With the family’s travel documents in her hand, Cara pushes a trolley piled high with suitcases towards the check-in desk. Heathrow is busy and the departures hall resounds to excited chatter and laughter. She can’t believe she’s actually doing this, but she has made up her mind. As Greg has requested, they will embrace all he has to offer and consider making a life for themselves in the States. She glances across at her children. Bethany smiles at her. Holding hands, Sky and Toby amuse themselves by circling each other. She found it almost impossible to explain her decision to the children, but with Bethany moving up to secondary school next term, if ever there was a right time to consider a change of life it is now. Sky was more anxious about leaving Barnaby behind, but she promised that if they decide to settle in America he will be flown out. Cara looks up at the departures board. No boarding gate number allocated to their flight yet.
*
Oliver frantically searches the crowd. The journey was taxing and he’s taken several risks to get here in time. His stunt bike-riding skills have been put to the test and, once arriving at Heathrow, he as good as abandoned the motorbike without giving much thought to its security. If it’s nicked so be it. After all, it’s only a possession and one that can easily be replaced. This, on the other hand, is the most important moment of his life and something that is irreplaceable. As he roared up the M5, only just outrunning the ‘grey mist’ that greedily snatched at his heels, he screamed, ‘Not now. Back off. You will not claim me now!’ With his thoughts turning ever darker, he knew he wasn’t going to make it in time. Would Cara be flying Upper Class? If so, she would enter by a difference entrance. That could make all the difference in the world to his timing. Think! If Cara was paying for the tickets she would probably fly economy, but if Greg was paying? What would he be prepared to spend on them? Attempting to get inside Greg Latimer-Jones’ head, Oliver grimaced with concentration. Economy. He’d pay for economy tickets. However much he wanted to impress Cara, Greg would never fork out on Upper Class tickets for all her family. By this point, he would believe he’d shown her enough to secure her loyalty. But now, searching the departures hall, Oliver wonders if he’s miscalculated the man. He looks for the Virgin Atlantic check-in desks and, setting off in their direction, scans the crowd, ignoring the numerous double-takes and amazed faces turning in his direction.
*
‘Not long now,’ Cara says to her children as they move further up the queue.
‘I’m thirsty,’ says Sky.
‘Once the bags are checked in we’ll go through to the departures lounge,’ explains Cara. ‘I’ll buy you a drink then. You OK, Beth?’
‘I’m OK, Mum,’ Bethany replies with a smile.
So grown-up, thinks Cara. She turns back to face the front of the queue and doesn’t see her daughter’s eyes open wide in surprise.
Oliver approaches the little family that so completely captured his heart two summers before. He winks at the young girl, now a tender, budding beauty, and puts a finger to his lips. He glances at Sky, a breaker of hearts in the making if ever there was one, and then his gaze falls upon the little boy holding firmly onto his half-brother’s hands. Oliver’s heart falters. He studies his son carefully, recognising the unruly mop of dark hair and the wayward kink in the boy’s fringe. However hard he tries, and whatever he does – especially if his hair grows long – that kink always reappears. And the look in the little boy’s blue eyes is a look that he is entirely familiar with.
Cara nudges the trolley forwards, heavy with suitcases. Nearly there… only one couple between them and check-in.
‘Cara,’ Oliver says softly.
A shiver runs up Cara’s spine. She’d recognise the deep timbre of his voice anywhere. But, surely she’s imagining it? Slowly, she turns.
Oliver searches her face. No visible response. The glazed look is in place; her emotions firmly locked behind a thick layer of impenetrable glass.
‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘I do. We do. We are,’ she says, as the black leathers, biker boots and black helmet in his hand trigger a memory. It was him at the cove that day! Hesitantly, she meets his gaze.
‘But why? Your life is here! You don’t need anyone else to make you a success,’ Oliver says.
Behind her, the ground hostess clears her throat and Cara turns. There is now no one between her and check-in.
Oliver catches hold of Cara’s hand. The electricity between them is still there.
‘I love you, Cara,’ he says, gazing into her eyes. ‘I know I haven’t been around for you, but I won’t give up easily. Leaving is my last option. If you continue to push me away I will walk away knowing I gave it my all.’
Cara catches her breath. She cannot allow him to undermine her decision now. After all, what can he offer?
Suddenly Oliver understands. Everything that has gone before has led to this day and he has so much to lose. Taking a deep breath, he gets down on one knee and says, ‘Cara, my beautiful golden girl, love of my life, will you do me the honour of being my wife?’
With his eyes fixed on Cara and his heart hammering rapidly against his ribs, Oliver thinks he hears a collective intake of breath from around the hall. She is still shrouded in a thin veneer of sophistication but as he gazes into Cara’s dark brown eyes a crack appears in the aloof, cold stare directed at him.
‘But how?’ she asks in not much more than a whisper.
‘Because I love you. I always have… even before we met.’
‘But what of your wife?’ A small frown furrows her brow and Oliver longs to kiss it away.
‘Don’t worry about Deanna. I will put things right, as I should have done two years ago.’
Cara gazes down at the beautiful man on his knee in front of her. She knows how much he protects his family’s privacy; she can only imagine what this public display is taking from him.
‘Cara, you are my everything,’ Oliver says. ‘There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you.’
Saturday, late afternoon – Heathrow. The noise should be deafening but you could hear a pin drop.
Shifting uncomfortably on his knee and with a wry smile on his face, Oliver says, ‘I don’t mean to hurry you but I’m not as young as I used to be. If I don’t get up soon I fear I may never move from this position again.’
A small smile appears on Cara’s lips. Mesmerised, Oliver watches as her naturally beautiful, free spirit fights its way through the impenetrable glass wall that has kept it a prisoner for so long. A tear trickles down the side of her face and, incapable of speech, Cara nods.
Oliver gets to his feet. Taking her in his arms, he kisses her deeply. She’s soft and yielding, and her body moulds beautifully into his. As Cara’s healing light enters his soul, Oliver’s angst and desperation lift from his heart. Home… at last.
He’s more muscular than she remembers and his body is taut with a coiled power that makes heat curl low in her belly. The rasp of his stubble makes her head swim and blood courses faster and faster through her veins; sensations she’s not experienced for so very long. He’s warm and there’s something undeniably masculine that makes her shiver.
Over their kiss, Oliver and Cara become aware of a repeating sound. Reluctantly, they draw apart. Holding each other close, as if frightened they may lose each other again, they look quizzically at each other. Wolf whistles above the noise make them leave their bubble and glance outwards. A number of people have gathered, and they cheer and clap, aware of witnessing something momentously wonderful taking place today.
The ground hostess clears her throat again. ‘Excuse me, but will you be wanting your seats?’
Oliver gazes down at his beautiful girl. ‘Will you?’
‘No,’ she sighs, gazing back at him. It was such a stupid idea; how did she think it would ever work with Greg? She could weep with relief.
‘I believe that’s a no,’ Oliver says to the hostess with a wide smile. He turns to the children. ‘Beth and Sky, I promise to love and protect you for the rest of your lives. I hope you will agree to me being your dad.’
With a wise, beaming smile, Bethany nods. Sky bounces Toby’s hands up and down, chanting, ‘We’ve got a dad again! We’ve got a dad again!’ Catching the excitement in his older half-brother’s voice, the little boy giggles.
A loud cheer goes up from the crowd and several cameras flash, but Oliver couldn’t care less. Let the photos find their way into the national press. In fact, he wants to shout his love from the rooftops! Gazing deeply into Cara’s dark brown eyes, he watches the emerald green and golden lights dancing within and, once again, has the feeling of being drawn into their hidden depths. Without hesitation, Oliver dives straight in.