Page 133 of Under Southern Stars
“Hmm.” She pretends to consider. “Maybe we could hyphenate. Mitchell-McKenzie.”
“Or McKenzie-Mitchell?”
She laughs. “We don’t have to decide tonight.”
“No,” I agree, pulling her closer. “We have time.”
“All the time in the world,” she murmurs, nestling against my chest.
As Sophia’s breathing deepens into sleep, I remain awake, marveling at the miracle in my arms. The journey that has brought us here—from radio flirtation to ER coffee delivery, from first dates to family revelations, from heartbreak to reconciliation—feels like both an odyssey and a homecoming.
For the first time in my life, I am fully known. Fully accepted. Not as the McKenzie heir with his paramedic hobby,not as a rebellious rich boy playing at real life, but as the complete, complicated man I truly am.
And that, more than all the vineyards and estates in the world, feels like the greatest wealth of all.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
SOPHIA
Morning sunlight filters through Jack’s bedroom window, warming my face and gradually pulling me from sleep. For a moment, I am disoriented—the unfamiliar room, the exceptionally comfortable bed, the solid warmth of Jack’s body pressed against mine. Then memory floods back—our confrontation in the sanctuary, our reconciliation, the night we’d spent rediscovering each other.
I shift carefully, not wanting to wake him, and study his face in repose. Sleep softens his features, erasing the worry lines that had etched themselves between his brows over the past few days. This close, I can see the faint scatter of freckles across his nose, the slight stubble darkening his jaw, the tiny scar near his temple that I’d never noticed before.
Jack McKenzie. Jackson Charles McKenzie. The paramedic with the accent. The vineyard heir. The man who had broken my trust and then earned it back through quiet acts of protection and raw honesty.
As if sensing my scrutiny, his eyes flutter open, momentarily confused before focusing on me. A slow smile spreads across his face—not the careful, hesitant smile of recent days, but the full, unguarded expression I’d fallen for.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. “Not a dream, then.”
“Not a dream,” I confirm, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.
The kiss deepens quickly, his hand sliding beneath the sheet to trace my hip, my waist, my breast. Heat blooms wherever he touches, my body responding with embarrassing eagerness. His leg slips between mine, and I gasp at the contact, already aching for him again.
Just as things are progressing from sleepy affection to something more urgent, my stomach grows loudly, breaking the moment.
Jack laughs against my neck. “Sounds like someone needs breakfast.”
“Ignore it,” I mutter, pulling him back toward me.
“Can’t have you fainting from hunger,” he teases, nipping at my earlobe. “Besides, I smell coffee. Mum’s probably had the staff preparing breakfast for hours.”
That gives me pause. “The staff. Your family. They’ll know I stayed here.”
“Probably.” His expression turns serious. “Does that bother you?”
I consider the question. Does it bother me? A few days ago, the idea of Jack’s family knowing the intimate details of our relationship would have mortified me. Now…“No,” I realize. “It doesn’t. Though I should probably check on Madison.”
“Mmm, good point.” Jack reaches for his phone. “I’ll text Emma.”
A moment later, his phone chimes with a response. “Emma says Madison is already at breakfast with everyone. Apparently, she’s been up since dawn with Lily, helping with the kiwi feeding.”
“I’ve never seen her voluntarily wake up early,” I marvel. “Your family has some kind of magic touch.”
“More likely it was the promise of seeing rare nocturnal birds,” Jack says, sitting up and stretching. “Speaking of magic touches…” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
I swat his shoulder. “Breakfast first. We’re going to need our strength.”
Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed in yesterday’s clothes (slightly wrinkled but presentable), we make our way hand-in-hand from Jack’s cottage toward the main house. The morning is crisp and clear, the mountains rising majestically against a brilliant blue sky.
