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She had a way of gazing at me that made me want to surge toward her, pull her into my arms. Then tilt her face up to mine, and kiss her til till the sky shattered around us.

With an inhale, I pushed Ana’s haunting amber eyes out of my mind and focused on the screen in front of me until I fell into a light sleep.

We landed in Málaga under a blinding Mediterranean sun.

I ushered Christine and Raff through customs and to a desk, where I picked up our rental SUV, a BMW X5.

We soon loaded our bags and Raff and Christine strapped in.

Easing into the driver’s seat, I used the sat nav to navigate the coastal highway toward Mijas, leaving the airport chaos behind us.

The drive revealed flashes of deep blue water in between the whitewashed hillsides baking in the afternoon heat.

Thick groves of olive and orange trees lined the road, their green leaves shimmering in the sun.

‘The air’s different,’ Christine remarked from the passenger side, taking an inhale. ‘Sea salt, pine needles, and wild rosemary.’

‘The scent of bliss. Raff, check out those ridges,’ I grunted, resting one arm on the window frame. ‘The mountains run straight down into the ocean here. It’s magnificent.’

‘Are those paragliders, Dad?’ Raff asked, delighted, as we spotted colored sails that seemed to fall off the edge of the steep limestone cliffs.

‘Looks like it, pal.’

‘Ooh, maybe I can get a shot of them on my drone-cam.’

‘We’ll see about that.’

Raff was a bundle of excitement, and as the ocean opened up before us in a vast expanse of shimmering turquoise, he let out a whoop.

‘Can we go down to the water as soon as we unpack?’ my son asked, leaning forward between the two front seats. ‘Those beaches are wild.’

‘Patience, pal,’ I said, catching his eye in the rearview mirror as I turned the wheel. ‘Let’s get to the to the house first.’

We drove through La Cala de Mijas, a delightful coastal town midway between Fuengirola and Marbella on the Costa del Sol.

‘I’m liking the friendly village vibe and beach,’ I told my companions as we wound past whitewashed facades fronting the sea.

In time, we pulled up to a set of security gates.

‘This is it, folks,’ I murmured, punching the codes the letting agency sent me into the keypad.

The wrought-iron gateway swung open, and we drove down a short private road, revealing a stunning modern villa with touches of traditional hacienda style, with purple flowers and vines draped over the its archways.

Raff whistled.

‘Look at the size of this place, Dad,’ he said, pressing his face against the side window glass. ‘Is all of it ours?’

‘Every square inch of it, buddy,’ I replied, shifting the vehicle into park on the gravel driveway. ‘Welcome to Villa de Alegría. Grab your gear from the car and go claim your bedroom.’

Christine unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her tote from the floorboard.

‘Deacon, this is beautiful. I’m already eyeing a terrace room with the coastal view myself.’

‘You might need to fight Raff for it,’ I chuckled, circling to the rear of the SUV. ‘There are several to choose from but leave the primary for me.’

I lifted our bags from the trunk and handed them to Christine and my son, who was beyond eager to get inside.

‘Hurry, Dad,’ he muttered as I strolled to the front door.