Epilogue
Zarautz
Abuela batted Matthew’s hands away when he tried to clear the table.
“Lo siento, Abuela,” he said. “Solo intento ayudar.”
“No lo necesito, mijo.” She raised a towel at him playfully, preparing to snap him with it. “Fuera, fuera!”
“All right, I’m out!” He turned to Jasmine. “She’s all yours, mi amor. Hace calor en esta cocina.”
Jasmine looked like a dream in a simple ivory muslin dress. After months in Spain, her complexion had darkened with her time in the sun, and her smile brightened.
“Go on.” She giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll meet you outside.”
As he left the kitchen, Matthew caught the approving wink Abuela gave Jasmine. Carmen looked much like Aunt Valentine, except she was shorter and rounded. Each night, they had dinner together. Her pollo al chilindrón was mouth-watering—but he still preferred Jasmine’s.
Matthew nodded to Abuelo. Don Felipe had salt-and-pepper hair, wrinkles around his eyes, and a new wine to enjoy every evening. Tonight was a txakoli, a white wine so dry and tart it made his cheeks hurt.
“Hasta manana, Abuelo,” Matthew said. “Buenas noches.”
The older man smiled. “Buenas noches, muchacho mío.”
Stepping outside, Matthew was greeted first by warm, humid ocean air. A golden sunset kissed obsidian water, and above, a red sky was painted with pink clouds.
Once on the beach, he removed his shoes and rolled the legs of his trousers up to his knees. The sand held the leftover heat of the day, warming his feet. He walked into the water until waves lapped at his ankles.
“Is it cold?”
He turned to see an angel descending the steps. Jasmine’s feet were already bare, and her hair tied back in a ribbon. Loose tendrils swayed about her face when she padded to him.
He opened his arms to her. “Come find out.”
She stepped into his hold, with her back pressed to his chest. He held her and supported her against the waves. The shifting sands pulled them deeper into the water, but he held them steady.
He still couldn’t keep his hands off her. When he wasn’t stealing kisses from her, she stole them from him. He placed his lips on her temple and closed his eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“Te amo,” she returned, nuzzling her head under his chin. “Do you wish to go back to the villa?”
“Not yet. Let me hold you like this a few minutes longer.”
“You can hold me for as long as you like.” Her arms covered his and she squeezed. “But hold me tighter.”
Matthew did as she asked. “I had a thought today…”
“Oh goodness.” He could hear the smirk in her voice. “What was it?”
“I’m not ready to return home yet. Why don’t we extend our honeymoon for another month?”
“What about our family?”
“They’re still in Bolderwood, I received a letter this morning. Cassandra and the baby are doing well. She can look after Caroline until we get back. Seth and Zeke have the factory under control. Nothing needs our attention.”
“Yes, I would love to stay.” She turned to face him, and placed her arms around his shoulders. “I’m happy here.”
“I’m happy too.” And he found that he meant it.
Matthew threaded his hands through Jasmine’s hair, and he kissed her—as deep and steady as the ocean they stood in. All he needed to do was take his wife to bed and love her until the sun rose again.
Everything else could wait.