He gathers me into his arms, strong as steel and warm as sunlight. I press my face against his chest, filled with a lovely sensation of coming home to the man whose heart I will keep forever safe. The man who understands all my strengths and flaws, who warms me from the inside out, who knows how to silence the noise of the world so all we can hear is us.
My husband and I will always be two people living one life of perfect imperfection. We’ll always live here, in the place of Liv and Dean, where problems are solved and locks are opened. A place of infinite love, persistence, tenderness, passion, acceptance, and forgiveness. A place where wishes are granted, dreams come true, and stories have happy endings—not because of fate or magic, but because we love each other so hard and so well.
EPILOGUE
ink and red hearts, adhesive cupcakes, and smiling snowmen plaster the windows of the shops lining Avalon Street. Our curtains frame a view of white-capped mountains and skaters gliding across the ice-covered surface of the lake. Children walk with their parents along the street, stopping to play in the snow piled at the curbs. University students trundle past with backpacks slung over their shoulders and paper cups of coffee clutched in their hands.
Dean comes out of his office, looking deliciously rumpled in faded jeans and a King’s University sweatshirt, his hair all disheveled and his jaw covered with that day-old stubble that I always find so sexy.
His eyes warm with affection as he approaches me. He kisses my forehead as his hand comes to rest gently on the five-day-old baby sleeping in my arms.
“Want me to put him in the bassinet?” Dean whispers.
Since I need to use the bathroom, I nod and shift Nicholas’s weight, soft and cuddly as a bird in a nest of cotton. Dean moves to take Nicholas from me, cradling the bundle of blankets and baby close to his chest.
My heart fills with a wild tenderness as I look at them, my husband and our son, both dark-haired and dark-eyed, already knowing that they are the best of friends. A now-familiar expression of wonder crosses Dean’s face as he looks at Nicholas, then he returns to his office where the baby’s bassinet is set up right beside his desk.
After using the bathroom, I head into the kitchen to make a pot of tea.
“Go sit down.” Dean comes up behind me, giving me a gentle pat on the rear. “I’ll get it.”
I return to my overstuffed chair beside the window, and Dean soon comes in with the tea and a plate of the Wonderland Café’s popular Home, Heart, and Courage cookies, which he sets on a table beside me.
“Anything else you need?” he asks.
I reach up to squeeze his hand. “Just you.”
“You always have me.” He rests one hand along the back of my chair and bends to press his mouth against mine. I lean in for a longer kiss, feeling that melted-honey sensation slide through my blood.
“I picked something up for you earlier.” Dean moves away from me, his palm lingering against my cheek.
He goes into the bedroom and returns with a big, white box topped with a red bow. He places the box on my lap and sits on the coffee table across from me.
I tug the lid off the box and separate the red tissue paper inside. I run my hand over a swath of thick material. As Dean takes the cloth out and unfolds it, my breath catches in my throat.
“A quilt?” I ask. “You got me a new quilt?”
“The Wickham sisters and I have been conspiring about it for months,” he tells me. “Florence’s sister Ruth is a quilt-maker, and when I told her what I wanted, she got right to work. She just finished it this morning. She said it’s called an heirloom memory quilt.”
I can only stare at the quilt. Each square is beautifully sewn with images and words that encompass my life.
The Wonderland Café sign, the University of Wisconsin logo, library call numbers, a book stitched with the title A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Alice in Wonderland, the yellow brick road. A hot-air balloon, the Jitter Beans coffeehouse sign, a peace lily, apple pie, the Eiffel Tower, a patch from Dean’s old San Francisco Giants T-shirt, a baby wearing a blue cap, ruby slippers, a cameo silhouette, the Butterfly House, a knight on horseback. And around the border, twelve squares stitched with twelve oak trees.
“Oh, Dean.”
“Not bad, huh?” He looks pleased.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you, Liv.” He slides his hand through my hair, tucking a lock behind my ear. “More than anything. More than life.”
He’s a blur through my tears, but when I wipe my eyes, I see him watching me with a depth of emotion I can’t even begin to fathom. I know because I feel it too, a million colors that fill my heart to overflowing.
I gesture for Dean to sit in the chair with me. He does, gently lifting me onto his lap. I press my face to his chest and sink into the warmth of him. He tightens his arms around me, surrounding me with his ever-present strength and devotion that will see us through anything.
Happy. That’s what all the colors distill into. I am so happy.