Taylor walked outside and leaned his hands on the ledge. “I don’t think I ever appreciated California until I lived here.”

“Laguna is beautiful; more than I could have ever dreamed,” she said, opening her eyes to see her husband haloed in the last of the day’s rays. Her breath stopped in her chest, just short of release upon seeing how stunning he was as if it were the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him. This time, he might not have been wearing a suit. He had changed clothes already, but he was just as handsome as he was standing in the middle of that party on a cold winter’s evening.

He offered her a hand up and she happily accepted, landing firmly in his arms. He asked, “I missed you today. How are you?”

“Gloriously happy.”

“Are we allowed that much happiness in one lifetime?”

“I sure hope so or I’m going to burn through it fast.”

He chuckled, understanding exactly what gloriously happy felt like, and kissed her head. Taylor’s hands trembled less on the West Coast though he still aged. Maybe it was the weather or the laid-back lifestyle they chose to live. He had very strong suspicions it was the little brunette that gave him something to hold on to, something worth fighting for. He shared his bed, his house, and his life with her and it all became…

Their bed.

Their house.

Their life together.

And they cherished every minute.

She led him by the hand inside the house; the house he’d designed and had built for her. One hundred percent of the guilt money had been given away to various domestic abuse and child abuse charities, but the money received from her family for her “troubles” more than paid for the beautiful home. It felt like salvation—all light and sunshine, clean lines like he liked, bright colors like she loved, except for pink. She hated pink bedrooms. This house was Hazel and Jude inside and out. “My mother arrives tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ve hired a car to pick her up. She’ll meet us there. Be prepared. She sounds excited.”

“Beats the alternative,” she joked, and walked into the kitchen ready to bake him something. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m still stuffed from the pancakes and bacon.” Jude grinned, comforted by his satisfied smile when he added, “You’re going to make me fat.”

“Then we’ll be even,” she replied, rubbing her very round belly.

He came around and couldn’t resist, like any other time he was with her. He rubbed the baby bump and kissed his wife. “I still can’t believe we’re having a baby. I can’t believe you’d want to have a baby with me.”

“The whole of you isn’t Parkinson’s, Hazel.”

“When I die—”

“If you leave me, leave this earth—”

“It would never be by choice or without a fight. You know I’ll fight, right?”

“I know you will, with all you have. I know you will.”

They walked to the couch and sat down to watch the sun dip below the horizon. She was curled into his side and he had his arm wrapped around her. They didn’t often talk about his disease, but they didn’t deny it either. It was just a part of him. “If you should go,” she started again, “this baby will always keep you close to me, a gift I couldn’t have had without you. One of the many gifts I didn’t experience until I met you.”

“Like the disease, your stepfather, your aunt, and Bleekman’s tried to destroy what was good. But once you were freed from them, you grew. You shone. You became the person you were always meant to be.”

“After all we’ve been through, it only took a whole new life to create one.”

He smiled, liking her perspective on things. “Yep, a whole new life.”

She yawned and stretched her legs out. Taylor sat up, and said, “You should get some rest. We have to leave early in the morning.”

“What time?”

“Six to make it to the hospital on time. You’re supposed to be induced at eight.”

Taylor couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment. There were so many great ones they had shared throughout the last three years. But he had a feeling it was the night his parents threw that party one January, when he’d watched Jude twirl away from him while he’d stood there waiting for her to return. As he’d watched the petite little brunette in the chartreuse dress, deep down he’d felt… no, he’d known he’d follow her anywhere.

Tonight, it would be to their bedroom so he could love on her and she could make him feel invincible.

Tomorrow, it would be to the hospital to meet the child he never thought he’d meet.

But the day after that, he’d go buy the love of his life—whether it be a long or short life—mocha chocolate-chip ice cream, just because she likes it and he wants to see her smile.

Hazel, with the remote in hand, switched on the music. Through the speakers, Otis Redding began crooning, “Try A Little Tenderness,” and Hazel took her hand, pulling her to her feet. He started walking away from the couch, but Jude stopped him and smiled with the most mischievous glint in her blue-green eyes. Taking both of his hands in hers, she asked, “Wanna dance with me?” She wiggled her hips back and forth to the beat, pursing her lips and hoping to entice.

Taylor laughed, loving this life too much to leave it anytime soon. He spun his sundress-wearing beauty out and then delicately whipped her back in, bringing their bodies together, their breath quickening and seduction growing. He dipped her and she squealed in pure delight. But with a solid hold on her, he kept her there, his eyes roaming over her body.

Jude found his gaze unhurried and comforting. When his lips were joined to hers, one breath shared between them, he said, “Let’s go.”

Quirking an eyebrow, she hoped they were heading into the bedroom, but asked just in case, “Are we going anywhere in particular?”

With the smile that always melted her heart—and her panties—he kissed her, and then replied, “The world is our rainbow, Jude.”

Dear Readers, I put my heart and all my emotions into this book. It tore me up during the writing process and then healed me through the story. It was a great honor to have shared time with these characters and to share them with you.

Dearest Adriana, Corinne, Danielle, Flavia, Heather, Irene, Jessie, Kellie, Laura, Lisa, Lynsey, Marion, Marla, Mary, Michelle, Ruth, and Sonia, I treasure our friendship so much. You touch my heart, make me smile, support me, encourage me, and inspire me daily. Thank you and Love You!

To my awesome FYW girls—You Rock! Now go write!

Dear Mom and Sis, thank you for always being my cheerleader, even when I write sexy scenes. Hehe

Dear Jennifer and Kerri, thank you for a life full of fun times and great chats. Love ya!

To my family and friends who are always there for me, supporting me as a friend and an author, I say thank you. It means more to me than you will ever know.

Love,

S.

Always interested in the arts, S. L. Scott, grew up painting, writing poetry and short stories, and wiling her days away lost in a good book and the movies.

With a degree in Journalism, she continued her love of the written word by reading American authors like Salinger and Fitzgerald. She was intrigued by their flawed characters living in picture perfect worlds, but could still debate that the worlds those characters lived in were actually the flawed ones. This dynamic of leaving the reader invested in the words, inspired Scott to start writing with emotion while interjecting an underlying passion into her own stories.