The Write Off: An Enemies To Lovers Romantic Comedy (Love In 2C Book 3)

Epilogue

Eight months later

Rilla

“Okay.” My eyes nervously scan the crowded room. “New plan: I’m going to need you to cause a diversion. Walk into the crowd and say that Brandon Sanderson is overrated. Or that Sarah J. Maas should have stopped after Throne Of Glass. Really sell it. And when the angry mob descends on you, I’ll slip out the back exit and meet you at the car. You might get maimed a bit, but I’m sure with your vertical advantage you can handle them.”

“Or,” Logan counters, stroking my back reassuringly. “We stay. You talk to all these nice people who’ve lined up around the block to meet you and sign their books. Then, when you’re done, I’ll take you home, make you pancakes, and ravish you so thoroughly you’ll forget that you were ever nervous and be ready to do it all again tomorrow.”

“Fine,” I huff. “We’ll do it your way. But you owe me so big.”

I’ve been to book signings before, but the fact that people are here to see me, to talk about my book, is beyond surreal.

Life itself has been downright dreamlike since Of Cinder And Sand debuted two months ago. Even though the PR campaign was very successful and early reviews were overwhelmingly positive, I wasn’t prepared for the reception it received. It exploded on Booktok two weeks after its release and was declared an instant bestseller.

More than one million copies have been sold to date. More than one million people have bought my book. It debuted so successfully that the publisher had to rush-order a reprint to meet the demand.

When I met my agent, Angie, for coffee a month after the release, she excitedly told me that the publisher would like to change my three-book contract to one for the entire six-book series. I decided then and there to finally come clean to her about the series being finished.

She screamed. Then she cried. Then she hugged me for what felt like entirely too long while screaming and crying.

I signed a seven-figure contract with Alyson Summers herself not two weeks later. It was the first time I’d seen her since she called the original “whistle blowers” together.

Logan got a well-deserved promotion at Thompson And Daye and I was so proud to see him recognized for all his hard work.

Of Ash And Thornwill be released six months from now and we’re currently working together editing the third book of the Primordial Series, Of Dust And Ruin. Even though promoting and revisions take up most of my time, I’ve been setting aside an hour a day to play around with a new young adult project I’ve been working on. It’s still in the very early stages, but I’m excited with what I’ve come up with so far.

The store manager approaches us, smiling broadly. “If you’re ready, Rilla, we’ll get started.”

Ready or not.

Giving Logan’s hand a final squeeze, I walk on wooden legs to the sprawling table they’ve set up for me. Copies of my book are stacked neatly on both sides of my chair. There is a line of at least fifty people that extends outside the store onto the sidewalk. They start to applaud as I reach the table and I wave awkwardly at them in response.

The next two hours go by in a blur. I sign books until my pen runs dry and the manager has to bring me a new one. My hand cramps, but I push through. I talk to fans, fans of my book, until my voice threatens to give out. Some people gush over the story and the characters, and tell me how excited they are for the second book in the series. One woman tells me that my book got her out of a year-long reading slump. Another woman tells me my book is the first thing to bring her any joy since her husband suddenly passed away two years ago.

Perhaps the most surprising encounter of the day is the young couple with their newborn son that they’ve named Cyprian. I pose for a picture with them, hoping that these lovely people don’t come for me when they realize that the character they named their bouncing bundle of joy after becomes the villain in book three.

It’s not all strangers, of course. My parents were amongst the first in line, each of them carrying a stack of hardcovers.

“You didn’t need to come,” I laugh, scribbling my name in loopy letters inside each book. “I’ve got another signing next week in Maine.”

“And we’ll be at that one, too,” Dad says with a wink.

“Your Aunt Kelly is bringing her entire book club. They’ve picked your book as their next read.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Mom?” I don’t think my aunt is a prude, but certain scenes might make her book club friends blush.

“Why? Because of the racy parts? Old women, like me, have had sex, Rilla. Honestly, how do you think you got here?”

I’m not sure at what point I actually relax, but when I’m laughing with a young guy about his reaction to the cliffhanger ending, I realize I’m having fun. No one showed up to throw pies at me or criticize my writing. Not all of the reviews have been favorable, obviously, but everyone who came out today seems to be genuine fans of the book and I’m overwhelmed by the response.

The gang arrives about an hour in.

“You are far too cool to be related to Josh,” Callum says, admiring the crowd of people still to come.

“I’ve been telling you that for years,” I say as I sign his book.

“No arguments here,” my brother says, coming in for a hug that lifts me right off the ground. “I’m so proud of you, Rill.”

