the cases next to me and pulling out a small box.

“I wanted to give this to you privately, because there is a chance you may not accept it, and I want you to know if that’s the case, we’ll understand. I wanted to make sure you feel comfortable.”

“We?” I ask, flicking my brow.

He smiles, the setting sun reflecting on his face with a golden hue. “It’s from Leo and me. Well, and Darby too, technically.”

Confused, I look down at the box as he sets it in my hand. Popping off the lid, I find a key chain, with one singular key on it, nestled in the center. Raising my eyes back to him, I only tilt my head.

“It’s the key to the boardwalk suite next to Honeysuckle.”

“Why?” I ask, having no idea where he’s going with this. How this is supposed to be a gift to me?

“Do you remember at Thanksgiving when August suggested a cafe on the Boardwalk?”

I nod.

“Well, we had those meetings you suggested… We just didn’t include you in them.”

I frown. “Who’swe?”

“Leo, Scarlet, Darby, and me. August came to the first couple as well.” He grips my hips a little tighter. “We agreed that the best option for the boardwalk would be a coffee shop, and that led to talks of a bakery, and well…” He smiles. “You’re the best baker we know.”

“But I’m not a baker.” I shake my head, at a loss for words. “And I don’t know a damn thing about small businesses.”

“Baby,” Everett laughs, “you’re the marketing director of a small business initiative, and I’m your boss. Don’t say that to me.”

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