And now to face the gauntlet, to move on and forward . . . and to make a difference instead of hiding beneath my armor.
“Thank you,” I said again. “For . . . being more of a mother to me in a week than I’ve ever had.”
Belle sniffed.
I sniffed.
Damon tugged me against his chest.
Diego tugged Belle against his.
We all stood there for a moment, quiet and thoughtful. They should have been strangers and yet . . . they weren’t. Because of Damon, because of how they’d welcomed me into their little family with open arms.
Finally, Belle pulled away and sighed. “You’re coming back for Thanksgiving and Christmas.” Another order. “Colleen and Cindy are dying to meet you.”
I didn’t mind this order either. Especially because this one made my lips twitch. I’d spoken to Colleen briefly on the phone, thanking her after Damon had mentioned she’d called trying to warn him when the story first broke. She was as sweet and kind and funny as the rest of the Garcia crew. “I’ll be here,” I said then poked Damon lightly. “We’ll see about this one and his workaholic tendencies.”
“Hey! I’ve got months off,” he said in mock-outrage. “Meanwhile, the woman I love is spending the next three in Hawaii.”
I reached for the doorknob, started to turn it. “You know the good thing about having all that time off?”
“What?”
“That you can spend it in Hawaii.” I smiled as his eyes warmed then opened the door and stepped out. “With me.”
That shot—me striding through the front door of Damon’s parents’ house, clad in jeans, sneakers, and a simple hoodie, hair in a red sheet behind me, my makeup simple, huge smile on my face as the man I loved looked out at me lovingly—made the front page of almost every paper in the world.
It had even more shares than the silver bikini.
Shooting on Born Free, the action film set in Hawaii, was going much better than the rom-com with Grant, and it had been all of one day.
Or maybe that was because my male co-star wasn’t an ass.
The surf and sun and beautiful sandy beaches didn’t hurt much either.
I’d let the interview from the primetime show stand on its own for now, wanting to focus on finalizing plans for my charity and pulling together the staff who would run it. I could be the face and give the starting funds, but I didn’t know how to best get help to those who need it, wasn’t familiar with all of the laws and legalities of providing that assistance.
I just knew I wanted to help make a difference.
“Hey,” Damon said, coming up behind me. He held a cup of coffee over my shoulder and I took it as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Thanks.”
He rested his chin on my shoulder, both of us staring out the window . . . or maybe that was just me because a few moments later, he pressed his lips to my throat and murmured, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I snorted. “You’ve been around beautiful women your whole career.” I took a sip from the mug then set it on the small table and spun to face him, my lips tilting up. “Not that I’m saying I won’t take the compliment.”
He slipped his hand into my hair. “Is that all it takes to get into your heart, sweetheart? Some pretty words?” His lips brushed mine.
“I’m easy,” I teased.
“Not that,” he murmured against my mouth. “But nothing worth it is ever easy.”
“Mmm,” I said and took his hand, leading him back toward the bed. “Well, come and show me how easy you are.”
“What about the coffee?” he asked. “I fought with the coffeemaker for thirty minutes just to make that one cup.”
I slipped the T-shirt I’d been wearing over my head, dropped it to the floor.
“What was that about coffee?”
He scooped me up into his arms and tossed me onto the bed. “Forget coffee.” A brushing kiss to my lips, a nip to my throat. “How long until you have to be on set?” he asked.
“Hours yet.”
He grinned then began kissing his way down my chest, my stomach, taking a moment to divert to my breasts.
I moaned, my fingers weaving into his hair, holding him to me.
“I think I can work with hours,” he said against my skin.
A nip, a kiss, a flick of his tongue . . . and I knew he could, too.
I also knew he could work with days, with months.
With years.
And that I finally could, too.
Epilogue
Damon, Thanksgiving
“I can’t wait until Christmas,” Colleen exclaimed. “Damon can be little orphan Annie again and—”
“Not on your life,” I muttered.
Eden turned from where she was peeling potatoes over the sink. “I don’t know, I’d love to see you in that curly red wig. Or better yet, with a perm.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but she just winked at Colleen and turned back to the potatoes. I’d known they would get on thick as thieves, but I hadn’t expected the natural consequences of that.
Namely, that they’d turned their collective attention toward teasing me.
I protested and pretended to hate it, but in reality, I was thrilled that Eden had fit so perfectly into my family. She spoke to my mom almost more often than I did, had called Colleen several times before we’d met up for Thanksgiving. Cindy hadn’t been able to get time off from work, but we would all be together at Christmas.
But besides the communicating, she’d jumped right in when we’d arrived two days before, teasing and joking, cooking—more than just blueberry pancakes—and sharing set secrets with Colleen and my mom.
In many ways, she was unrecognizable from the woman I’d known over the years.
And yet, she was the same.
Just . . . freer.
I nipped her ear and reached past her to grab the now naked potatoes, bringing them to my cutting board and cutting them into smaller chunks as my mom had ordered. Then into
