BONUS CHAPTER

KENZI

My upper arm stings and throbs as I leave the tattoo shop, but the pain was so worth it. Lukas did an amazing job—the design came out even better than I’d envisioned. For the past four hours, I sat as still as I could, babbling his ear off in an attempt to distract myself from the burn of the needle while he worked his magic. Lukas—my dad’s youngest cousin—is known as much for his kindness and patience as he is for his brilliant, ultra-realistic tattoo work. Now I understand why.

Lukas refused to let me pay him, even though I’ve been saving up for months. “Consider it a belated birthday gift,” he’d said with a smile before he disappeared behind the black velvet curtain that screened his work area.

“Don’t worry about it. He never charges family,” Rayne assured me from her post at the reception desk, where she’s effortlessly braiding a thin purple scarf into her long dark hair. She’s my dad’s sister, which also makes her my aunt. She’s twenty-one years old, a little more than a year older than me.

Welcome to my strange, but very blessed, life.

I head toward the parking lot with my keys in one hand and my phone in the other, scanning the text messages I missed while getting my tattoo. My best friend, Chloe, has sent me a photo of her new bob cut—which looks adorable—and my dad has sent two messages asking how my tattoo appointment went.

I tap out a reply to my father and then BAM —I run straight into something solid in the middle of the sidewalk.

Or some one , to be more accurate.

My keys and phone hit the ground. I bend down to pick them up and my purse falls off my shoulder, spilling its contents because I never snap it closed. Three pens scatter. A rabbit-head Pez dispenser bounces to the side and coughs up a pink rectangle candy. A tube of glittery lip gloss rolls across the sidewalk until the tip of a large black leather boot stops it. The owner of said boot kneels in front of me and gathers up my belongings.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I’m sorry. Totally my bad. I wasn’t paying attention.”

His deep voice penetrates through flesh and bone and settles around my heart like a cat cozying up to a fire. A rush of warmth spreads through my chest. I peek through the curtain of my blond hair, and my breath catches in the hollow of my throat.

“Neither was I,” I whisper.

He visibly swallows. “Kenzi…”

“Tor.” His name rides the breath I’d been holding. Much to my parents’ dismay, it was my first word as a baby. I wonder how many times I’ve said his name since then. It must be thousands. Possibly millions. It’s still my favorite word, my favorite name, my favorite everything.

He is my favorite everything.

Our eyes lock, exchanging telepathic messages in a way we’ve been able to do for the past nineteen years. I missed you so much. I love you. Am I dreaming? Don’t ever leave me again.

He stands and holds his hand out, pulling me up to my feet. With a racing heart, I shove my things into my purse and comb my hand through my hair as I take him in. How is it possible that he keeps getting more attractive with age? He looks absolutely, deliciously sinful. His black T-shirt is tight across his arms and chest. The thin material does nothing to hide the fact that he’s been working out hardcore again. His dark hair is shorter than it was the last time I saw him, but it still reaches the top of his broad shoulders.

“I had no idea you were in town already,” he says. My body hums to life under the gaze of his soulful, hooded eyes that are now dark, serious, and slightly troubled. Butterflies awaken and stir in my stomach.

How can he be as familiar to me as my own reflection, but at the same time feel so breathtakingly new and exciting?

“I moved back here about a month ago. I’m living with Rayne.” I point back to the tattoo shop. “That’s why I’m here. She works here and I had to drop something off for her.” Lying isn’t a habit of mine, but I don’t want him to know about my tattoo yet.

He nods, still holding my gaze. “I was just heading there for my tattoo appointment.”

I smile at the memories of trailing my lips and fingertips over all his tattoos while making love under the veil of his soft bedsheets. Tingles buzz in my thighs and shoot up my spine.

“You’re still getting ink? I’m surprised you have any open skin left,” I tease.

“We’re working on my legs now.” He pauses and I catch the slight tick of movement above his cheek. It would go unnoticed by a stranger, but I know his jaw is clenching involuntarily with stress or worry—something that started when his father passed away many years ago. “How have you been?” he asks.

I can read Tor like a well-loved book. He’s wondering why I didn’t call him the moment I was back in town. I wanted to. It’s been nothing short of torture to be just a few miles away from him and not go see him, wrap myself around him like a ribbon, and never let him go.

But I promised myself I would do this right. Or as right as I possibly could.

“I’m doing well,” I say. “My calligraphy business is doing great. I’m actually designing a lot of hand-lettered tattoos for people, especially for Lukas’s clients, and I’m selling a lot of the cookies I told you about.”

I’ve been proud of the success of my artwork and baking ventures, but I can’t help comparing my little budding career to those of Toren’s ex-girlfriends, which include a famous rock star, a nurse, and a bank loan manager. Will a thirty-four-year-old man think my steps into adulthood are glaringly immature?

