“Exactly. And since your best friend happens to be my sister, we’d be running into each other a lot.”
I fake-grimace at that, and he smiles. When he reaches to cup my face in his warm hands like he can’t help himself, I tilt into his palm. “I guess it’s no secret that you came with a pretty big warning label,” I say in a trembling voice. “Because of that, I kept waiting for you to let me down. But all you’ve done is lift me up. I know I’m not very good at accepting help, but you kept giving it to me anyway because you knew I needed it. Every day, I waited for you to walk away, but all you ever did was show up.” I reach for his hand, and our threaded fingers drop to my side. “But Dylan, you’re not the worst man for me. If anything, it’s the opposite. You may be cooler and more confident than anyone I know, but sometimes I wonder if, deep down, you believe some of the bullshit that’s been said about you. And while I can’t buy you nice things—yet,or pretend to know anything about photography, maybe there’s one thing I can help you with.”
His eyes shine with affection as they move over my face. “What’s that, baby?”
I gently lift both his hands and fold open his fingers, stroking my thumbs over the words “Love” and “More” inked across his knuckles. I then guide his hands to his chest, holding them against himself.
Tears spring to his eyes, making them glisten a watery blue. He lets go of his chest to glide his hands around my lower back, pulling me close. “Yesterday, you said you had too many ‘what ifs’ in your life, too many unknowns,” Dylan says. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t give you one more.” He pauses for a moment, biting into his bottom lip. A gorgeous blush overcomes his face as he gazes right into my eyes. “What if I love you, Jade Quinn?”
My chest breaks open, liquid warmth rushing inside and filling up every part of me. “What if I love you too?”
EPILOGUE
JADE
My gaze roamsover Dylan’s bulging bicep as he grips the side of the cardboard box and peers into it. “Misplaced your dentures?” I tease as he sets the box down.
“Nah, just your pacifier,” he deadpans, and I snort-laugh and lean forward to give him a playful shove. He catches my arm mid-strike and tugs me into his chest instead, wrapping his solid arms around me.
I tilt my face to stare up at him and soak in that rush of warmth I still get whenever he sets his blue eyes on me. “You know these age jokes are weird and creepy.”
“But you love weird and creepy,” he replies before lowering his lips to mine.
We sink into a deep, heavenly kiss, and right here on the concrete floor of his parents’ old garage, we make out like teenagers until we’re both left panting. When we eventually pull back, Dylan’s hand curls tightly around my jaw, and my fingers stroke the soft tendrils of his hair.
Reluctantly, I untie myself from his arms. “Stop distracting me.”
Sitting on my knees, I hunch over the box Dylan opened and pull out a bubble-wrapped stack of hand-painted ceramic plates. “Oh yeah, this is the new set we have all those pre-orders for. Magnolia’s new collection must be coming tomorrow.”
The highest-selling artist in my online store is, hands down, Magnolia Sloane. Her gruesome sculptures have become so popular that an art gallery in New York tried to snap them up on an exclusive contract, but I managed to negotiate a deal to be her sole supplier nationally. Go me.
I sit back and assess the new stack of boxes that’s going to grow even larger tomorrow. With the motorbikes in here that Dylan inherited, the existing stock sitting out in ordered piles, and the small desk I brought in to work from, we’re officially out of room. Letting me take over the garage was such a sweet gesture, but QuinnStudio.comis roaring ahead, and the last thing I want to do is hold back the train.
“We need more space,” I muse aloud.
“Are you saying you’re ready?” Dylan asks with a smirk.
He’s talking about the renovations of the old Quinn Brothers store that I’ve been planning for months. Since the fire, the store space has been rebuilt, but it’s still an empty shell. With the hefty insurance payout and the website profits combined, there’s more than enough money to start building. Dad keeps saying that he can’t wait to watch the old space transform into a boutique art gallery and homewares store. I’ll still keep the website, but it’s time we have a physical presence for people to come in and view what’s on offer.
With Hayley’s help, I’m hoping to attract even more important artists from the area, and Dylan’s going to sell his photos there too. Now that the Kings have opened a location next door where the old ice cream shop and Harringtons used to be, the area is buzzing with foot traffic.
“I’m ready,” I say. Because I am. So freaking ready.
Dylan’s smile widens. “I’ll make that call to my contractor friend. It’s time to get this gallery built and born.”
Holy shit,speaking of born… I dig my phone out of my back pocket and check the time. Ruby’s appointment must be over by now. Why haven’t I heard from her? I dial her number, and she answers on the third ring.
“I was just about to call you.” She sounds breathless and overjoyed. “The doc was running behind, so we only just came out. We’re having a boy!”
“Oh my god!” I scream. Dylan’s brows fly up, and I quickly cover the handset and explain, “Ruby and Flynn are having a boy.”
He grins. “Congrats. I’ll give Flynn a buzz later.”
I rest my back against the garage wall, beaming while Ruby talks me through her latest ultrasound and how her morning sickness has finally subsided. Dylan and I still joke about how Flynn didn’t waste any time, given their wedding was five months ago.
After Ruby and I hang up, I point my phone at Dylan. “You’re not hogging this baby like you do Charli.” Charlotte is Iris and Justin’s adorable six-month-old, whom Dylan watches two days a week with Ella and is equally obsessed with.
“No promises. You know that all the little monsters worship me.” He glances at his watch and climbs to his feet. “We better get going, baby.”
