The Rolls Royce glided to a halt outside the massive bookstore on Oxford Street in London.

Nate noticed the line out the door and around the corner.

He turned to the young man at his side. “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile, Jon,” Nate told his son.

The young man shrugged his shoulders and looked at his father then he rolled his eyes.

Nate smiled.

They’d been in this situation before. Lily’s books were very popular and she gave a great deal of time to her readers.

Seven years earlier, Lily published a novel about a war widow, her fatherless daughter, the intense but loving man she married, the daughter that came from a genie’s wish and that daughter’s romance with an impossibly handsome but hard, cold, forbidding man whose heart she had to mend, a romance filled with trials and tribulations.

It became a bestseller and Lily, often with Nate, Tash and their newly-adopted, ten-year old son Jon in tow, travelled the world signing books and speaking to rooms filled with her fans.

The first bestseller was almost always the fan’s favourite however they usually had Lily’s series which consisted of book after book of romantic lovers and their perils, each filled with humour, touched with sadness and always, there was a genie.

Nate and Jon moved through the crowd to the table where Lily sat behind a stack of books and smiled her quirky, effective smile at the next person in line.

Even after eight years of seeing it every day, Nate’s body (and heart) still reacted to that smile.

“Dad!” Tash called and ran forward from her place beside Fazire who was standing behind and to the right of Lily, shadowed, hidden but always at his Lily’s side.

Tash threw herself at Nate, her tall, lean body rocking him back on his heels.

She’d never changed her habit of shouting his name and hurling herself in his arms every time she saw him.

Late at night, some years before, lying in his arms in the dark, Lily shared with some sadness that she thought Tash secretly feared every time Nate left her presence that he’d never come back.

Nate had long since worried the same thing.

He leaned back from his daughter, tucked a heavy curtain of her black hair behind her ear and smiled down into her eyes, his eyes, and she smiled back. He read the relief in them, as he often did since the very first days he came into her life before she quickly hid it.

“Jeez, Tash. Knock him off his feet, why don’t you,” Jon muttered from beside Nate.

Tash pulled out of Nate’s arms and shoved her brother’s shoulder. “Shut up, Jon.”

“Grow up, Tash,” Jon shot back.

“You grow up,” Tash returned.

Jon turned beleaguered brown eyes to his father.

“Stop,” Nate said quietly but firmly and both of his children, as they had for years when their father spoke in that tone, immediately obeyed. Though, it must be said, Tash did it with obvious reluctance and Jon did it with extreme arrogance, an arrogance Lily maintained he got from Nate, pontificating, sometimes at great length, of the prevalence of nurture over nature.

Nate had been wary of adopting a child older than Tash, a street-tough, a kid just like him.

Lily had insisted. So had Laura. Maxine had demanded (dramatically). Victor had, surprisingly, sided with Lily, Laura and Maxie. Fazire had, surprisingly, sided with Nate.

Not surprisingly, Lily had convinced Nate as well as Fazire.

It hadn’t been easy going.

Jon was a good-looking boy, tall, lean, strong, with dark-brown hair and eyes. He was smart, not as smart as Tash but he was street smart, sharp as a tack and a quick learner.

Jon was also rough, foul-mouthed, ill-mannered and had a deprived life that equalled and even surpassed Nate’s.

Tash, with her open heart, had taken to him immediately. She loved having a brother and it was Tash’s months of unrelenting exuberance that broke him down. That and, of course, Lily’s unwavering but not overbearing love, just like Laura had shown to Nate, and Nate’s firm guidance and innate understanding. Not to mention Fazire’s outlandish but caring regard, Maxine’s dramatics and definitely overbearing love, Laura’s gentle affection and Victor’s gruff kindness.

It took a year but Jon settled in then he accepted them then his status of “adopted” melted away and he allowed himself to become one of the family.

The only one who knew his full story was Tash. Or Jon thought Tash was the only one who knew. Fazire had overheard them and he’d called down Lily who’d waved at a passing Nate and they’d all listened in until Nate, realising what they were eavesdropping on, had forcefully pushed both his wife and her genie down the hall as they silently struggled then eventually relented. Jon had bared everything to his new sister. And Tash had kept his secrets and they were close, truly close, as siblings should be.

Even though, to Nate’s gentle annoyance, they fought constantly.

They stood, the three of them, and watched Lily sign her books.

“I wish these crowds would go away, I’m hungry,” Tash mumbled impatiently.

“Careful with your wishes, little sister.” Jon threw his arm casually around Tash’s shoulders and she leaned into her brother, “Fazire’s watching.”

Fazire, Nate noted, wasn’t watching, he was scowling. Then again, Fazire always scowled.

