Epilogue
The following year…
FRANCIE
If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be standing in a seaside bookstore with my name splashed across the covers of actual books, signing them with a pink Sharpie while my overprotective brothers hovered like secret service agents and my boyfriend whispered utterly inappropriate things in my ear between well-wishers…
Well, I would’ve laughed. Then probably tripped over something. And definitely spilled coffee down my front.
But here I am.
Books by the Sea is exactly what a bookstore on Liberty Island should be.
It’s tucked between the pier and the village green, with whitewashed clapboard siding, big ocean-facing windows, and the salty scent of the ocean drifting in every time the door opens.
Fairy lights twist around the ceiling beams. Shelves made from reclaimed driftwood line the walls, packed with bestsellers and beach reads, plus a local authors display – or rather local author, because I’m the only one – that makes me blush every time I glance at it.
There's a reading nook in the back with two overstuffed armchairs and a faded Persian rug. A big hand-painted sign behind the counter reads, Books are magic, and so are you.
Sadie, the new owner, opened the shop only three months ago.
Nobody really knows her history, or why she decided to open a bookstore here on Liberty.
But she’s absolutely in her element, wearing a maxi dress covered in tiny books, tucking pencils behind both ears, and organizing themed displays with military strictness.
She bustles around like a caffeinated book fairy, refilling the display table, chatting with customers, and sending up silent thank-yous to the book gods every time another ferry of readers arrives from the mainland.
“You’re single-handedly funding my caffeine habit,” she tells me under her breath, sliding another stack of my novels across the table.
“I aim to support small businesses,” I reply solemnly, adding a heart to my signature.
Outside, the line of readers curls down the sidewalk and out of view. Autumn, who’s taken on the role of unofficial publicist, content creator, and proud best friend, is filming the chaos for TikTok, cackling about views and engagement as she pans across the crowd.
From my spot behind the table, I see Mylene pacing on the sidewalk like a woman on a mission. She’s flatly refusing to enter because Eileen is here, standing smugly at the front of the line, a copy of my book clutched to her chest like it's a rare diamond.
Sadie ducks behind a nearby display like Mylene might breathe fire. “She’s convinced Eileen’s going to buy the last signed copy,” she whispers.
“I think we’re safe,” I murmur, eyeing the piles waiting to be signed.
“Francie!” Charlie’s voice cuts through the buzz, loud and cheerful and unmistakably him.
He materializes at my side, sunglasses perched on his head like a crown, carrying a coffee in one hand and a chocolate croissant in the other.
“Just wanted to say thank you. It’s not every day a man gets immortalized as the charming rogue in a romance novel. ”
“You’re not in the book.”
He winks. “That’s what you think.”
Sadie chokes on a laugh as Charlie flips open a copy and dramatically fans himself. “Page 263. You’re welcome, America.”
“Please stop,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing.
Before I can catch my breath, Alice, my editor, strides in from outside, looking both chic and vaguely chaotic, her vape tucked behind one ear and her phone clutched like it’s a glass of champagne. She stops beside my table, grinning like the cat who got the publishing deal.
“You’re viral on TikTok,” she announces, tapping her screen. “Advance readers are losing their minds.”
“Oh god,” I say, bracing myself. “Is it the cliffhanger?”
“Nope. It’s your sex scenes. Listen to this.”
She clears her throat dramatically and reads aloud, “This book melted my Kindle. I had to put it in the freezer. My husband thinks I’ve been electrocuted.”
Sadie snorts from behind the display. Charlie fist-pumps. Myles chokes on his iced coffee, his face turning the color of beets.
Alice just beams. “Congratulations. You’re officially causing household drama. How quickly can you write the next book?”
I bury my face in my hands. “I swear to God.”
And then I feel it. Warm fingers brushing the back of my neck. The quiet hum of Asher’s presence sliding in behind me like gravity. Alice leaves my side, making a beeline for Myles who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
“Your brothers are planning their next interrogation,” Asher murmurs to me, his voice low and delicious against my ear. “If I don’t make it out alive, tell Parker he can have my fishing rod.”
“Don’t,” I say, turning just enough to meet his eyes. “I like watching them squirm when you touch me.”
“They’re terrifying.”
“They should be.”
Which is a lie, of course. They’ve warmed up to him.
Mostly. Liam still refers to him as “that security guy,” and Brooks pretends he’s not impressed by the billionaire who brought muffins to woo their little sister.
But they showed up today, with gruff hugs and soft smiles and their families in tow.
And it means everything.
Asher’s family is here, too. Skyler, glowing and delighted to no longer be pregnant, is carefully navigating the stacks with a coffee in hand, pausing to pose for Autumn’s camera.
Hudson is holding their baby daughter, brow furrowed like he’s assessing the shop for structural weaknesses.
Jesse and Parker are deep in conversation about fishing rods, and Eden is curled up in the back corner with my book open, already a quarter of the way through.
Across the room, I catch West glancing at her, before quickly looking away.
Interesting.
One person who is thankfully not here is Annalise.
For obvious reasons. After Asher handed everything over to the authorities, she was arrested last fall.
