Page 67 of California Love Songs
As he came forward and put his arms around her, he gazed into her eyes. “If the song didn’t make it clear, I’m in love with you.”
She let out her breath. “Oh, Damien. I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen years old.”
He laughed, his eyes dancing as he looked into hers. “Well, it took me a while to catch up. But let’s not waste another minute. Shall we dance?”
Nick had turned the music back on and the room transformed as a slow, sexy ballad began to play. As she snuggled in his arms, she knew there was nowhere else she’d rather be. They had taken a while to find each other, but somehow she knew that this man who’d traveled the world with his songs was home to stay.
To be with her.
To be each other’s eternal love song.
Epilogue
Nick Davenport sometimes wondered how he’d ended up in this family.
He looked around the crowded living area and watched the spectacle in front of him. It was almost as though it was a stage show. In fact, if you moved the people currently celebrating Crystal’s birthday to Vegas and put them on a stage, they’d fit right in. Nick had never seen so much glitter and so many sparkles in one place. He didn’t even understand why a thirtieth birthday party involved sparkles and sequins anyway. It wasn’t logical.
Nick understood logic and data. And streamlining. That was how he’d made his fortune. He designed apps that basically got rid of the interference between moving from A to B, getting a task done, being efficient. That was how his mind worked. He couldn’t think of anything less streamlined or efficient than a bunch of people jumping around in sparkles.
Yet, oddly, he was enjoying himself, even if he did feel more like a spectator than an integral part of the celebration.
He loved how much his family liked to come together and entertain. His siblings could drive him crazy, but they always had each other’s backs. Lately, it seemed they’d all decided that now was the time to fall in love and couple up. Watching Damien and Crystal dancing cheek to cheek, he had to admit that the rock star and the party planner had come as a complete surprise to him.
Crystal had been part of their lives ever since she and Erin got friendly in high school. He remembered her sitting at the kitchen table doing her homework with Erin, Crystal always the more scholarly of the two. He could sort of remember glimpses of her through the years, changing hair styles, changing fashions as the pair of them grew older and grew from awkward teenagers to the beautiful women they had both become. He remembered her getting Damien his first gigs in high school. How proud of him they’d all been. While Crystal and Erin had remained close friends, Damien and Crystal had also forged a strong friendship and he saw at last what had probably been brewing for years.
They’d fallen in love.
He paused his reflections when Opal, the young musician Damien had been mentoring, walked in. She’d probably hoped to sneak in unnoticed, but Damien caught sight of her and, still holding Crystal’s hand, walked over to give his protégée a bear hug.
Crystal followed suit. “I heard the news,” Crystal said. “It’s fantastic.”
Opal looked both excited and scared. “Thanks. I can’t believe it. I got a record deal.”
Jay Malone swooped over. “I hear congratulations are in order,” he said in his booming voice. He stuck out a hand. “I’m Jay Malone. Arch’s agent. If you need help with anything, I’d be happy to meet with you.”
“Jay, man, this is a party. Stop hustling for clients,” Damien said, half laughing. “I’ve got my lawyers looking over the contract.”
“Excellent,” Jay said, unfazed. “I don’t need more clients, but I think every artist needs an agent. I could help you find the right fit.”
“Thanks,” Opal said, clearly overwhelmed by her new success.
Nick still hadn’t gotten over the shock of seeing Erin so happy with Jay Malone, who was wearing a gold cape, tight gold trousers, and a gold mesh shirt that looked like chain mail. If the Vikings attacked Carmel, Jay would be ready to meet them. And probably sign them to a contract as movie extras.
Archer was the only married sibling, though Mila was on her way, and it looked like Damien was a lifer. Arch and Tessa were standing with some people that Nick didn’t know, probably Crystal’s friends. They were holding hands. It seemed to him that everywhere they went they were holding hands, or one was touching the other’s back, or had an arm draped over the other’s shoulders. There was no question they were a unit. Solid teammates, who were also deeply in love.
Arch dressed up all the time. It was part of his job, so it wasn’t such a shock to see him in head-to-toe glitter and sparkles. He and his artist wife were in sort-of matching outfits—she in a dress of gold lamé, and he in a suit of the same material.
But Tessa, being an artist, had written Happy Birthday Crystal around the hem and painted flowers and swirls on the fabric. Because obviously it wasn’t garish enough. She’d also hand-painted a sash like the ones beauty contestants wore that Crystal was now proudly sporting.
Erin came over to talk to Opal, probably to dilute Jay’s boisterous personality, and once more, Crystal danced with Damien. Damien—world-famous rock star, who’d dated some of the most glamorous women in the world—had found true love right here at home with a girl he’d known since high school.
That was the reason Nick stuck to data. And computers. And programs. There was logic there. They made sense. There were patterns. Human interactions were far too random and bizarre for him.
While he was musing, a diminutive older woman came toward him. Margaret Percy lived in one of the fairytale houses in Carmel-by-the-Sea and had been a family friend since before he was born. It was impossible not to like Margaret. She never let her age—which was well over eighty—get in the way of her zest for life.
She was currently dressed as though she were at Woodstock, and he had to wonder if maybe she had been and the outfit was a relic from the sixties. Though probably at Woodstock their bell-bottom jeans hadn’t been covered in sequins. And probably they wouldn’t have worn high-heeled silver boots in all that mud.
Margaret had threads of sequins wound through her gray hair and strings of fake diamonds around her neck that caught the light as she moved. “Nick Davenport,” she said, accosting him, “why aren’t you out there dancing?”
