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“Ask what?” My eyes drop to the floor, watching his feet as we step off the plane and enter the breezeway.
“For my number. Or is that not how kids do it these days?”
“Kids? How old are you?” My head snaps up as we step to the side and out of the way of the other passengers trying to deboard the plane.
“Old enough to know that getting involved with you would change my life forever, but not old enough not to do it.” He leans forward and brushes a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Hope to see you soon, love.”
Love? Has he lost his damn mind?
Unsure of how to respond, I nod and watch him disappear into the group of passengers exiting the plane before looking down at the small business card in my hand. It has a compass like the one on his arm embossed on it with the name Callen Mackenzie Tours and the contact information printed below it.
I may not have time for love, but a tour guide doesn’t sound like a bad idea.
CHAPTERTWO
CALLEN
When I got on a plane this morning in New York after delivering a boat to my friend Clayton, I didn’t know I was meeting my future wife. I was mesmerized by her the moment I sat down. Her nose stuck in a book and golden-blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun on the top of her head. She didn’t give me the time of day during the entire flight, instead choosing to listen to the lady near the window go on and on about her cats.
As soon as I get into my car, I pick up the phone to call Clayton, one of my oldest friends from college and the main reason I was on the plane. Although I wasn’t entirely sure why a tech billionaire stationed in Toronto, Canada, would want a cabin cruiser set up for sea travel, I made my way there with no questions asked. He paid a pretty penny for it too, so it was a win-win for me. Who cares whether he uses it or not?
The phone rings a few times before I hang up and dial again. I need to tell someone about this revelation before I explode. Just as I’m about to give up and call a third time, someone answers.
“I found her!” I shout into the phone as I throw my car in park, turn it off, and pull out the key.
“You were on a plane for the past seven hours. I highly doubt that’s long enough to get to know someone well enough to want to marry them.”
“I don’t know what it is about Ava, but I knew the moment I sat down next to her that she was going to be my wife.”
Ava. Just thinking her name sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine and causes my cock to harden behind my zipper. There doesn’t seem to be anything fake about her, unlike most women who regularly throw themselves at me. Ever since Rebecca passed away four years ago, I’ve been traveling the world like we always planned. Searching for the spark that’s been missing from my life.
Rebecca and I were married as soon as I graduated from college, and I started my business from the ground up, hoping to make a life for the two of us. I worked myself to the bone, but suddenly, everything I worked for didn’t matter. On her deathbed, Rebecca made me promise to live life and not work so hard to ensure everything was perfect.
As soon as Ava flashed me a bright smile, my heart belonged to her. The spark that’s been missing since Rebecca died is burning brightly, and I refuse to let it go out again. It’s as if everything I didn’t know I was missing is wrapped up in her.
Clayton’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Does this girl have a last name?”
I push open the door and pop the boot, heading to the back of the car to retrieve my suitcase.
“I’m sure she does, but that doesn’t matter. It’s going to be Mackenzie soon enough,” I deadpan, knowing what Clayton is thinking. “I don’t want to hear a damn thing.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he chuckles. “I just worry that you are jumping headfirst into something without thinking it through.”
“Pot, meet kettle.” I shake my head as I open the front door and step inside.
I purchased this five-bedroom semi-detached villa in Newington a few months ago, wanting to have a place to call my own after all these years. Traveling around the world has its perks, but there is nothing like coming home to your own place occasionally.
“It’s not the same thing.”
I shake my head as if he can see me as I pull my bag into the living room and take a seat on the couch. “You didn’t ask Pearl to marry you a few weeks after meeting her again?”
“But—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“And you hadn’t seen her since you graduated high school. How many years was that again?”
“I just don’t want to see you hurting like that again,” Clayton groans, uncomfortable with the show of feelings.
Clayton was there to help me piece my life back together after Rebecca died. He helped me sell off anything that wasn’t important and find my footing in the world while I put the pieces of my heart back together. He’s stood by my side with every decision I’ve made—both good and bad—and I’ll never be able to thank him for it. But some absolutes in life will happen, no matter what anyone says. And me being with Ava is one of them.
