Page 50 of The Best Worst Mistake (Off-Limits #2)

Abby, nearly two years later

Olivia’s face fills my phone screen. It’s a familiar scene, her and I eating a meal together through a FaceTime call. Something we’ve done hundreds of times at this point, possibly more.

“You’re positive you and Dax don’t want to take the jet?” she asks. “You two could really make good use of that bedroom in the back . . .”

I look up, wondering if anyone can hear her talking through that wall of glass in front of me.

Outside, the sidewalk looks crowded, but no one seems to be paying attention to the conversation happening in here.

And besides, the person I’m waiting for hasn’t arrived yet, though they’re only a few minutes late so far.

“Yes, I’m positive. Dax and I are perfectly happy flying commercial.” I grin. “You’re already being nice enough to offer us your oceanfront villa to use for the ceremony, for crying out loud. We don’t need to steal your collection of private jets, too.”

“Then I’m upgrading you both to first class,” she says, firmly. “Send me your confirmation number for the reservation so I can make the call now, since those seats tend to go pretty quick on long flights.”

“Have you told Dom your news yet?” I ask, scrolling through my email. She’s practically glowing through the screen.

Liv’s face flushes, somehow looking even more happy than it did just a moment ago. “No,” she says. “I want you here when I do that. Why else do you think I’m dying to get you over here as fast as possible?”

I sigh happily, feeling over the moon for her.

Just then, the bell dings above the door.

I look up.

A little girl walks in, holding tight to the hand of the woman beside her.

They both look around at the office; it’s their first time here.

I’ve made it as warm and welcoming as I can, using Starry’s help regarding how to do that.

Floor lamps are scattered across the room instead of using the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, and there’s a warm candle burning on my desk that smells like apple pie, along with big cushy chairs and couches for clients to sit on.

There’re at least a dozen plants scattered around the room as well, courtesy of Charlie.

My home away from home.

“I gotta run,” I tell Liv.

I grab the freshly-baked plate of salted chocolate-chip cookies from the table behind me and a couple bottled milks from the fridge. Starry insists on dropping off a fresh batch of her secret recipe every other day for the kids that come in.

“A little feeling of home for everyone who walks in,” she told me when she came by the day I opened my doors for the first time.

“Are you Miss Torres?” the woman asks, looking over her shoulder at the sign over the door.

It reads Miss Candi’s House , with Abby Torres, Owner and Managing Partner beneath it.

I know it’s an unconventional name for a law firm, but I think it makes the place a little less scary for the kids that come in with their guardians.

Plus, Miss Candi absolutely loved it when I told her about the idea, giving her blessing at least fourteen times when I asked if I could use her name.

“I am!” I say, beaming down at the little girl. “And who do we have here?”

Although I’m still across the room from her, I kneel down to the girl’s height so I can greet her at eye level. She’s thin as a rail, which seems to make her big, brown eyes look even wider.

She hides her face behind the woman’s leg. “Kayla,” she says, shyly.

The girl’s probably six or seven, though sometimes the kids that come in are far older than I’d guess, given how small they are.

“Kayla, it’s nice to meet you. My name’s Abby.

” She comes a few steps closer when I hold up the plate, eyeing the cookies.

“I’m so glad you could come today. My friend dropped these off this morning.

” I glance up at her guardian, who in this case I know is her aunt.

Then back down at Kayla. “Would it be alright for your aunt to have one of these?”

The girl smiles shyly but giggles, nodding up at her aunt, like I’m being silly to ask her permission.

Her aunt smiles at me, gratitude filling her eyes, and takes a cookie off the tray. Then she looks down at the girl, squeezing her hand.

“Now, I’ll ask your aunt.” I wink at Kayla before turning to her next. “Aunt Sarah, would it be alright for Kayla to have one, too?”

“Of course,” Sarah says, nudging the girl forward.

The girl grabs two from the tray, and I smile at her, happy to see her shyness fading quicker than most.

“Do you want one, too?” Kayla asks, holding one of her two up to me.

“Oh, I always want one,” I tell her, then take my own from the tray, “but you can keep both of those for yourself, if you’d like.”

I spend the next hour talking with Sarah about how the adoption of her niece will work, while Kayla plays with a few toys in the corner and a mix of children’s songs are piped in through the speakers Silas insisted on wiring in, even though I told him a simple Bluetooth setup would suffice.

It keeps whatever Kayla hears to a minimum while we go over the details.

Silas had insisted on funding the building for Miss Candi’s House , along with the children’s corner of toys, which looked like FAO Schwarz had exploded every possible toy all over the room when Dax first gave him the green light to handle it.

