Page 95 of Kingmakers, Year Two

One I wouldn’t even want, now that I’ve fallen head over heels for Miles. There’s no other happy ending for me. I want Miles, and no one else.

“I want you to see it,” Miles tells me now, “I want you to see the grapes and the lake house. I want you to meet my family.”

“I’d love that,” I say, swallowing hard. In truth, I’m intimidated by the description of Miles’ parents. They’re brilliant and ruthless—they run half of Chicago. Having never known affectionate parents myself, I have a hard time picturing powerful people who might also be loving and supportive to their children.

“I told my mother about you,” Miles says.

“You did?”

I’m stunned. For all the promises Miles made to me, this is something different, something concrete and real. He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about moving forward with our relationship.

“Have you told your mother about me?” Chay says to Ozzy, in her teasing way. She’s only joking—she wouldn’t expect Ozzy to tell his parents about their hook-ups.

But Ozzy looks her in the eye, his face serious.

“Yes,” he says. “I did.”

Chay is taken aback. She’s quiet for a moment, then she says, “What did you tell her?”

“I told her I met a girl who’s bold and funny and creative, and absolutely fucking gorgeous, and that I’m crazy about her.”

Chay’s blue eyes are wide and startled. For once, she’s not laughing.

She opens her mouth to reply but doesn’t seem to know what to say.

It doesn’t matter—we’ve arrived at the cliffs, so she’s saved from responding.

Ozzy unzips his backpack, taking out a blanket, a bottle of wine, several packs of sandwiches, and a half-dozen apples.

“No glasses,” Ozzy says. “Seemed like they’d only end up smashed.”

“You remembered the bottle opener.” Miles pops the cork. “That’s all that matters.”

The wine is from the very vineyards we just traversed. The bottle is stamped with the plain, dark label showing an outline of the island, no text. It’s a rich, dark pinot noir that you have to drink carefully, because the effects creep up on you quickly.

Chay is uncharacteristically quiet as we eat and drink, looking out over the sparkling water at the setting sun.

We’ve come just in time to watch the heavy orange sphere sinking down into the waves. Enough clouds blanket the sky that we can look directly west, watching the colors change from pink to orange to a deep, bloody red.

“Tell me about your family,” Chay asks Ozzy, once we’ve drunk more than half the wine.

“I’m an only child,” Ozzy says, taking an aggressive bite out of an apple. “I’ve got a million cousins, though. We grew up wild and feral in Tasmania. We’d go surfing in the Bay of Fires—there’s orange lichen all over the rocks, so it really does look fiery, especially when you’ve got a sunset like this one going. We’d run through the lavender fields in February when they bloom. There’s tulip fields too, and raspberry farms—it’s fucking gorgeous, really. Nobody knows how pretty ‘cause nobody comes to see it.”

Ozzy’s face is half-lit by the setting sun. The shadows bring out the rugged lines of his broad nose and jaw and the deep dimples as he smiles. Ozzy may not be conventionally handsome, but his warmth and charm are undeniable, especially when he’s speaking in his bright, lilting accent.

“I’d like to see it,” Chay says softly. She’s looking at her hands when she says it, and then she chances one quick glance up at Ozzy.

“Don’t tease me, girl,” he growls. “I’ll buy you a ticket right now.”

I’m leaning back against Miles’ chest, feeling warm as toast with his arms around me. As the sky darkens, the rhythm of his breath rocks me, and I become sleepy and peaceful.

“What are you thinking?” Miles murmurs in my ear.

“I’m thinking this is the best day of my life.Allthe best days have been with you—they just keep getting better.”

“My mother told me that once,” Miles says quietly. “When you find your soulmate . . . every day is the best day.”

He tilts my head back so he can kiss me.

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