Jon knew about Fazire. Jon had even been granted his own wish though he, as with Tash, had yet to use it. This wish had been granted two years ago, after a visit from the Great Grand Genie Number One. For some reason, these visits came regularly, usually when Lily baked Nate a cake, something she did each week of their first months as husband and wife (as promised) then each month after his first-ever birthday then yearly, without fail, on his birthday – and other times besides.

The rules of Fazire’s magical attendance on their family had been made at their wedding reception. Each direct descendent of Nate and Lily’s line had one wish, if Fazire wished to bestow it, and Fazire would live with the first-born girl unless he had another favourite, that was entirely up to Fazire.

Fazire and Jon had a relationship that rivalled even the one the genie had with Tash. Then again, Fazire loved anyone that Lily loved. Even, Nate realised some time ago, Nate himself.

Fazire stomped up to Nate and his children but, as ever, he directed his glare at Nate.

“Do something. I need a coffee. I need cake. I will die if I do not have cake this instant,” he demanded of Nate.

“You won’t die Fazire. You can’t die,” Tash pointed out, wrinkling her nose at her genie.

“Well, I’ll experience a fate worse than death,” Fazire shot back.

“What’s that?” Jon asked, grinning as he always did at Fazire’s eccentric behaviour.

“Extreme hunger and lack of cake,” Fazire answered and his gaze swung to Nate. “Nathaniel, do something.”

Nate looked at his watch. Lily had stayed forty-five minutes passed the time she was supposed to stop.

He turned his head and looked at his wife. Every day, she got more beautiful, so much so he wondered vaguely if he’d been bewitched.

He didn’t ask, mainly because he didn’t care.

“Lily,” he called, his deep voice carrying across the expanse that separated them.

Lily’s head shot up from signing a book and she smiled at her husband.

Nate’s gut twisted but it wasn’t at all unpleasant, in fact it was intensely pleasant and anyway, Nate was not only used to it, he liked it.

“Yes?” she called back.

“Fazire wants cake,” Nate told her.

“I do not want cake,” Fazire announced loudly and all eyes that had not turned to Nate (and stared, he was used to the women who stood in Lily’s book signing line staring at him then again, he was long since used to most women staring at him), turned at Fazire’s announcement and the genie finished, “I need cake.”

“We’ll shut down the line,” an employee offered to a groaning audience.

“Ten more,” Lily put in then turned her smile at the line and explained, “I have to see to my family.”

More heads turning, more stares at Nate, the incredibly handsome Jon, the extraordinarily beautiful Tash and the bizarre Fazire. Then heads swung back to Lily.

Most of the line disbursed good-naturedly and with thoughts that the strange man looked exactly like a genie and also, of course, that Lily McAllister’s husband was impossibly handsome.

Lily finished her ten books, shook hands with the bookstore manager, spoke briefly with employees then moved with her usual unaffected grace toward her family.

Upon arrival, she kissed Tash’s forehead, Jon’s cheek and then, up on tiptoe, eyes warm on his, she brushed her lips against her husband’s cheek.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, finding Nate’s hand, “now, cake.”

“Finally,” Fazire grumbled as if he’d been waiting millennia rather than forty-five minutes.

They moved to the door, Nate flipping open his phone and calling their driver. His hand left Lily’s but only so his arm could slide along her shoulders, pulling her to his side as they walked. This he did a great deal and Lily’s step fell in practised tandem with Nate’s.

While speaking to their driver, Nate watched as Tash shoved Jon then Jon wrapped his arm around Tash’s neck and pulled her against him much as Lily was against Nate with obvious differences mainly Tash exclaiming loudly, “Let go!” even though she clearly didn’t want him to.

“Children! You are making a scene,” Fazire declared even more loudly, making his own scene.

Nate flipped his phone closed after he’d told the driver they were ready for him and Lily’s arm wrapped around his waist.

She tilted her head to look up at him.“Are we spending the weekend at the penthouse or going back to Clevedon?”

“London,” Nate stated.

Lily nodded and looked to the ground.

“Lily?” Nate called.

She tilted her head back to him and her lips tipped up at the ends in a ghost of her quirky grin. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

He didn’t say it often, he preferred to show it though Lily did both and often.

Therefore, when he did say it, she reacted, extraordinarily so, gratifyingly so. Her eyes lit then warmed then softened then filled with wonder and awe, though the last bit was normally how she looked at Nate… still.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

Abruptly Nate stopped and so did Lily.

And he thanked time for his children were old enough that they no longer needed to be shielded from Nate’s intense affection for his wife.

He turned Lily in his arms and he gave her a kiss, a real kiss, a kiss that made her breath catch (Nate, with satisfaction, not only heard it, he felt it) and his heart beat powerfully in his chest.

He had no idea that people were staring at the beautiful, loving, happy couple and a few took pictures.

And he couldn’t have cared less.