Chapter Forty-four
Abigail-Ann
“Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.”
~ Peter Ustinov
“Y ou okay, Red?” Mikkel asked, his voice soft as it cut through the hum of the jet engines. His dark eyes searched mine, flickering with concern.
I nodded, though the tightness in my chest begged me to do otherwise.
But I wasn’t. Not really.
I turned to the window, toying with my larimar necklace as I watched the endless sea of clouds below, with San Francisco waiting just beyond. I loved it there: the fog rolling over the Golden Gate, the hills alive with the rattle of cable cars, and my family. But love wasn’t the issue. My past was. It lingered, tangled in every street, every corner, every faded memory that refused to stay buried.
“I’m fine. Just thinking,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though I wasn’t sure I succeeded.
“Okay,” he murmured, leaning in to place a tender kiss on my forehead before returning to his crossword puzzle.
The flight attendant’s voice crackled over the speakers, announcing that we’d be landing in ten minutes. The flight had felt much quicker than usual, but maybe it was just the nerves messing with my sense of time. Almost immediately, a familiar tightness settled in my chest, making me fidget in my seat.
“What’s wrong?” Mikkel asked, his concern deepening as he peered over at me.
“Nerves?” I said, though it came out as more of a question. He closed his book without hesitation, took my hands, and brushed his thumbs over my knuckles in a soothing rhythm.
I took a deep breath, my gaze dropping to our intertwined fingers. “Going back home can be tense. The last time I came back, it was a mess.”
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching mine, trying to understand. “The airport debacle?”
I swallowed hard, the words lodging in my throat like they didn’t want to be spoken. “Not just that,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s everything. Being here… it’s overwhelming.”
Mikkel nodded, his expression turning serious, almost protective. “I’ll be right there with you,” he said, his voice steady with determination, his gaze unwavering. “Besides, he’d be a dead man if he even thought about messing with you.”
The promise in his tone should have been comforting, and it was to some extent, but it only added to the knot of anxiety in my chest. That was another reason why I was on edge. The truth was, I knew I’d see Joshua or, at the very least, some unavoidable reminder of him.
And when that happened, no amount of stress balls or coping methods would be enough to hold back Mikkel’s temper.
He was fierce, and while I loved that about him, it terrified me too. I didn’t want this to escalate into something that would haunt us both .
The jet landed, jolting me from my spiraling thoughts. I turned to the window, expecting to see Welcome to San Francisco.
But something was off.
The landscape outside felt wrong—the muted skyline, the unfamiliar road signs.
I turned to Mikkel. “We’re in Pennsylvania?” My brow furrowed as I searched his face for answers.
His response was maddeningly casual. “We rerouted for a bit.”
“Rerouted? Why?”
His gaze held mine, warm and unreadable. “There’s something we have to do first.”
That was all he gave me. No further explanation, no hint. Just enough mystery to send my pulse skittering.
When we stepped off the jet, his voice cut through the hum of activity. “We’ll be ready for takeoff in five hours,” he told his crew.
A sleek black car waited for us. Mikkel led me inside, his touch as effortless as always, like it never wasn’t second nature to have his hand on me.
Thirty minutes passed in silence, thick with my unanswered questions and his deliberate patience. I tried to map the roads; tried to predict where we were going. Nothing clicked.
Except for one thing—Mikkel Suarez loved keeping me on my toes. And I had never found anything sexier.
I pulled out my phone and texted Aurora.
Me: We’re landing later than expected.
Aurora: Mikkel already told us.
Me: YOU KNEW?
Aurora: Go have fun, Abigail.
I scowled at the screen. So everyone was in on this except me ?
Before I could even attempt to figure it out, Mikkel stepped out of the car and opened my door, hand extended.
“Is it on my bucket list?” I pressed, my mind racing.
His lips twitched. “See for yourself.”
I turned, and my breath caught.
The world before me was alive.
A vast garden bloomed endlessly—roses, tulips, orchids entwined like a painting. The air brimmed with flowers and earth, birdsong threading the stillness.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Number ten from your list,” Mikkel said softly.
Longwood Gardens.