“I know you are.” I sniff, blinking my misty eyes as he puts me down. “As well you should be. I’m great. Are you ready for your trip?”

“I think so,” Betty says, hugging her signed copy to her chest. They’re heading to Rhode Island for the weekend to visit her dad. What Betty doesn’t know is that Josh is planning to propose while they’re there.

I’m so excited for them I could burst. Josh pats the front of his jeans pockets nervously like he’s got the ring I helped him pick out on him now.

“Let’s get a quick group picture so we can stop holding up the line,” Maggie suggests. She motions us to gather closer and we all crowd together, Betty and Maggie on either side of me and our obnoxiously tall partners behind us. The store manager uses my phone to take the picture. Logan rests his hands on my hips and I lean back against him, grinning so hard my face hurts.

***

I rouse to the sweet smell of maple and open my heavy eyes. I must have nodded off on Logan’s couch because the room is definitely darker than when I first collapsed on it.

“You’re awake just in time,” Logan comes in carrying a tray of pancakes. He’s wearing my favorite apron that never fails to turn me into a feral chipmunk. “Second breakfast is served.”

“I love it when you talk Hobbit to me.”

“I thought you’d want to use the syrup your fanboy brought you.” He passes me a tall glass bottle.

“You thought right!” I grin as I remove the plastic from the neck of the bottle. “I still can’t believe someone drove all the way from New Brunswick just to see me.” And brought me Canadian maple syrup, no less, having read an interview online where I disclosed my favorite food.

“I can.”

With his jeans and t-shirt and ruffled hair, he looks more appetizing than these pancakes. If I wasn’t ready to pass out from hunger, I’d have him for dinner instead.

“Happy anniversary, Kitten.”

“Anniversary?”

“It was one year ago today you stumbled into my office doused in coffee and yelled at me for shitting on your manuscript.”

He’s right.

“A year of challenging one another–”

“And driving each other insane.”

We still bicker sometimes. Just the other day, I was baking cookies when he had the wrong opinion about one of my favorite books and I defended its honor by throwing a handful of flour in his face. He, childishly, sunk to my level and retaliated, and before we knew it, we were both covered, the kitchen looking like a cocaine party gone horribly awry. Neither of us was willing to admit we were at fault, but we handled it like adults, making it up to one another in the shower several times.

“That too,” he admits with a wry smile. “Rilla, this has been the best year of my life. I’ve laughed and learned more than ever. I’ve lived more in the last year than all other years combined and I’ve loved more than I ever thought possible. Being with you is an adventure I didn’t see coming, but now that I’m on it, I never want it to end.”

My throat tightens and my heart swells. “I can’t wait for more adventures with you.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Because I’ve booked a trip for when your book tour wraps.”

“A trip? Where are we going?” We’ve talked about going on a vacation in the spring, but haven’t made any definite plans.

Logan hands me a thick envelope he must have been concealing. I open it to find folded-up papers and brochures and my jaw drops so fast. If I had been eating, I’m certain I would have spit out my pancakes.

“New Zealand? For real? They have Lord Of The Rings tours.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“You talk about them in your sleep.”

I smack him in the chest and he grunts.

“I have booked a twelve-day Middle Earth experience. I’ve been assured it is the ultimate fan tour.”

Abandoning my plate on the table, I throw my leg over him, climbing onto his lap and pinning him to the couch below me.

“You really want to spend your first vacation in years traipsing around the New Zealand countryside with a bunch of fantasy nerds? Logan, this must have cost you a fortune.”

“Spending two weeks watching you lose your mind over random filming locations of a twenty-five-year-old movie is priceless, Love.”

“It’s too much.”

“It’s just enough. Consider it a Tolkien of my love for you.”

I cover my face with my hands and groan. “Why am I so attracted to you?”

“It’s the apron. Now, if you’re done with your pancakes, I believe I promised you a thorough ravishing.”

I wrap myself around him tighter as he stands and starts for the bedroom.

“That reminds me,” I say, peppering kisses down his neck. “I got you something at the bookstore.”

“Please tell me you didn’t buy me a dinosaur erotica book.”

“I didn’t buy you a dinosaur erotica book. I bought you two dinosaur erotica books.”

“Rilla–”

“I think you’re going to like these ones. The first one is called Paleo Park After Dark. It’s about a paleontologist who discovers that the fossils at a dinosaur park come to life at night.”

“Rilla–”

“And if that doesn’t do it for you, I also got Tyrannosaurus-Sex and–”

“Rilla.”

“Yes, Logan?”

“Stop talking.” He places me on the bed and I immediately pull him down on top of me.

I grin as I graze his earlobe with my teeth. “Make me.”