Epilogue #2
In the beginning, paparazzi were camped out in front of In Bloom hoping to get a glimpse of Nikki coming to visit.
I had to give up the apartment over the shop as a result, but it’s fine.
We really needed the storage space, and the kitchen makes a great employee break room too.
Most of that has died down now, though. Nikki’s team feeds out so many official pictures—ones we both get to approve beforehand—that we’ve rendered pap pics pretty much worthless.
Still, I don’t want them to know where I live.
I pull the magazine toward me, laughing when Regan tries to yank it back to keep reading herself. I skim the article quickly,
curious if they kept in the part about future plans. They did—giving a nod to the documentary that Nikki and I coproduced
about growing up in Hollywood. It got picked up by a streamer and will premiere in a month or two. It’s the closest I’ll ever
come to being back on camera.
My days as an actress are not missed, but it’s sure been fun to be beloved again.
I don’t know how long any of this will last. I learned on the first go-round that fame is fleeting—an audience that loves
you will turn on you just as fast—and also that generally it’s probably better if I don’t melt down in public ever again.
We keep our public appearances happy and sober these days, thank you very much.
Needless to say, I spend a lot of time sneaking off here to work on projects in my old bedroom upstairs, which Regan has kept
as an impromptu office for me. Now that she and Johnny have moved into her house together, I’ve been staying at his old place
behind the garage whenever I’m in town. It’s a little less cozy than my apartment here, but I love it just the same. Plus,
it’s behind all the tow gates for the impound lot he also runs, which means nobody can get in to bother me.
The bells over the door ring and I look up, grinning when I see it’s Nikki walking in. She’s got on her standard shades and a hoodie that lets her move around here somewhat effortlessly—although less so lately with the publicity we’ve been getting.
I run over and wrap her in a hug, kissing her like I haven’t seen her in weeks because . . . well, I haven’t seen her in weeks. She’s been away filming a guest role on a hot new TV show, and I’ve been here doting on Regan and doing
all my best maid of honor duties. It’s only fair, I think, looking down at the engagement ring on my finger. She’ll be doing it for us next year.
“Hi, baby,” Nikki says, pulling my hand up for a kiss. I’m not the only one who can’t stop staring at our rings. Regan says
it’s just new, and we’ll get used to having them, but I don’t see how.
Nikki proposed a week before she left for filming—a simple, private affair after making me a quiet dinner at home—beating
my plan to propose to her via skywriting by twenty-four hours. I still went ahead and made her stand outside and did the whole
get-down-on-one-knee thing back to her, explaining after that it had been in the works for months . . . and also the skywriting
was nonrefundable.
It’s only fitting, I think—if we can fall in love twice, we can propose twice too.
Nikki reaches into her bag and pulls out another, more wrinkled copy of Vogue. “How’s my little superstar feeling on her big day?”
“Too late,” Regan says, holding up her own copy.
Nikki pouts. “You started teasing her without me? Tell me you at least didn’t call her ‘Anderson in Bloom’ yet.”
Regan shrugs. “You snooze you lose, Nik.”
“It’s not my fault that your future husband asked me to grab him a coffee on my way here!”
“Ugh, you spoil him.” Regan rolls her eyes. “I told him to get his own damn coffee when he asked me.”
“He told me you would say that, and he said I should ask you if you want him to finish restoring that 1967 Jaguar for your
honeymoon, or if you want to drive across the country in your ‘boring Civic’?”
“Point taken,” Regan grumbles. “Thank you for caffeinating him, I guess.”
Who would have thought? Nikki and Johnny are as thick as thieves these days. She probably talks to him more than I even talk
to Regan, outside of wedding stuff. I think they relate to one another on the “hopelessly in love with someone who needed
time” front. Nikki even used some of her connections through set designers and stunt people to help locate the perfect car
for him to restore for their trip. It’s pretty cute, honestly.
“You’re welcome,” Nikki says. “And I have coffee for both of you too in the rental car. I just wanted my hands free to greet
my fiancée first.”
“Oh, puke,” Regan says, grabbing the magazine. “I’ll give you guys some privacy. Give me your car keys—I want my latte. I’m
going to go finish reading this in the park.”
Nikki laughs and tosses Regan the keys before setting her bag down and wrapping me up in a proper hug. I jump into her arms
and giggle as she slowly walks me back to sit me on the counter. Her fingers dig into my hips when I lean down and give her
another kiss.
“I’m gonna call you Anderson in Bloom forever now. You know that, right?” Nikki murmurs against my skin.
“I’d rather you call me Anderson Colletti.”
Nikki leans back, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Really?” she asks, as if she can’t believe it. “You want my last name?”
“I want all of you, but yeah, the last name’s a good start.”
“Holy shit,” she whispers, her face breaking into the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
“I take it you like that idea?”
“I love it.” She beams.
“Good,” I say, pulling her in even closer. “So do I.”