I had to scale the toy collection back, keeping over half of them in storage for the coming years, when the current toys get too worn and I need to swap some out.

Silas, who swears he’s eternally sorry for the little snafu with Brett, also insisted on funding the wish portion of the firm himself indefinitely.

As in, forever. The kids that come in here with their guardians are all granted a childhood wish — either something they tell me they’d like to do, or one they pick out from my Wall of Wishes across the room.

Kayla’s been playing with a doll this whole time, mostly pretending to feed it cookies and fake foods from the little toy kitchen in the corner. I don’t know the reason for sure, but I can imagine why.

“Kayla, I have a question for you,” I say, calling her over when I’m finished finalizing the adoption plan with her aunt. “Two questions, actually.”

Kayla skips across the room, the doll held tightly in her arms.

“Question number one,” I say, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Would you like to keep that doll for yourself?”

Her whole face lights up and she hugs it tighter.

“Yes!” she shouts, then quickly looks at her aunt for permission.

“What do you say?” Sarah asks, smiling.

Kayla turns pink, suddenly shy again. “Thank you,” she says.

“Second question.” I hold up a second finger. “If you could choose to do anything in this whole city, what would you do? What’s one thing that you’ve always dreamed of doing?”

She raises her eyes to the ceiling, deep in thought, and I purse my lips, trying not to smile too wide or make her feel silly. I just love this part the most.

“There’s a big wall of ideas over here, if you need a little inspiration,” I tell her, pointing to the mural I painted across one side of the room.

It’s a big rainbow with at least a hundred different shades, each one adorned with a different wish a child might like, paired with a picture of each wish for the kids who can’t read yet.

Most of them pick the bigger wishes like a day at Disneyland or the Santa Monica Pier with their guardian or new family.

Others surprise me by picking smaller things, like a milkshake from wherever they choose, or a trip to the store for a new set of clothes.

And then there’s the ones who simply break my heart by asking for the tiniest things off the top of their mind instead of choosing one from the wall, like a heavier jacket, or a breakfast from McDonald’s.

I never try to sway them to choose bigger wishes though, knowing how powerful and in-control the ability to choose something about their own destiny can help them to feel. I always wish I could grant each child a thousand wishes each.

Kayla points to the lightest blue portion of the rainbow — the one that shows a day at the beach.

Sarah bites her lip beside me, choking back a fresh set of tears.

“I’ve never been to the beach,” Kayla says, eyeing another cookie from the tray. “I almost did once, but my mommy changed her mind.”

I hand her the biggest cookie off the tray, first tucking it into a napkin.

“It’s amazing,” I tell her, remembering my first day at the beach with my best friend and my fiancé as one of the very best days of my life. “We’re going to make that happen for you, sweetheart. Second chances are everything, aren’t they?”

We come up with a plan and I send Kayla and her aunt off with a little tin of cookies for later. I’m waving them off when I see Dax walking down the sidewalk, passing them as he comes toward me.

He lights up when he sees Kayla with her little tin of sweets as she skips down the street, then he pulls me inside by the waist as he gets to the door.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over seeing how happy you make the people that come in here,” he says, kissing me gently. “I’m not completely sure, but I think it might come close to how happy you make me.”

I bite my lip, flipping the door sign over to read Closed from the sidewalk.

“That was my last appointment of the day,” I tell him. “We’re officially on vacation mode. Liv is insisting on upgrading us to first class for the flight tomorrow.”

I laugh, and he pulls me into him for a long hug, the feel of which might never grow old. I close my eyes, breathing the spicy notes of this morning’s cologne on his skin.

“Of course she is.” He kisses my neck. “What else are sisters for? It’s not every day you fly to Hawaii to get married.

” Then he moves his lips up my neck, finding that spot just beneath my ear.

The one that always makes my knees feel weak.

“Did you know that this might be our last chance to make love on a Friday afternoon in L.A. as two unmarried people?”

It sends goosebumps flying down my arms.

“Obviously, it would be a tragedy to not take advantage of that,” I say, tilting my head back, granting him free access to my neck.

He drags his lips past my jaw. “Funny, I had the same thought,” he says.

I pull the window shades down over the door and windows.

He takes both my hands and pulls me toward him, but stops for another kiss.

“I love you,” Dax says, looking into my eyes. “Possibly more than I ever did.”

“You tell me that every day,” I whisper, kissing him back.

“And every day, it’s true.”

He kisses me again, slower this time, until his words melt into actions and he shows me just how true it’s always been.

THE END