Epilogue
Mia
The hammock sways as Gavin pivots the laptop to face me. Leaves rustle overhead, butterflies flitting between fragrant blossoms
by the new greenhouse he put up this spring. “All you have to do is fire up the number generator.” After years of hearing
me complain about the chore of naming characters, he finally suggested I make a list and choose one at random.
My arm is wedged beneath his, so I press my cheek against his shoulder. “You do the honors.” Obligingly, he navigates to the
browser and inputs a number range of one to forty-three but doesn’t click the button.
“I can’t be the one to do it,” he says. “Don’t want to be responsible.”
“Oof, fine.” I leverage myself up, the woven rope of the hammock digging into my elbow as I tap the button and watch the spinning
circle that’s about to decide the name of my next hero. “Twenty-five.” Falling back, I cover my eyes with my arm. “Please
don’t let it be Legolas.” The elf’s name was Gavin’s sole, entirely unhelpful contribution to the list.
“If it’s Legolas, you’re using it. That’s the deal.”
“My publisher would veto.”
“Okay, but in draft zero, it’s Legolas or nothing.”
I peek from under my arm. “Is it actually Legolas?”
Gavin shoots me a grin. “Nah. It’s Toby.”
“As in Tobias?” I squint up at the wisps of clouds in the afternoon sky, trying to remember putting that one on the list.
“As in you have your hero.” He shifts the laptop to my outstretched legs, the plastic warm against my bare thighs where my
cotton dress has gotten bunched. “Go forth and do your magic.”
Toby. Tobias. I roll the name around in my mind, trying it out. Stalling. But Gavin is already clambering out of the hammock. He
never reads over my shoulder, unlike the rest of my friends with whom I have to slam the laptop shut the moment they enter
the room. Then again, he’s not just a friend. Not anymore.
He’s halfway to the house, walking along the tidy brick path between hydrangeas and rosebushes, when I call out, “How old
is Toby?”
“Thirty-three,” he answers without turning around. “No kids, two parrots.”
“Parrots?”
He does turn then, walking backward. “To keep each other company. They live a long time.”
“Don’t be getting any ideas,” I warn him. “What would the cats do?” We didn’t keep them all, but we couldn’t let Mama Cat
go after all she’d been through, and Cedar had sunk his tiny kitten claws into our hearts from the start. Morris pushed past
his fear of screwing up pet ownership and adopted Ash, who now has her own social media account, and Sera surprised us by
taking Juniper home to keep her company while on bed rest. Their daughter is infatuated with him.
I don’t catch Gavin’s reply because I’ve already slipped on my noise-canceling headphones. A new book is always a mix of excitement and intimidation, but now I’m writing with the knowledge that I’m not weaving fairy tales, I’m writing possibilities.
Hours later, I reach the end of a chapter and glance away from the screen to find Gavin watering the patch of daylilies by
the shed. He’s dressed to go out, and twilight paints him in smudges of purple and blue. When did the sun set?
Taking off my headphones, the soothing sound of falling water reaches my ears, the orange flowers swaying under the near-invisible
spray from the garden hose. “How long have you been out here?”
“Not long. I just got off the phone with Mom and Dad. He surprised her with concert tickets.” His parents have reconciled,
though they aren’t remarried. According to his mom, they’re taking things slow this time around, but seeing them date is the
cutest thing ever. “You were really caught up.” He stoops to turn off the tap. “Nice to see you writing instead of struggling
with names.”
“You’re taking credit for the success of randomness?”
He comes over and I tip my chin up for a kiss. “If you think I’d ever take credit for your success, then you’re not seeing
clearly.”
As if to prove his point, he removes my glasses, the earpiece catching on one of my braids. Gently, he reaches behind my ear
and frees them. He wipes the lenses clean on the hem of his shirt, then, with a satisfied hum, puts them on himself. The black
frames that are Book Nerd Basic on me look outright dashing on him, especially with his crisp button-down.
“You’re awfully dressed up.” Though awful isn’t how I’d describe him. His cheeks are pink, freshly shaved, hair gelled into a neat style that likely won’t last through
the opening credits of the season-four watch party Riley has planned.
“Not every day I get to attend a premiere.” He came with me a couple years ago, right after we finally got together, but I brought my sister and Ted to the premiere of this season, so this will be Gavin’s first glimpse of Sydney and Victor as a couple, on-screen, that is. “Better hurry or we’ll be late.”
Passing him the laptop, I climb out of the hammock. “Would that be so terrible?” I never let on to anyone else, but Gavin
knows how uncomfortable I feel to watch my books play out on-screen. Despite the actors’ talent and the nuance brought out
by the adaptation, I haven’t gotten used to it.
He tucks the laptop under his arm, draping my headphones over his wrist, and not for the first time, I notice his strong forearms.
Now those are the stuff of romance novel legend.
“Pretty sure Riley plans to use the fact that The Mia Brady is attending her watch party as social media bragging rights for life, so she might not be too happy if we skipped
it.” Gavin slips his free arm around my shoulder. “But I heard she’s making book-themed snacks.”
“Now that I can get behind.” We stroll toward the house, walking hip to hip, absurdly close yet in sync, and if I had a pen,
the moment would make a damn good metaphor, but I’m learning to soak up life and not hoard each moment, knowing inspiration
comes when I let go.
An hour later, we’re standing on the threshold of Riley’s place, hand in hand. Gavin tugs me up against him after he rings
the bell, and I rise on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, just as the door opens. Morris groans and shuts it in our faces.
