“House of God,” he said, grinning. “I loved this book.”
“Hilarious, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
The cuckoo clock on the wall between the kitchen and the living room chimed. Dylan’s gaze darted toward it just as the shutters on the bird’s nest opened and the cuckoo bird popped out to chirp off the time.
Dylan’s expression opened in awe. He laid the book on the shelf, forgotten, as all his attention focused on the clock. He moved toward it, lifted his hand to trace the texture of the hand-carved wood.
The surprise and joy on his face softened into something more poignant, more painful. “You kept it.”
They’d bought the clock on their honeymoon in Austria. It reminded Emma of their relationship, maybe even more now than when they’d bought it. An entity of beauty honed from a shapeless hunk of wood. A true work of art embodying all the imperfections of anything handcrafted. She couldn’t count the times she’d stared at that clock, wondering where Dylan was and whether or not he was okay. Remembering what they’d once had, and hoping he still thought of her.
Now he was standing in her living room, wanting another chance. Something she would have given a limb to have at one time.
“God, what a trip,” he murmured, staring at the clock. “Still the very best week of my life.”
Hers too. But she was too aware of how completely their lives had veered away from that path. They’d been apart now longer than they’d ever been together. They were more individuals than they were a couple. But she couldn’t deny their time together had marked her for life. This time with him only confirmed that she would always love him. And she knew from experience that love would keep her from ever having a relationship like that again, no matter how amazing the man.
“We should go,” she said. “We’re already running late.”
His gaze lingered on the clock for another long moment before he reluctantly pulled his gaze away and approached Emma. When she reached for the door, Dylan took her arms and slid his hands up to her shoulders, then down again, threading their fingers. The look in his eyes was both heartrending and terrifying. So much love. No other man had ever looked at her the way Dylan did. No other man had ever made her feel a tenth of what Dylan did.
Trips overseas are a dime a dozen, the nagging voice in her head whispered. Dylan is one in a million.
He pulled their joined hands behind him, bringing their bodies flush. He was warm and strong. Just the feel of him made her head light and her body loose. He dipped his head and kissed her. The scruff of his unshaved beard added dimension to the gentle press of his lips.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “We can have that again. I’m going to prove it to you.”
She was leaning toward staying home and giving him the chance to do just that. Still, she couldn’t ignore her lifelong dreams tugging at her to go. He’d lived his dreams. She should have the chance to live hers. But maybe that didn’t have to happen right now.
Emma pushed up on her toes and kissed him again. “We should go.”
On the way to the car, Dylan asked, “Do you still have our wedding photos?”
She pictured the album tucked away in the back of a closet where she’d purposely buried it so she had to do major reorganizing to get to it. “I do.”
He opened the passenger’s door for her. “Can I have one for my wallet?”
She looked at him. Really looked at him. He had an incredible way of touching her so deeply with such little effort. “Of course.”
He looked like he was thinking about kissing her again, so Emma slid into the passenger's seat before he could.
Once they pulled away from the curb, she angled in her seat to look at him. “So, my dad.”
Dylan winced. “Yeah. That was rough.”
/> “I can only imagine. How did that go, exactly?”
“He got the first hour and forty-five minutes. I got the last fifteen.”
Emma smiled. “I doubt that.”
“Your dad may normally be a stoic guy, but he had eight years of pent-up words for me.”
She didn’t need to ask what her father said. She’d heard it all during the years she lived with her parents upon return. When her parents would talk late into the night, when they thought she was asleep. And she didn’t have to ask what Dylan told her father, because she was sure it was very similar to what he’d told her.
“So what are we celebrating?” she asked.