Page 114 of At First Flight
Eventually, the music fades into another song, something more upbeat, but neither of us moves to break the spell. His hand stays at my waist. Mine stays on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
“You should probably finish breakfast,” I murmur.
Dean lifts an eyebrow. “You saying you’re not going to let me twirl you around the kitchen like a 1950s housewife?”
I laugh, but the sound is breathless. “Only if you wear a frilly apron.”
His grin is boyish and mischievous. “Deal.”
He spins me once, and I stumble slightly, laughing harder now. When I land against his chest again, his hands hold me a little tighter, his mouth dropping to my ear.
“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed, Lila.”
I press my lips to his jaw, a featherlight kiss. “Right back at you, Dean.”
And I realize I can’t live my life waiting for the unknown. I need to live in the here and now, with the man who’s quickly stolen my heart.
Chapter Twenty-three – Dean
Something about the scent of smoke and sugar always hits me right in the chest. How it clings to your shirt, seeps into your skin, or reminds me of long, humid summer nights, sticky popsicle fingers, and second chances around a firepit. Today, it smells like hope.
The town barbecue is already in full swing by the time we pull into the gravel lot beside the community pavilion. Someone’s blasting Garth Brooks over the loudspeakers, the kids sprint barefoot across the grass, and the unmistakable sound of water balloons bursting sets off a ripple of shrieks and giggles.
Oliver is out of his booster seat before the SUV fully stops. Thank goodness for childproof locks. “Race you to the tug-of-war!” he yells when he’s finally set free, darting across the lawn with the kind of reckless speed only a five-year-old can get away with.
Evelyn climbs out slower, blinking behind her pink sunglasses like she’s taking stock of everything—the cotton candy machine, the bouncy castle, and the rows of picnic tables shaded by strings of lights. “Lila?” she says, holding up her arms.
Lila scoops her up without hesitation, tucking Evelyn against her hip like she was made for it. “Think they’ll have lemonade?”
“Yellow lemonade,” Evelyn insists. “Not pink.”
I shut the truck door and catch Lila’s eye over the roof. Her mouth curls in a soft smile, the kind that knocks all the air from my lungs. She’s wearing a pale green sundress that hits just above her knees, her waves tied back with a scarf Evelyn pickedout. She looks relaxed, sun-kissed, and more at home here than I probably ever have.
God help me, I think I’m in love with this woman.
Not the kind of love that’s shiny and new and promises the moon without ever delivering. This is something steadier. Something that makes your knees shake for an entirely different reason. Once you realize someone fits like that, like they were meant to exist in your kitchen, your yard, and your life, you also realize how devastating it would be to lose them.
Lila meets my gaze again as she sets Evelyn down and grabs her bag from the passenger seat. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “Just… happy you’re here.”
She smiles again, softer this time, and links her fingers with mine. “Come on. Let me show you where to find the world’s driest burgers.”
I chuckle and press a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ve been told you haven’t lived until you’ve had one of Dicky Smick’s hockey-puck specials.”
The truth is, I don’t care what they’re serving. I’m just glad we’re here together, all of us. For the first time in a long time, it feels like we’re not holding our breath.
The grill smokes steadily beside me as I flip patties and hand out paper plates like it’s my calling. Every dad in town stops by with some comment about my transition from city money to country calluses. I take the jokes in stride because honestly, it’s accurate. Three years ago, I was living it up, jet-setting across the world.
But now?
Now I know exactly how much to bribe Oliver with to eat coleslaw. I know Lila likes her coffee strong with two sugars, and only if she’s had at least five minutes of silence. I know Evelyn’s favorite dress, which lullaby calms her down fastest, and how Lila's shoulders relax when she’s reading with her feet curled under her.
So yeah, I’m still learning how to be “local.” But I’m also learning how to be theirs.
Dicky grins at me over the lid of the grill. “You’ve got that look, Dean.”
“What look?” I ask the man I met just ten minutes ago.