We’re both laughing when the door opens again, and this time it’s Riley. Without hesitation, she waves us in. “Sorry Morris
is a prude.”
“Am not,” he hollers from the kitchen. “I just don’t need further evidence of how happy everyone else is when I’m about to
be subjected to hours of on-screen romantic bliss.”
“His date is a no-show,” Riley explains, leading us through to the patio, where she’s arranged a table of snacks and drinks. A projector screen is set up in the yard, blankets spread over the grass. As much as I love the glitz of Hollywood premieres, this is much more my scene.
“It’s beautiful out here, thank you.” The night is perfect. Warm, with stars twinkling overhead.
“Thank you for not giving up on the book,” she says, pouring two glasses of wine. I reach for one, but she picks both up, clutching
them against her chest. “Nuh-uh, these are mine. I’m going to need both to get through watching Robert cheat on me.”
I chuckle as she goes and sets them on a low picnic table near the screen. Despite Gavin’s worries over us being late, there’s
no one else here yet. After getting our own drinks, I lead him to the blanket farthest from the screen. Riley puts on the
season trailer to test the projector, and I grab a pillow and wrap it around my ears, eyes squeezed shut. “I know I said I
could do this,” I say, probably speaking too loudly. “But I can’t, it’s too much.”
Gavin gently peels the pillow away from one ear. “Would it help if I played the role of Victor?” He lowers his voice into
a deeper register. “Sydney, you’ve got to get into character. We need—”
I let go of the pillow and shove it at his chest instead. “What have I told you about quoting my books?”
Shifting into his normal voice, he says, “We could go home if you want. But, Mia, look,” he says, nudging me. I lift my eyes
to the screen, but he shakes his head, gently turning my chin so I’m looking at the house, where a group of Riley’s friends
are coming out onto the patio.
Huddled by the snacks, they’re focused on the screen, nudging each other when Victor whispers in Sydney’s ear. “They’re here
because of you. It’s okay to be proud of yourself. I couldn’t be prouder.”
He kisses my jaw, and my eyes drift shut. The next kiss parts my lips, and it’s not a novel-ending, happy-ever-after kiss. It’s a here-and-now, trust-in-us kind of kiss.
We break apart when the preview ends, plunging the yard into silence. A clap goes up from the new arrivals, and it hits me
that this is what I worked for. This is why I never gave up. Because stories like this give people hope and happiness.
I wrote and rewrote until Sydney realized that letting down her defenses didn’t leave her open to loss. It opened her up to
love. I wrote my heart out so Jayla and Rob could get the spotlight they deserved. For the fans who’ve been with me since
day one to get the story they craved. To hold up my end of the bargain for everyone who works on my books and the show’s cast
and crew. To prove to myself I have the power to write my own happy ending.
Morris comes over, plate stacked high with food. He’s watching Riley with open interest. She’s posing for a selfie with Robert’s
face on the title screen, angling her body to conveniently block Jayla. “She does know they’re engaged, right?” Without waiting
for our answer, he sets his plate on a blanket and strides over, beckoning for the phone to take the picture for her.
Gavin chuckles. “Guess it’s not the worst thing his date didn’t show.”
“I think they’d be a good match.”
“But, Mia, they’re friends,” he says, in a tone that insinuates, the horror .
I elbow him. “People can change their minds, you know. I came up with that theory when I was twenty-one.”
“I’m just glad you’re so open-minded it only took nearly a decade to revisit your conclusion,” Gavin says, mischief sparkling
in his eyes. Then he pulls me close and brushes his lips against my cheek. “I wish I’d known how to tell you how I felt back
then.”
I’ve wondered if he has regrets. It would be understandable, knowing he had feelings for me and kept them bottled up.
But I’m grateful for our years of friendship, just as grateful as I am for this new phase in our relationship.
I’m not sure I could love him as deeply as I do now without first learning how to love him without reservations.
“I wish I hadn’t let worries of how we’d end up cloud things at the beginning,” I say, searching his expressive blue eyes.
“But I can’t regret a single moment of our friendship.”
“Regret?” His face clouds over, and he rests his hand on mine. “I don’t regret a minute we spent together. All I’m saying
is I wouldn’t mind a few more kisses to look back on.”
“Kisses, huh?” I thread my arms around his neck, fully aware we’re on a lawn full of people, but no longer afraid they’ll
see just how hard I’ve fallen for the man I swore I’d never date. “Guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.”
“Nothing’s ever been lost between us. I’m just glad we found our way to this.”
“What a line.” Morris’s voice comes from above, and I look up to find him standing over us, hand pressed to his heart. “Mia,
you’d better watch your back. This dude is coming for your job. The poetry.” He staggers back, like he’s swooning, and I laugh.
“Always room for more voices in romance,” I say.
Gavin grins, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. “Think I’ll stick to cheering you on from the sidelines. But if you
ever need a new assistant...” He pauses for dramatic effect. “I am not the man for the job.”
With a laugh, I shake my head. “Workplace romance, fish-out-of-water... We don’t need those tropes. Give me friends-to-lovers
any day.”
“Next you’re going to be getting matching friendship bracelets,” Morris says with mock disgust, and Gavin gives him the middle
finger, but his eyes never leave mine.
“I wouldn’t mind getting matching jewelry someday,” he says, his smile turning into something private and sincere. He lowers his hand to capture mine. “Not that we need to talk about it now.”
I lock my fingers with his. “We talk about everything, Gavin. Why would our future be any different?” That’s when I realize
I haven’t lost my best friend, I’ve just found a new way to love him.
*****