Epilogue
Harbor
Three months later . . .
My life didn’t begin and end with Lark Summerlin. It froze in time because of her.
Lark wasn’t the type I usually dated back in high school or college, but she was the girl I fell hopelessly, madly in love with the moment I laid eyes on her. I still remember every detail about her.
Strands of hair loose that had escaped the elastic.
The way her eyes narrowed when she was trying to concentrate.
There was no doubt that she was there to learn.
I never thought I stood a chance after purposely bumping into her. Busy digging in her backpack, she never looked up. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if she had. Would I have done anything differently if we had met under those circumstances?
No.
The past six months have been a blur. Honestly, I can’t tell you a fucking thing we’ve been up to since most of that time was spent in bed. Just how we like it. Sure, we bought season tickets to the Yankees and went to games last summer.
Liz and Lark’s connection appears to be growing stronger each time they see each other. I’m glad they’re rebuilding their relationship. If I had to bet on them, I think they’ll heal most of their wounds. They both want to, they say, so that’s a positive sign.
When it comes to Lark and me, just being upfront, but our lives are pretty much sex, sleep, eat, work, repeat the rest of the time. And neither of us would have it any other way. I can’t imagine my life without her.
And I don’t plan to. Not ever.
That bird saved me that day on the ledge. Lark saved me years later. She didn’t just give me the time of day. She gave me the time of her life and made my life worth living. I’ll never stop thanking her for that opportunity.
It’s been a long day, and the apartment is quiet when I enter.
Without the lamp on in the bedroom, the only light is dusk sneaking in through the edges of the curtains.
I wish I could see more of my beauty, but I know my eyes will soon adjust. Dealing with ego-driven clients all day is exhausting, but when I see Lark with her hands tucked behind her back and completely naked on the bed, I’m fully energized again.
She smirks, knowing exactly what she’s doing. The siren.
Lark’s eyes roam over my body, settling on my dick for a few extra seconds before challenging me when she locks onto my gaze. She asks, “Hard day?”
“Getting harder by the second.” I grab her by the ankles and pull her to me. Hovering over her, I kiss her lips and tease her nipples before stripping my dress shirt and pants from my body. Seems only fair to finish and get fully naked like she is, so I do.
“Do you have dinner plans?” She bites her lower lip.
I rub the inside of her thighs and then drop to my knees, kissing them and spreading her legs apart. I kiss the soft skin and head higher, draping her legs over my shoulders. I run the tip of my nose along the bend of her leg and then inhale, closing my eyes.
She’s intoxicating, but our physical connection will never match the depth of the love I feel for her.
I can survive anything knowing she’ll be waiting for me on the other side.
She’s wholly captivated my soul, but she’s also squirming for attention, so I reply, “I do. I have plans for you, Dr. Summerlin.”
Dipping down, I make love to her with my mouth and then to her body, staring into those gorgeous green eyes of hers until neither of us can keep them open. Our releases hit hard, and we fall apart in each other’s arms.
Not forty-five minutes later, she moans in pleasure . . . beside me as she takes another bite of the blueberry pancakes we ordered. She reaches for a cup of orange juice and takes a sip as soon as she swallows her food. “I realized today,” she starts, “that I don’t exercise anymore.”
Chuckling, I say, “You get enough at home.”
“And I’m on my feet all day at work.” She takes a breath and leans back against the wall, wrapping one arm over her stomach. After setting the OJ down, she laughs lightly. “This is my love language right here. Feeding me carbs with a big helping of you, babe.”
She’s adorable.
After dragging her food through the syrup at the bottom of the tray, she then eats it. “Why does breakfast in bed make everything taste so much better?”
I finish my bacon and start back on my scrambled eggs. “Maybe it’s the company and not the food.”
“The company is pretty delicious.” Leaning over, she kisses my shoulder.
I’m tempted to kiss her syrupy lips. I’m craving her—all of her—again, but I resist even though she’s looking at me like she might prefer I have her for dessert. The woman’s insatiable.
Orange juice.
Food.
Syrupy fingers . . . mmm.
Fuck. That doesn’t help take my mind off my dick and how delectable she looks next to me. But then she asks, “You know what I could go for?”
Fuck it. Who am I trying to impress? I can’t resist her. I kiss her until the containers are forgotten and fall off the bed. I kiss her hard and then fuck her until she only remembers my name.
In the shower, she says, “I was going to say some homemade beans and franks, but the sex was better.” We fall into laughter and then start kissing. One thing always leads to another with her. When it comes to Lark, I’m the insatiable one.
After shutting off the lights and checking the locks, I settle back in bed next to her. She’s close to a deeper sleep, so I move to her and wrap my arm around her. I love this woman with all my heart. Yep, I’m the lucky one all right.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in the tranquility she brings, then quickly fall asleep wrapped around her.
I’m woken by the sound of pacing in the bedroom. Opening one eye and then the other, I find Lark near the window. “Hey,” I ask, my voice raspy with sleep. “What’s going on?”
