A week after my brief trip to California, I drive to the airport again. This time, it’s to meet my husband on his return from Italy. Dean had emailed me that he would take a taxi from the airport, but no way am I waiting an extra two hours to see him come home.
For good.
Not “for better” or “for worse.”
For good.
Dean’s flight is scheduled to get in at six in the evening, and I arrive at the airport an hour early. I find an empty bench at the gate exit and sit down. By the time the plane lands, I’m jittery with excitement.
After what seems like an interminable wait, tired-looking passengers clutching bags and carry-ons begin to disembark. I stand up, searching the crowd. A few minutes later, a tingle ripples over my skin.
He walks past the open doors, my beautiful, dark-haired husband who would stand out in a crowd of Greek gods. He looks incredible in faded jeans and a rugby shirt, his face dusted with rough stubble. His hair is a little longer, curling over his ears, and I’m struck with a visceral memory of seeing him for the first time and experiencing that intense, hot pull of attraction.
I feel that rush again, uncoiling in my blood, but this time—more powerfully—my heart surges with joy and love. Dean doesn’t see me as he starts down the stairs, but when he reaches the bottom, he looks up.
His glance passes right over me. He starts to turn toward the baggage claim area.
Then he stops. He turns back, his gaze colliding with mine.
For the first time, I don’t run and leap into his arms, although the urge to do so is almost overwhelming. Instead I smile and approach him, holding out my hands.
“Welcome back, love of my life.”
He stares at me, stunned, his hands closing warm and strong around mine.
“Liv.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to bring you home.”
He’s still staring at me. He clears his throat. “You… uh, you cut your hair.”
“I did.” I turn to show him the back of my short, sleek haircut, which falls just below my ears in gentle waves. “Well, Kelsey’s stylist cut it for me. Do you like it?”
“Very Betty Rubble.”
I grin and turn back to face him. He still looks faintly dumbfounded. It’s kind of cute.
“It’ll grow back, professor.” I pat his chest. “I promise.”
“You’re beautiful.” Dean finally breaks out of his stupor and untangles one of his hands from mine. He reaches out to curl a lock of my hair around his forefinger, giving it a gentle tug. “As long as I can still do this, I like it.”
He moves to grasp my waist and guide me away from the few remaining passengers. We edge behind an advertising display sign before Dean lowers his head to mine. He tucks his hands into my hair, angling my head in the exact right way, and captures my lips with his.
It’s a lovely kiss that fills me with pleasure. I spread my hands over his chest, feeling the heat of his body through his shirt, the closeness of him sending shivers clear down to my toes. Our lips fit together seamlessly, that familiar sense of belonging wrapping around us both.
Dean lifts his head, his eyes tender as he spreads his hand gently across my belly.
“How are you?” he asks.
I wind my arms around his neck and rub my cheek against his. “Never better.”
After another few stolen kisses, we hurry to get Dean’s suitcase from baggage claim and drive home, both of us eager to return to the island of us again.
We spent the next few days settling back into our routine and catching up with each other. One afternoon several days after his return, Dean comes out of his office looking rather stunned.
“I just talked to Frances Hunter,” he tells me. “She said she recommended to the board of trustees that I get fast-tracked for tenure.”
“Oh, Dean.” Happiness and pride flood me. “That’s wonderful.”
“She also said the chancellor got a call from a man who’s interested in donating to the new law school building at King’s.”
“Not… not Edward Hamilton.”
“No.” Dean shakes his head. “Justice Richard West from California. Frances wanted to know if I’m related to him.”
It’s enough to make us both realize that maybe some family bonds really are unbreakable.
And so things settle into place. For the next few weeks, Dean delivers lectures, organizes Jessica Burke’s PhD defense, guides his students’ research, and is as confident and in control as… well, all those powerful kings of legend. He contacts the real-estate agent Nancy about houses on the market and keeps an eye out for potential properties.