A stunned laugh escaped me. I had dreamed of this place, scrolled through hundreds of photos online, and imagined what it would be like to stand here. But I never thought I’d actually come.
And yet, here I was.
“Oh my gosh! Mikkel!”
His response was effortless, steady. “Let’s start exploring, Red.”
I barely heard him. My feet carried me forward, drawn to a cluster of pink roses. Their petals curled like delicate whispers of magic, and without thinking, I reached out, brushing my fingers against the softness.
Mikkel didn’t say a word. But when I turned, he was already watching me.
His gaze was heavy, reverent—like he’d been waiting for this moment.
“This is so beautiful.” My voice came out breathless.
He stepped closer, his hand sliding around my waist, pulling me into him like it was instinct.
Then, his voice low and certain, he said, “Not even close to how beautiful you are.”
Hand in hand, we wandered through the garden, every step deepening the magic. Vibrant flowers painted the landscape, birdsong wove through the air, and a peaceful silence wrapped around us. I forgot everything else—completely lost in this serene haven, with the man I love .
We passed a breathtaking bed of pink and white orchids, and I paused, taking it all in. Mikkel, always attuned to me, plucked one and gently tucked it behind my ear.
“Mikkel, I don’t think you can do that,” I said, smiling.
He chuckled softly. “I can do whatever I want.” His gaze roamed my face before settling on my eyes. “Besides, it looks beautiful in your hair.”
His quiet, sure tenderness tightened something in my chest. A tear slipped free.
Mikkel brushed it away with his thumb. Then, with that soft, knowing smile, he whispered, “Smile for me.”
I smiled as he pulled out his phone, capturing the moment with a few clicks, each shot making my heart flutter.
“You’re a work of art, mi reina ,” he murmured, still focused on the camera.
Warmth bloomed in me. I pulled him close, kissing him—soft, unhurried—a silent exchange beyond words.
When we finally pulled apart, I whispered, “That was perfect.” Then, with my fingers laced through his, I led him forward, savoring the scenery, the unexpected adventure, him.
A few minutes later, a tour guide named Louis appeared, his friendly grin breaking the spell.
Curious, I fired off questions, eager to learn more.
Most unique plant here? Corpse flower.
How old is the garden? One hundred and eighteen years old.
Best time of year to visit? Spring and fall.
With each answer, my excitement grew, like the garden itself was unfolding as a living storybook.
Then, I spotted clusters of yellow primroses, glowing under the afternoon sun.
I gasped. “These are my favorite!”
Louis smiled knowingly, glancing at Mikkel. “We were informed. There’s a set inside for you.”
I turned to Mikkel, my vision blurring .
“Don’t cry, mi reina , 152 ” he said, his voice a quiet caress. “ Te adoro . 153 ”
I let out a teary giggle. “ Te adoro too. 154 ”
Louis explained that primroses typically didn’t bloom this long, but the cool weather had extended their season. Even nature itself had conspired to make this moment last.
As the tour ended, my excitement didn’t fade. I rambled on about the flowers, my words tumbling out in breathless awe, and Mikkel— always listening —watched me with quiet affection.
“And did you see those roses? And the peonies?” I gushed. “I didn’t know they came in so many colors!”
Just as we prepared to leave, Louis returned with a small basket. From it, he pulled out a delicate, hand-knitted bouquet of primroses.
“These are for you,” he said, handing it to me. “Ten primroses, just as Mr. Suarez requested.”
I held the bouquet close, my heart nearly bursting. “Why ten?” I asked Mikkel softly.
His voice dropped, slow and deliberate. “Because ‘visit a flower garden’ was number ten on your bucket list. I first saw you on the tenth of March. Our first kiss was at ten p.m. on concert night. And not to mention—” his lips curved slightly, “you’re a ten.”
A shiver ran through me.
His words, his thoughtfulness, and the way his love showed in every detail—it was beautifully consuming.
“Oh, Mikkel,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
He pulled me into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I know, baby. I know.”
After thanking Louis and handing him a tip, Mikkel turned back to me, his gaze heavy with something deeper than love.
“You deserve the universe at your feet.” His fingers brushed my cheek. “I had these flowers knitted for you, so they’ll never wither.”