She points across the room, and asks, “That’s what I’m wondering? What is that still doing in your possession?”
“What?” I twist to see a box in the dark near the bathroom. “What is it?”
“That’s what I’m wondering.”
I sigh and rub my eyes. Sitting up, I see the time—3:45 AM—and then slide my gaze lower across the room. From what I can make out, she’s in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top. “Are you going to make me get out of bed?”
She bends to pick it up and then comes to sit next to me. “Ah,” I add. “That.”
“Yes, that.”
“I thought you were going to tell me you’re pregnant or something.”
I earn a smile, although slight, for that. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” she asks, her tone softening along with her annoyance.
Reaching over, I caress her cheek with the back of my fingers. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
Leaning over, she gives me a kiss. “I love you.” She props back up.
“Now, tell me why you still have this box, babe. I thought this was long gone. You know I never want to be anything like a Bensimone.” Her nickname for bitch is quite entertaining, especially since the country club revoked the Bensimones’ lifetime membership, and my mom booted her from the fundraising organization she runs.
I chuckle. “You should have just opened it back at graduation.”
“You know I don’t like ridiculously expensive gifts. What’s the point in spending so much on something that you need a security guard when using it?” I adore her big heart and how superficial stuff doesn’t matter, but it also makes it hard to buy her presents sometimes.
Rubbing her leg, I reply, “Not sure if you remember, but I sell ridiculously expensive cars as gifts all the time. Those cars paid for the penthouse and our little addition up here.”
Her shoulders round, and she sighs this time. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, but open it, baby. I might surprise you in a good way.”
“You always surprise me in a good way.” She takes the end of the ribbons and pulls. “I’m nervous. It’s not a turquoise bag, is it? I’d hate that gift.”
“I thought of that, just to hear you laugh, but no, it’s not turquoise.” She stops and shoots me a glare. I chuckle harder. “It’s not a bag at all. Happy?”
“Okay, I’m happy,” she says, seeming to calm. She lifts the lid and sets it aside on the bed. “Another box?” She glances up and then pulls it out to give a little shake. “It has weight to it. What is it?”
I don’t have a nervous bone in my body. This is something I wanted to give her years prior, but the middle of the night works as well. “Just open it.”
She lifts the flaps on the box, removes the tissue, and then stops, covers her mouth, and starts crying. I wrap my arms around her and pull her to my chest. “It’s not that big of a deal.” I kiss her head.
Sitting up, she says, “Creating a scholarship in my name for kids who might never get the opportunity to follow their dreams is a very big deal.” She kisses me.
“And the best present you could ever give me.” She caresses my cheek.
“What an incredible graduation present. Thank you, babe.” She kisses me again.
I’ll take as many as she’s willing to give.
“You started this years ago, and I didn’t even know.”
“I wanted a gift that kept giving, so I cashed out one of my trust funds. The scholarship is fully funded for the next twenty years. And you’ve already had two Beacon graduates pursue higher education because of you.”
Though tears still glisten on her cheeks, she grins. “Because of you.”
This time I kiss her, rolling her gently onto her back. Staring into her eyes, I ask, “Will you marry me, Lark?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” She pulls me down to kiss her this time, and when our lips eventually part, she says, “A thousand times yes.”
My wife is stunning in a white, strapless dress with a skirt that just barely catches in the wind.
The brooch was her something old that she wore in her hair.
It was a nice touch, especially since her mom was there.
But for me, the little yellow ribbon she wore pinned to the garter—in her words, “to honor the bird that saved me”—cemented what I knew all along. I’m still the lucky one.
“You are the Lark that saved me, baby.”
John walked her down the aisle in the backyard of my parents’ home.
The ceremony wasn’t big, just the people who matter—my family, her dad, Amanda, and a few others who touched our lives along the way.
Even Dane stopped by as an invited guest. He shook my hand and wanted to thank me for changing his life.
I take no credit for that.
He changed the course of his life when he made amends with the people he hurt. Living with a clear conscience makes life so much sweeter.
My aunt wasn’t invited. I know it’s healthier to forgive her in the long run, but I’m not there yet.
But something Lark said to me more recently stuck. “There have been more than enough broken hearts in this lifetime.” After checking with her dad, she invited Liz.
And she showed up.
I leave her and John chatting at the buffet to find my bride near the garden just before sunset. “Need a breather?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her.
“No. Just wanted to stand back and take it all in. I used to work these events, and now, here I am hosting one.” She smiles. “It’s pretty surreal.”
Lark hasn’t changed from the girl I met, but I have.
For the better. Because if I learned anything along this journey to the altar, it’s that all we used to be doesn’t matter.
It’s who we are now that counts. When she helped me escape my past, I discovered who I had always wanted to be.
In business—my own boss. In my personal life—her husband.
Now I’ve achieved both.
I hold out my elbow, and she wraps her arm around it. “Are you ready to spend the next eighty years together?”
“Only eighty?” She laughs and bumps into me. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“I think forever sounds better. What do you think?”
“Sounds perfect to me, Doctor.”