Unlocking Her Boss's Heart(53)

‘Really?’ Her throat was so tense with emotion she could hardly form the word.

‘Yes. I love you, Cara.’

And she knew from the look on his face that he meant every word. He’d never given up anything of an emotional nature lightly and she understood what a superhuman effort it must have taken for him to come here and say all that to her.

Reaching out a hand, she ran her fingers across his cheek, desperate to smooth away any fears he might have. ‘I love you, too.’

He closed his eyes and breathed out hard in relief before opening them again, looking more at peace than she’d ever seen him before. Lifting his own hand, he slid his fingers into her hair and drew her towards him, pressing his mouth to hers and kissing her long and hard.

She felt it right down to her toes.

Drawing away for a moment, he touched his forehead to hers and whispered, ‘You make me so happy.’

And then, once again, there was no more talking. Just passion and joy and excitement for their bright new future together.





EPILOGUE

One year later

THE HOUSE THEY’D chosen to buy together was just the sort of place Cara had dreamed of owning during her romantic but practical twenties. It wasn’t as grand or impressive as the house in South Kensington, but it felt exactly right for the two of them. And perhaps for any future family that chose to come along.

Not that having children was on the cards right now. Max was focusing hard on maintaining the expansion of his Management Solutions business, which had been flying ever since the Irish company awarded him their contract, and Cara was happy in her new position as Executive Assistant to the CEO of the company she’d joined in the City. But they’d talked about the possibility of it happening in the near future and had both agreed it was something they wanted.

Life was good. And so was their relationship.

After worrying for the first few months that, despite his assurances to the contrary, Max might still be in the grip of grief and that they had some struggles ahead of them, her fears had been assuaged as their partnership flourished and grew into something so strong and authentic she could barely breathe with happiness some days.

Max’s anger had faded but his fierceness remained, which she now experienced as both a protective and supportive force in her life. Being a party to his sad past had taught her to count her blessings, and she did. Every single day.

Arriving home late after enjoying a quick Friday night drink with her colleagues, she let herself into their golden-bricked Victorian town house—which they’d chosen for the views of Victoria Park and its close location to the thriving bustle and buzz of Columbia Road with its weekly flower market and kitschy independent furniture shops—and stopped dead in the doorway, staring down at the floor.

It was covered in flowers, of all colours and varieties. Frowning at them in bewilderment, she realised they were arranged into the shape of a sweeping arrow pointing towards the living room.

‘Max? I’m home. What’s going on? It looks like spring has exploded in our hallway!’

Tiptoeing carefully over the flowers so as not to crush too many of them, she made her way towards the living room and peered nervously through the doorway, her heart skittering at the mystery of it.

What she saw inside took her breath away.

Every surface was covered in vibrantly coloured bouquets of spring flowers, displayed in all manner of receptacles: from antique vases to the measuring jug she used to make her porridge in the mornings. Even the light fitting had a large cutting of honeysuckle spiralling down from it, its sweet fragrance permeating the air. It reminded her of their first night together after Jack’s wedding. Which quickly led her to memories of all the wonderful nights that had come after it, where she’d lain in Max’s arms, breathing in the scent of his skin, barely able to believe how loved and cherished she felt.

And she was loved, as Max constantly reminded her, and her support and love for him had enabled him to finally say goodbye to Jemima and the past that had kept him ensnared for so long.

She’d unlocked his heart.

She was the key, he’d told her as he carried her, giggling, over the threshold into their house six months ago.

She’d finally found her home.

Their home.

He was standing next to the rose-strewn piano in the bay, looking at her with the same expression of fierce love and desire that always made her blood rush with heat.

‘Hello, beautiful, did you have a good night?’ he asked, walking towards where she stood, his smile bringing a mesmerising twinkle to his eyes.

‘I did, thank you.’ She swept a hand around the room, unable to stop herself from blurting, ‘Max, what is this?’