Tears pooled in my eyes, but I smiled. “There aren’t enough words in English or Spanish, to say how much you mean to me.”
Then, without hesitation, I closed the distance, kissing him softly.
Because this—this moment, this man—was everything.
Mikkel
Money did make the world go round. Three phone calls and a few thousand dollars later, we had the perfect day at Longwood Gardens. After the tour, we grabbed food to go and settled onto the jet.
Scrolling through the pictures of her, I found myself pausing on each one—her lost in nature, breathing in the scent of flowers, her smile radiating pure joy. Her beauty was almost too much to take in. The way she laughed, the way her eyes lit up at everything, completely captivated me. Every time I looked at her, I felt like the luckiest man alive, falling deeper with each glance. I didn’t just see her; I felt her—in my heart, my soul, every part of me. It was overwhelming, like constantly rediscovering her, finding new ways to fall for her every single day.
Five hours later, the jet touched down at a private airfield in San Jose. As we descended the steps, Aurora stood by a black SUV, arms crossed, eyes scanning the runway.
When Abigail spotted her, she sprinted toward her, nearly knocking her over with a tight hug. Laughter and squeals filled the air as they clung to each other. Aurora’s gaze flicked to me over Abigail’s shoulder, her eyes assessing, before a smirk curved her lips.
“Finally decided to pay us a visit, huh, Mikkel?” she teased.
I chuckled, shaking her offered hand. “Good to see you again, Aurora.”
We loaded the luggage and made our way to San Francisco. The drive passed in a comfortable mix of conversation and music, and the light mood continued with a few playful exchanges.
“Do you know how surreal this is?” Aurora asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror as we drove. “You have a jet.”
“I bought it recently. ”
“Why?” Her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Abigail has flight anxiety. I thought it was necessary.”
Aurora paused, disbelief and curiosity in her eyes. “You bought a jet because my sister has flight anxiety?”
I shrugged. “Pretty much.”
Abigail, a bit surprised, chimed in, “I didn’t know that.”
I smiled. “I didn’t tell you, mi reina . 155 ”
Aurora glanced at me sideways. “Do you have any friends? Asking for a friend…”
I laughed. “They’re all taken or don’t date.”
“Well, there goes my luck.”
Abigail’s eyes widened as a thought hit her. “Is that why it’s yellow?”
I nodded, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “Yes, mi vida. 156 ”
Her face lit up with excitement. “You’re insane.”
I squeezed her hand gently. “You’re worth it.”
When we arrived at the Asher family home, I was struck by its beauty—modern architecture, large windows, and an expansive driveway. A lovely front garden softened the edges, and a koi pond near the entrance added a peaceful touch.
But the green Rolls Royce Black Badge in the driveway truly caught my eye. Gleaming in the sunlight, its smooth curves and black accents made it look dreamlike. Absolutely stunning.
Aurora led us inside, locking the door behind us. I scanned the cozy space, my attention drawn to the picture wall—dozens of photos of Abigail, her family, and their shared memories.
Aurora smiled at us. “Mom and Dad aren’t home yet, so we have some time. Make yourselves comfy.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Aurora, I live here.”
Aurora shot back with a playful grin. “ Lived . You moved out, remember?” They both laughed, the sound light and easy, before Aurora walked off .
Abigail squeezed my hand and pulled me toward the stairs. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I followed her up, taking in every detail of the place she grew up in—each piece of her past adding layers to the woman I fell for. Her room was a perfect reflection of her: music posters, stacks of movies instead of a bookshelf, and fairy lights framing her vanity. A cozy yellow throw draped over an armchair made the space feel warm and inviting.
After we showered together, I noticed something was off. Abigail was moving slower than usual. When she collapsed onto the bed, rubbing her eyes, I could tell she wasn’t feeling well. I knelt beside her, concern clear in my voice. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I just have a bad headache.”
I quickly helped her get dressed, pulling her hair into a bonnet before kissing her forehead. “Get some rest, amor 157 . You need it.”
Her tired eyes met mine. “Aren’t you tired?”
I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m fine. Just make sure you sleep.”
