“How are you feeling?” I asked. Logan stood and walked to us. He lifted Hunter into his arms and kissed my forehead.

“Go on, Lark, go see your baby sister.”

A sister. I had a sister. I walked to Saffron and kissed her forehead, my eyes falling on my baby sister. Her eyes were just like Saffron's, a beautiful turquoise, and the peach fuzz of hair was chestnut-brown. I couldn't help the smile, or the chuckle, which earned me a look from Saffron.

“You're going to have your own mini-me.”

This made her laugh as she looked behind me to Logan and Hunter.

“She's beautiful, really, really beautiful.” My gaze shifted to my dad. “Have you settled on a name?”

“Yes.” He said, and Saffron added, “Dylan Gwen MacGowan.”

Hearing they named their daughter, my sister, after my mom was the last straw for me. I dropped into the chair behind me, lowered my head to the bed, and let the tears that had been threatening fall.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Lark?”

I turned from my spot at the window in our apartment just off Columbia's campus to see Bastian leaning up against the door jamb and I couldn't help the smile. “Hi.”

“There's somewhere I'd like to take you. Do you have time now?”

“Sure.”

He moved from the door and came to stand just in front of me, his hands moving up my arms to my neck where they lingered, sending little jolts of heat along my skin. “I have a surprise for you.” He said playfully.

“I love surprises.”

His lips caressed mine and the taste of him on my tongue made me sigh. It was a taste I would never ever grow tired of.

***

It had been a couple of months since we returned from Maine to start our fall semester at Columbia. As we drove through the campus, I enjoyed the beauty of it. We were allowed to live off campus as freshmen, because we were engaged. Though our apartment was small, it was filled with my paintings and sketches and a large drafting table for Bastian to work on his designs, many of which were for the house he was planning. There was even a painting from my dad, one of Bastian and me. I remembered the print of my favorite sculpture of David's I had had in my room, but Logan's painting took that honor now. And not just because it so beautifully captured Bastian and me but because it had been done so by my dad.

Caden, who had his GED, had been encouraged by the Wrights to continue his education and so with a few tutoring classes, and Mr. Wright pulling some strings, Caden was enrolled in NYU along with Poppy. They lived on campus in the same dorm and we saw them all the time, which I really liked. Sophia was at Berkeley and from her emails, she was really digging the West Coast.

The Rosses had been quiet, but that was probably only because my dad decided to use the land he bought out from under them to build a satellite office of MacGowan LTD, and with it he would be creating an influx of new jobs. This made both the town council and townspeople really happy. It also meant my dad needed to find himself a place in the area so he could come down from Harrington as frequently as needed to oversee the expansion and if those visits included coming into the city to see Bastian and me, to take us to dinner or a game, well, so be it.

Saffron was not yet traveling; though Dylan was almost five months old, she had reflux and car rides tended to make her vomit even more—airplanes probably wouldn't be any better—but they would both be coming for the show in a few weeks. Yes, I was having my very first art show of my works shown alongside my dad's. When the art world learned that Logan MacGowan and David Cambre were one and the same, the tickets for the show sold out in under a day.

The place Bastian wanted to take me was our high school. It was Saturday, so there were no students as we made our way inside.

“What are we doing here?”

“It's a secret.”

We walked along the deserted halls, Bastian had gotten the janitor to let us in, and I couldn't help the flood of emotions. The sight of my locker brought memories of seeing Bastian leaning up against it waiting for me. Memories of the cafeteria where we shared countless lunches and even the art room, where more than one of my dreams came true, filled my thoughts. But we weren't heading to any of those places. Instead we were going right to our English literature class.

The desks were arranged exactly as they had been when we occupied the room. We walked passed the desk where Bastian had sat that very first day and I couldn't help running my fingers over the top as memories flooded me. He pulled me to my desk and waited for me to sit before he took the desk next to me, and like he had done before, he moved it so we were only inches apart.

“It all started in this room.” He said.

“Seeing you that first day of school, I'll never forget what it felt like to just look at you.” The memory of that day was so fresh in my mind.

“And you, sitting back here trying to be invisible but failing miserably because you were just too damn beautiful to be invisible. But it was the smile, the wicked smile that cracked over your face that sunk me. What was it you were smiling about that first day?”

I held his tender gaze. “I was thinking how Larkspur Ross sounded really good and how you and I would make beautiful children together.”

He said nothing, but affection washed over his face and made my heart flutter. He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a few folded sheets of paper. He unfolded them and placed them on the desks. They were the designs for our house.

“You finished them?”

“I did and I thought it only fitting that you see them here where it all started.”

I looked down at the designs as my fingers traced the lines of his sketch. “It's beautiful. Show me all of it.”

A smile spread over his face before he did just that.

***

I didn't remember a time in my life where I was as nervous as I was the night of my first professional art show. All of my friends and family were there, including Uncle Eddie and the girls.

In the months that followed Aunt Kim's death, the three of them were picking up the pieces together. As expected, it was hard on the girls, but they had such a strong rock in their dad that I knew they would all get through it.

“Lark? Are you ready?” My dad asked. He, like me, was dressed in all black and when I looked up into his face, a face that looked so much like my own, it amazed me I hadn't seen it immediately. In my defense he had resembled Bigfoot during the earlier part of our acquaintance. I exhaled, then smiled, “Yes, I think so.”

My dad and I walked hand in hand out into the spotlight.

***

After the show we all returned to the Wrights' house to await the critics' reviews and I was so nervous I couldn't stand still. The show had been a success and the praise I had received from the guests had been, well, I never expected it, but it was the critics' opinions that could make or break me.

I was outside. The cool evening air helped to calm me as I looked up at the stars. I felt Bastian before I heard him. He slipped his arms around me and pulled me back against him.

“You're amazing. How you see things, how you translate that onto the canvas. I don't give a damn what any critic says, you are incredibly talented.”

Resting my head against his chest, I snuggled more closely to him. “And coming from you, that means the world to me.”

We stood there pleasantly silent, which was interrupted when Bastian said something that surprised me. “Your dad is a good man. I hope I am half as good a man and father as he is.”

Turning to him, I saw the seriousness in his expression and knew he was thinking of his own father.