As much as I believe in us, sometimes small waves of doubt creep in—making me wonder if our age difference might cause bumps down the road.

“The cookies with the writing?” he asks.

“Yeah. A lot of brides have been buying them. And I just started making some for dogs that have cute words on them.”

“Wow, that’s really cool. I’m proud of you, Angel.”

My heart flutters and I want to forget all this awkward small talk. This isn’t us, and this isn’t how I wanted our reunion to go. My chest aches with the need to touch his face, to feel his lips on mine and his muscular arms around me. I want to be alone with him—at his house or by our favorite rocks near the river—and have a real conversation.

“Thank you.” I take a deep breath and continue. “I was going to call you once I got settled.”

The tiny lines on his forehead furrow. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” His voice is low and tinged with a painful disbelief that just about cracks my heart in two. My waiting was never, ever meant to hurt him. “Why were you waiting to call me? What if I hadn’t run into you just now?”

Tears burn my eyes as I meet his, silently begging him to understand my need to come back home—to this town, to my friends and family, and to him—in a way that would do the least amount of damage.

“Because I wanted us to reconnect with me being on my own. Not living in my father’s house. Even though he’s doing his best to accept it, I couldn’t have you coming over to see me in his house, or make him watch me leave his house to go to yours and then come back again later that night. That’s the place where you were my uncle and I was your niece, and I think we need to stay away from those memories for a little while, at least in front of him.”

Slowly, he takes in my explanation, then nods. “Okay. That makes sense, and I can accept that.”

“I was definitely going to call you, Tor. Please don’t think I wasn’t. I just wanted us to start off right, and I wanted some time with my father, too. To make sure he’s really okay. I just wanted to do everything right.”

And that’s the mountain I’ve been facing and trying my best to tackle: Is there any way to make falling in love with your father’s lifelong best friend right for everyone involved?

He reaches for my hand and holds it tight in his. We stare at each other, taking careful breaths. It’s the first time we’ve ever touched in public as a couple. I squeeze his hand and smile reassuringly.

This is right. We can do this.

“Can I take you to dinner?” he asks.

His question sends my heart into a spasm of frantic beats filled with long-suppressed hopes and wishes. “I’d love to. When?”

Tonight. Please say tonight. I can’t wait another day or I might burst into a million tear-shaped pieces right here on the sidewalk.

Tor’s boyish grin—my favorite—flashes across his full lips. “Is tonight too soon?”

A small laugh of relief and sheer happiness comes out of me. “Tonight is perfect.” My brain is already mentally scanning my closet, trying to choose the perfect outfit.

“Can I pick you up?”

“Sure. Let me write down my address for you. Me and Rayne are renting a studio apartment in a converted barn in Amherst,” I explain as I dig through my purse for a pen and a scrap of paper. “I know this is awful, but I keep forgetting the address.” My fingers tremble with excitement as I jot the address. “I’ve only been there two weeks. I stayed at my dad’s for a few weeks before I moved in with Rayne.”

His fingers brush against mine when he takes the paper from my hand. I want to grab them and pull him closer. He stares at the note like it’s a winning lottery ticket.

I have so much I want to say, but for right now, there’s just one thing I need to tell him.

“Tor,” I say softly. “The message in the bottle was amazing. It really made me see everything so clearly. I loved it. Every night before I go to sleep, I read it.”

His chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “I was hoping you would.”

“And I did make a wish that night. With the penny you sent.” I close the space between us and take his hands in mine.

“You want to share it with me?” That subtle, sexy, teasing tone almost makes my knees buckle. He laces his long, rough fingers between mine and presses our palms together. His are warm and slightly calloused, just as I remember them. I’ve missed his touch so, so much.

“I wished for you. And us. And happiness.”

He releases one of my hands to gently lift my chin. I stare up into the eyes of the man who has loved me, taken care of me, and been my very best friend without falter since the day I was born.

Sharing such an unconditional, timeless love and connection with him is indescribable. To me, it is the very essence of a fairy tale.

“I can make that happen,” he whispers, lowering his lips to mine. I cling to his arm as he kisses me long, deep, and tantalizingly slow, his hand cradling the side of my throat, holding me to him. As if I’d ever think of breaking our kiss after waiting all this time. His possessive touch steals my breath and sends ripples of excitement through my veins.

Tonight can’t come fast enough.

“I still love you the most,” I whisper to him between kisses. “I never stopped.”

He leans his forehead against mine and lets out a contented sigh. I can almost feel the weight of worry from the past year lifting from him.

“Neither did I, Angel. I never will.”