She curled up on the bed, her breathing evening out as she drifted off to sleep.
A knock at the door pulled my attention. “Abi, come help me chop these vegetables!” Aurora called.
I stood, glancing at Abigail before opening the door. “She’s got a headache. I can help if you want.”
Aurora hesitated. “That’s fine—”
“I insist.”
She sighed, then nodded. “Alright.”
Downstairs, we fell into a rhythm, preparing chicken chow mein. After a while, Aurora glanced over and said, “Thanks for making my sister happy, by the way.”
I set down the knife. “I was just her moral support. She did it all on her own.”
Aurora’s expression softened. “She’s been through a lot, you know. Seeing her like this… she’s found her spark again. And I know you had a part in that, so yeah, I have to th ank you.”
“It’s my pleasure, Aurora,” I said sincerely.
We continued cooking, the buzz of the kitchen filling the space until a voice rang through the house.
“Angel.”
Aurora turned, smiling. “Mom, you’re home!”
I looked up as Alicia entered, her brown curls streaked with gray bouncing around her shoulders. Her almond-shaped green eyes gleamed as she greeted us, warmth radiating from her presence.
But it was her husband who held my attention.
He stood a few inches shorter, salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed, sharp brown eyes assessing—no warmth, just quiet calculation, as if fitting me into an unfinished puzzle.
Before I could dwell on it, Alicia’s familiar voice cut through the moment as she pulled me into a warm hug. “Mikkel! You get more handsome every time I see you.”
“It’s lovely to see you again, Alicia.”
I turned to her husband next, extending my hand. “It’s good to finally meet you, Mr. Asher.”
He clasped it in a firm shake, his grip measured. “Daniel,” he corrected, but his tone didn’t hold the same ease as his wife’s. “Likewise, Mikkel.”
Aurora wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. “Abi’s got a headache, so she’s sleeping, but Mikkel was helping me with dinner.”
Alicia shot me an approving look before turning to her daughter. “We can take it from here, angel.”
Aurora hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Alright.” She glanced at me briefly before disappearing down the hall.
That left just the three of us.
I shifted my stance. “Do you want me to check if Abigail’s awake?”
Daniel shook his head. “No need.” His voice was smooth but held an undercurrent of something firmer. “We want to talk to you.”
Alicia smiled, but there was something knowing in her expression. Like she could already tell where this conversation was headed.
Daniel grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, twisting the cap off with slow precision. “How did you and Abigail meet? ”
I met his gaze, unfazed. “At SFO. She was having a rough morning, so I went over to check on her. After that, we kept crossing paths in New York, and the rest is history.”
His brow lifted slightly. “A rough morning?”
I nodded. “She was stressed. I could tell.”
“And you decided to step in.” His voice was even, but there was something in the way he said it—like he was trying to see if I’d slip, if I’d say the wrong thing.
“She looked like she needed a moment to breathe,” I said simply. “So I gave her one.”
Alicia hummed, her lips curving. “Sounds like fate.”
Daniel didn’t comment. He set the water down with deliberate care before leaning against the counter. “Abigail mentioned you own a luxury car service?”
“That’s right. Elite Rides specializes in high-end transportation.”
“Quite the venture. Didn’t you just expand to Chicago?”
I inclined my head. “We did. The market was tough, but the expansion was worth it.”
“Chicago isn’t an easy city to break into,” he mused. “What made you choose transportation? It’s a competitive business.”
“I’ve always been drawn to logistics and efficiency,” I said. “But more than that, I saw an opportunity—people crave convenience, luxury, and security all in one package. So, I built an empire that delivers just that.”
His expression didn’t shift. If anything, his scrutiny sharpened. “Ambitious.”
There was a weight to the word, something between respect and skepticism.
“What’s next after Chicago?”
“Miami and Seattle,” I replied. “Then working through the East Coast.”
Daniel nodded slowly. “You have a solid plan.” He tapped his fingers against the counter, his gaze holding steady. “That brings me to my next question. You’re obviously busy; how do you balance all this with a relationship? ”
I didn’t hesitate. “Abigail is my priority. We understand each other’s responsibilities, and we make it work. Communication is key, and no matter how demanding things get, I always make time for her.”