The charges included hacking, conspiracy, and my personal favorite, obstruction with malice.
She turned down a plea deal, so she’s headed to trial.
Brad, on the other hand, is thriving. He’s now COO of Asher’s company, running the New York office like a dream, while Asher works mostly from Liberty. We’re living in one of the newly renovated fishermen’s cottages while we build something of our own.
And the book, the one I finished during a week that nearly broke me, is out in the world.
It ends on a cliffhanger that’s caused mild online chaos.
People are posting reaction videos, theorizing over who survives the final scene, and preorders for book two are already through the roof. Even though it’s not written.
And Alice is desperate for me to get back to my writing nook.
But not tonight.
Tonight, we celebrate.
Autumn turned the lighthouse lawn into a wonderland of fairy lights, paper lanterns, and a banner that reads From Cliffhangers to Happily Ever Afters.
There’s a chocolate fountain, an open bar, and, because this is my life now, a professional Fabio lookalike who’s posing for photos with a plastic sword.
Everyone I love is here. My family. Asher’s family. Half the island. Maybe more.
And later, when the lights dim and the crowd thins and the stars burn bright above the cliffs, I’ll get him to myself.
The man who waited outside with muffins. Who sees every part of me, even the broken pieces, and loves me anyway.
Tonight, I don’t have to write a happy ending.
Because I get to live it.
ASHER
The evening is sultry, the lawns lit with fairy lights, as I stand with the velvet ring box in my pocket, trying to ignore the way Francie’s brothers are staring at me like they’re deciding what size casket they’ll need to buy for me.
Autumn catches my eye from across the yard. She’s wearing a vintage chiffon dress and a hopeful smile, nudging Eden in the side and gesturing at me like she’s the conductor and I’m first violin.
She’s known about my plan since I ordered the ring a month ago. And she’s been dropping hints ever since. Her best one yet is the banner she strung up from the lighthouse.
From Cliffhangers to Happily Ever Afters is written in huge silver foil letters, stretched over a chocolate fountain that the kids are clustered around, next to the Fabio lookalike the women of Liberty are trying very hard not to drool over.
But the only thing I can’t take my eyes off is Francie.
She’s across the garden, head tipped back in laughter, holding a glass of champagne as she talks to Skyler and Jesse. Her red dress hugs her like it was made just for her. Bold and soft. Fiery and elegant. Just like her.
And when she turns and catches my eye, the whole party fades to black.
The ring box is burning a hole in my pocket, but I force myself to breathe. To wait. Because this moment? It’s all hers.
Francie walks across the grass toward me, hips swaying, bare shoulders glowing under the lights. Her eyes lock with mine and my chest tightens with every step she takes.
I hold out my hand and she slips hers into it without hesitation. The moment our fingers lace, my body relaxes.
With my other hand, I reach into my pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. Not my phone this time. This story is handwritten, the ink smudged in the corner where my thumb pressed too hard.
“I wrote this while you were signing books today,” I murmur. “You were talking to readers, laughing, completely in your element. And all I could think was how lucky I am to be part of your story.”
She unfolds the note carefully, smoothing it between her fingers before she begins to read.
She didn’t need a hero. She never had.
She needed someone who would stand beside her in the storm,
Let her burn bright without dimming her fire,
And love her, not for who she might become, but for exactly who she is.
He’d never stop learning how to do that.
This is our chapter one. Here’s where we begin.
Francie blinks hard, tears catching on her lashes. She clutches the paper to her chest and opens her mouth, but no words come out.
So I do what I’ve been waiting all day to do. I drop to one knee.
There’s a breathless beat of silence. Her eyes widen, lips parting like she’s trying to breathe and think all at once. And I swear my heart’s about to pound through my chest.
“I’m so in love with you,” I say, my voice rough. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than you can even imagine. And if you say yes, I’ll spend the rest of my life learning how to deserve you.”
She doesn’t answer right away.
Instead, she lets the note float from her fingers to the ground, cups my face in her hands, and pulls me up. Just like she did the first time she kissed me outside the lighthouse.
Only this time, she’s not uncertain. She’s mine.
And then, with her mouth against mine, she whispers, “Yes. Obviously.”
Cheers erupt around us. Autumn lets out a full-on scream.
Eden jumps up and down beside her, grinning so hard her cheeks look sore.
Hudson mutters something that sounds a lot like “finally” under his breath.
One of Francie’s brothers swears, loudly.
Might have been Myles. Might have been Brooks. I’m not looking. And I don’t care.
Because she said yes.
The lighthouse beam arcs over us, catching the tips of her hair like a halo. The breeze smells like salt and summer and home.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Eden talking to West. There’s the strangest look on his face, like he’s trying – and failing – to keep his calm. She rolls her eyes, and he immediately looks away, suddenly very captivated by a string of lights.
Interesting.
But right now, I’ve got more important things to think about. Francie’s hand finds mine again, squeezing tight.
Whatever our future holds, we’ll be plotting it together.
And deep in my heart I know, it’ll be the best story I ever get to tell.
Thank you for reading, I hope you loved Francie’s and Asher’s story!