Ordinary Wonders

Candice’s P.O.V.One year to the day after we landed in Portugal, I woke to the smell of coffee and the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen downstairs. Sunlight streamed through the open balcony doors, warm and lazy, turning the white sheets gold and catching the tiny white lily charm on the chain around my neck. Mantovani’s side of the bed was empty, but the sheets were still warm, and his pillow smelled like him—salt air, clean cotton, and the faint trace of the aftershave he’d started wearing because I said it made him smell like home.I stretched slowly, smiling at the pleasant ache in my muscles from last night. We’d made love on the terrace under the stars again, slow and unhurried, laughing when the breeze made the curtains dance around us, whispering promises between kisses until the moon dipped low and we finally stumbled inside. My husband—God, that word still made my heart skip—had carried me to bed even though I t

Echoes of the Ordinary

Candice’s P.O.V.Two years after the wedding, the villa no longer felt like an escape. It felt like the center of everything.I stood in the lemon grove at dusk, bare feet in cool grass, watching fireflies drift like tiny lanterns among the branches. The air was thick with citrus and sea salt, the kind of evening that made you believe summer would never end. From the terrace above came the low murmur of voices—Mom laughing at something Dad said, Sanna’s quiet rumble, Conti’s louder tone teasing Isabella about her latest art project. They were all here this week: family reunion, no agenda, just the simple act of being together.Mantovani found me in the grove like he always did when I wandered off. He moved quieter now, the limp almost gone, the cane long retired to a corner of the bedroom closet. He wore loose linen pants and an open shirt, the long silver scar across his chest catching the last of the light. He didn’t speak at firs

Echoes in the Garden

Candice’s P.O.V.Three years after we planted those first lilies, the cliff garden had become something wild and generous.The original bulbs had multiplied into drifts of white trumpets that spilled down the slope toward the sea, mingling with wild rosemary and sea lavender that had taken root on their own. Every spring they bloomed thicker than the year before, as if the ground itself remembered how close we had come to losing everything and decided to give us beauty in return. I walked among them barefoot most mornings, coffee in one hand, the other resting on the gentle swell of my second pregnancy—this one a boy, already kicking like he wanted to join the world early.Mantovani found me there just after sunrise, moving with the easy stride he had reclaimed over time. The limp was gone. The cane lived in the hall closet beside the old rifle we both hoped would never be needed again. He wore loose linen pants and an open shirt, the long silver sca

Echoes of the Ordinary

Candice’s P.O.VTwo years after we planted those first lilies, the cliff garden had become something wild and generous.The original bulbs had multiplied into drifts of white trumpets that spilled down the slope toward the sea, mingling with wild rosemary and sea lavender that had taken root on their own. Every spring they bloomed thicker than the year before, as if the ground itself remembered how close we had come to losing everything and decided to give us beauty in return. I walked among them barefoot most mornings, coffee in one hand, the other resting on the gentle swell of my second pregnancy. This one was a boy, already kicking like he wanted to join the world early.Mantovani found me there just after sunrise, moving with the easy stride he had reclaimed over time. The limp was gone. The cane lived in the hall closet beside the old rifle we both hoped would never be needed again. He wore loose linen pants and an open shirt, the long silver scar ac

All Chapters of Falling for My Biker Stepbrother: Chapter 61 - Chapter 64

Ordinary Wonders

Echoes of the Ordinary

Echoes in the Garden

Echoes of the Ordinary