His silence stretched for a beat too long. His stare didn’t waver, didn’t give anything away, but it was pressing in its own way. Searching.
Then, finally, he exhaled, nodding once. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
The conversation shifted after that, easing into business, life, and family. But even as Alicia’s warmth softened the moment, Daniel’s presence remained like an unspoken test, each question measured, each response dissected.
“So, what do you do in your free time, Mikkel?” Alicia asked.
“Mainly the gym,” I admitted. “It helps me reset.”
Daniel nodded. “Balance is important. I’ve seen too many men lose themselves in their careers.”
“My friends are my family, and Abigail is the most important part of my life.”
His gaze lingered, thoughtful, but something about his posture shifted. It wasn’t approval exactly, but it wasn’t rejection either.
Alicia smiled. “You’ve built a great life, Mikkel, and we can see that reflected in Abigail.”
I met her eyes, my voice sure. “She’s everything to me, and she knows it.”
She patted my arm before pressing a kiss to her husband’s cheek. “I’m going to get some work done.”
She left, and he didn’t move right away. Instead, he exhaled, swirling the last of the water in his bottle before setting it on the counter with a soft clink. His gaze found mine again, this time less like a test and more like a warning.
“I’ve heard the praises my wife sings about you,” he spoke evenly, his voice carrying an unmissable weight.
“And from this conversation, I can see why. You’re a determined, level-headed man—ambitious but grounded. A man who knows what he wants. ”
A pause. A shift. And then—
“Abigail is my baby,” he said, quieter now. “She’s twenty-three, but she’ll always be my little girl.”
I nodded, understanding the unspoken meaning.
“She’s far from home, and I want to thank you for making her happy.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Mr. Asher.”
“Daniel,” he corrected, his voice deliberate. He held my gaze, his silence charged with something protective, personal.
“I know how badly she’s been hurt,” he finally said. “And I never want her to go through that again.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I replied, my voice steady and certain. “I’d never let that happen.”
For the first time, something flickered in his expression—reluctant but unmistakable. After a pause, he nodded. “Alright, Mikkel. I’m trusting you with her.”
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.
I took a deep breath and turned toward the stairs, but froze when I saw Abigail sitting on the steps, tears staining her cheeks.
Panic gripped my chest as I rushed to her side. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I heard everything. The whole conversation with you and my parents.” Her voice was shaky, but a hint of humor crept in. “Aurora and I were eavesdropping—well, mostly me. She said she was going to die from the cuteness and then left to probably annoy mom.”
I chuckled, amused by how animated she sounded, mimicking her sister’s dramatic flair.
She pulled me into a kiss, and I wrapped my arms around her. “You have no idea how happy hearing that made me. I know my dad can be intense, and you, as expected, handled it so well, but actually hearing it… everything just…” She paused, taking a deep breath, and I placed my hand on her thigh. “It just made me feel all warm inside, Mikkel.”
I didn’t respond—just kissed her forehead and held her tighter.
I pulled back slightly to look at her. “Are you feeling better? ”
She shook her head. “I still have a headache.”
“Maybe you need to eat,” I suggested gently.
“Maybe.”
We walked to the kitchen, and I admired her as she moved around.
Without even looking back, she said, “I can feel your gaze on me.”
“Because I’m admiring you.”
She turned, setting a plate in front of me before sitting down at the table.
“My hair’s a mess, I’m in a worn-out sweatsuit because I’m cold, and my eyes are puffy.”
“You just called yourself beautiful in three different ways.”
She kissed me again, and we settled into a comfortable silence as we ate. Eventually, Aurora and her parents joined, and the conversation stayed light—full of laughter and casual chatter. I overheard a funny story from her dad about how, when Abigail was five, she’d tried to convince him she was a culinary genius, only to burn the toast.
As dinner came to an end, I started clearing the table, but Alicia stopped me.
“It’s fine, Mikkel, I can handle it.”
I shook my head. “It’s the least I can do.”
Alicia turned to Abigail, offering her a warm smile. “You’re in good hands, baby.”
Abigail smiled back, her eyes soft with reassurance. “I know I am.”