Early Tuesday morning, I bundle a sleepy Lillian and our two duffels into my car. Before heading north to the private airport in Carlsbad, I take a slow detour past Hemlock. The glass and steel facade glistens in the dawn light, proud and confident. An evergreen flourishing in the desert, armored against the blazing sun.

Though I didn’t attend the celebratory dinner hosted by Alex last night, I relished Matthew’s numerous text messages about the opening. Thanks to an aggressive marketing and incentive campaign, the restaurant was packed for a solid four hours. Besides a few hiccups with the kitchen, first impressions were as good as they get.

I haven’t failed yet, Ms. Sands.

For the first time since the charity gala, I feel more peace than anguish, more hope than despair. Maybe it’s the quality of the light, forgiving and piercing at once. Or that in the last month, I’ve accessed a wellspring of strength I hadn’t known was inside me.

I’ll never hear or touch my real father, but I’ve still learned from him. Because of his journals, his life—and Margaret’s lessons, always—I know that loving someone is never a mistake.

Alexander Hughes dug a hole in my damaged heart and healed it from the inside. He filled me with his voice and touch, his wit and magnetism, his intelligence and stubbornness. But our story, barely begun, is finished. A journal of blank pages. And I’m okay. Or, at least, I will be. Every day is a little easier. Someday, I think, I’ll have room for another love.

“Coffee,” whines Lillian.

I put the car in gear.

Goodbye, Alex.

The drive north is mostly against the morning commuter flow, and we make it to Carlsbad in just under thirty minutes. Lillian, now caffeinated, tells me where to park and speculates animatedly about our upcoming plane ride. I admonish her again for the frivolous waste of money, but can’t quite squash my own excitement. It isn’t every day you get to fly with your best friend, by private jet, to meet your aunt for the first time.

The ticketing process is fast and easy, our baggage whisked away. There’s a handful of other people in the airport, which is tiny, but contemporary and clean. Because of our apparent status, a smiling woman appears, shakes our hands like we’re famous, and leads us straight out a small gate onto the sun-flooded tarmac. A sleek white jet awaits us, stairs down and beckoning.

“Go right in, ladies. Your captain and attendant are already aboard.”

Lillian squeals and grabs my hand, tugging me forward. My palms are damp with nerves. “Holy shit, Lil,” I say, gazing up in awe. “This is insane. You have to let me pay you back.”

She giggles. “Don’t worry about it.”

We bound up the stairs and into the hushed interior. I halt just inside and shamelessly gape while Lillian collapses onto a couch of creamy leather.

“Unreal,” I whisper, gazing at the crisp, modern lines of furniture. Beyond the couch is a dining table/office space, while opposite is a series of six reclining chairs. The color scheme is elegant and masculine. It reminds me, unfortunately, of Alex.

Lillian laughs delightedly. “It’s like a living room inside a plane. Look at the size of that TV!” Finally remembering how to walk, I wander forward. There’s a moderately sized, fully stocked kitchen and past it, a large bathroom.

“Thebes, go see if there’s a bedroom. I’ve always wanted to nap in a real bed at thirty-thousand feet.”

I roll my eyes, but keep walking. The door at the end of the corridor opens at my touch. “Oh, there’s a bedroom,” I say, but softly, as I’m occupied with salivating. Turning back toward the front, I begin, “I might fight you for—” I stall at the sight of an empty couch. Several quick steps present me with a view of an empty cabin. “Lillian?”

Mechanics whine and natural sunlight fades as the hatch closes. My palms tingle. A tall, familiar figure steps out from the space behind the cockpit.

My throat almost closed, I rasp, “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

Alex takes a step toward me and I see the single red rose in his hand. Somehow, I know it has exactly seven petals. The plane gives a gentle jerk. I sway and grab the back of the nearest chair, my eyes flashing to the windows.

“We’re moving.” Panic shoots through me. My gaze flies from the runway to the rose, then up to Alex’s face. “What is this? What did you do with Lillian?”

His eyes crinkle with humor. “Nothing, Thea. It’s my plane. She helped me get you here.” A brow cocks. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m kidnapping you in a metal tube and taking you into the sky so you can’t run away. Don’t worry, we’re still going to Colorado.”

I stare at the red rose. My lungs compress. I can’t breathe. A wave of cold surges down my spine and I break into a sweat. I whisper, “I can’t… I can’t do this again with you.”

He strides across the cabin. The rose is tossed aside as he gently maneuvers me onto the couch. He sits beside me, expression intent as he fastens a seatbelt around my hips. When he’s done, he cups my face with his hands.

I flinch.

His jaw tenses, but his hands stay, thumbs brushing lightly over my cheeks. I have no defenses against the golden flecks in his eyes, which dance in the light slanting through a nearby window. His heat and scent permeate my senses.

Against the smooth column of his throat, I can clearly see the furious pounding of his heart. In response, my own heart awakens, unfurling with a painful stretch.

“I can’t let you walk away,” he says softly. “Not without first hearing me out.”

I’m falling.

Falling.

“Alex—”

“Please,” he says weakly. He drops to his knees before me, parting my jean-clad legs to nestle close. My pulse circles low at his proximity. I clench my teeth against the need to pull him even closer.

Staring into his tortured eyes, my resistance breaks. I nod.

His fingers clench on my thighs. “That night in the limo,” he begins hoarsely, “I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. It was the worst two hours of my life. Seeing you sitting so close, but so far away. The pain you couldn’t hide from me…” I stiffen but he shakes his head sharply. “Please, let me finish?”

I blink and breathe, and finally nod.

“When our eyes met for the first time, it was like a light went on inside me. You’re my flash. My soul-stealing camera flash. You’re so damned smart, so beautiful and funny and real. You’re everything I ever dreamed of finding in a woman. And I failed you. I failed myself. All I could think about was how I’d hurt you before—and the power you had to hurt me. It was foolish and selfish. Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life.”

His thumbs are still grazing my cheeks, damp now with tears. I’m not falling anymore. I’m floating, weightless with hope.

“There’s more,” he says softly. “From the moment we met, I’ve been trying to catch my breath. You overwhelmed me. Astounded me. In Los Angeles, when I started to say I wanted to fall in love with you, I was lying. I already fell, probably the second I saw you. Thea, I love you. I love you so fucking much I haven’t been able to sleep, eat, or think clearly for two weeks.”

Time slows. Sparkling warmth expands in my chest. I can feel each beat of my heart as its pace quickens. Blood rushes in my ears. I want to believe…

“Say that last bit again,” I whisper.

His gaze roams my face, memorizing. Claiming. “I love you. I can’t be apart from you. I’m looking for houses near Sunset Cliffs. Lillian said you love it there. Take me back, Thea. I need you. I need Sunday afternoons daydreaming with you. I need to watch you sleep and kiss you every time you wake up. I need your laughter and frowns and quotes. I love you, I love—”

Laughter surges through my tears. “Stop, Alex. I love you, too. Kiss me.”

He surges into my open arms. The plane rumbles and stills, and a cheery voice fills the cabin.

“Mr. Hughes, we’re ready for takeoff.”