Epilogue
Scarlett
One Year Later
I sit cross-legged on the chair in front of my desk in my newly renovated office, typing and deleting, typing and deleting. My hands are shaking so badly that I keep making stupid mistakes. Every few seconds, I glance at the timer I set on my phone. The numbers are moving slower than normal, I’m sure of it. Something must be wrong with it. Ryan’s going to be home any minute, and I can’t wait.
It didn’t take very long after signing my new deal with Anastasios Press for me to move in with him. I spent practically every night at his place anyway, so it only made sense. When Becoming came out, he had the cover—a much better one than the first—framed and hung it in the office, telling me it was my room now.
“Bestselling authors need offices, not desks in bedrooms,” he had said, and that was that.
The press tour was short. I know other outlets wanted to have me, but Trina fielded those calls expertly. And when it was time to pitch another book, she took that on as well. She’s been exactly the kind of agent I always needed—making sure I get breaks and keeping Anastasios in check when they get overeager.
Ryan isn’t my editor anymore, but that’s okay. He still reads every word, and when I turn in drafts, I’m never quite sure what’s mine and what’s his. It’s ours, which is exactly the way I want it.
I take comfort in all of that as I keep watch on the timer. It ticks so slowly.
When it finally rings, I shut it off and rush to the bathroom on shaky legs. And, of course, at that moment, Ryan comes in the front door.
“I brought food,” he calls. I hear him put a crinkly bag down on the counter, then toss his keys aside. “And I have something for you.” He sounds almost giddy, like he can’t wait another minute, either. The parallelism of us both being excited to share something important at the same time scratches a literary itch in my brain. We’re in sync, even when we don’t mean to be.
“Yeah?” I shout back, trying to keep my voice steady. There’s a little kernel of emotion building in me. Joy? Fear? I’m not sure, and it seems too soon to name it. “I have something for you, too.”
I step out into the hallway, and his dark eyes find me immediately. “Hey, beautiful,” he says, and it settles the anxious part inside of me. He comes around and hands me a small, rectangular package that’s been wrapped in newspaper. “I can’t wait. I picked this up today, and I was going to plan something special but…” He shrugs helplessly. “Me first?”
Laughing lightly, I start to carefully open it at the edges. “You got me a book?”
“For part one.” He ticks an eyebrow up, then motions me on impatiently. “Open it.”
“Okay, okay.” I tear the paper off to reveal a hardcover book. The title reads Stories and Second Chances , and underneath is a beautifully illustrated picture of Ryan and me, lying on a blanket in a park with books and open takeout containers of tacos strewn about.
“Oh,” I breathe as I delicately run my fingers over the image. “It’s us.” Looking up at him, all nervousness forgotten, I bite my lip. “What is this?”
Ryan smiles stiffly, like he knows this is a big fucking deal but doesn’t want to admit it. “I’m not the writer here, but I know good stories. I thought ours was a pretty good one. So, I wrote down some of it and hired an illustrator and got it printed. Look inside.”
I have a hard time taking my eyes off him, but his eagerness drives me to crack the book open. Each chapter starts with a beautiful illustration of us, and as I skim through them, I can see all of our best stories are there. Some of the tough ones, too, but that seems right. We’ve been through a lot, and each word has made us—even the hard ones.
When I get to what looks about halfway, I flip a page and am surprised to see a little part of the rest of the book hollowed out. Inside, there’s a gold ring with a single diamond. I take it out of the book, and when I look up, Ryan is on one knee, right there in the middle of his living room.
“Marry me, Scarlett,” he whispers.
“Oh my god,” I breathe. “Are you serious?”
He nods, taking the book from my hands and placing it to the side. He gently takes the ring from my hand, and he slides it onto my ring finger. “This was my mom’s. I want you to have it. I have always known I would marry you, but I kept waiting and waiting for the right time. I can’t wait any longer. Please say you’ll marry me, Scarlett.”
“Of course I’ll marry you,” I say, and in a heartbeat, he’s on his feet, kissing me and laughing.
“I love you.” He presses a kiss to my neck, and my knees go weak. “I love your brain.” Another kiss to my forehead. “I love your body.” Another kiss on my jaw. “I love everything you are.” Another kiss on my lips. “I love everything we’ll be.”
“Speaking of…” It’s now or never, probably. “Can I give you my surprise now?”
He grumbles in protest as I try to extract myself from him. Reluctantly, he lets me go, and I go back to the bathroom. When I emerge again, holding the stick in my hand, Ryan is standing still, gaping at me as if words have failed him.
“Um…” I start, suddenly uncertain. “I know we weren’t planning this. Again.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling, feeling like I might actually cry. I’m happy—I think—but I need him with me this time.
“Scarlett…” He trails off, and his voice cracks. “Is that…?”
I wave the stick back and forth. “Surprise.” And then I grimace at my own inability to do this right. “Ugh. Fuck. You gave me a whole-ass book, and all I can do is pee on something and wave it around like a moron—”
“You’re pregnant,” he says, his voice so full of awe it somehow erases every feeling of doubt I had.
Daring to give him a small smile, still a little afraid that if I let this bliss take hold, it’ll be torn from me again, I nod. “Yeah.” Biting my lip, I will the tears building at the corners of my eyes not to fall. “I’m happy. Are you happy? I really fucking want you to be happy.”
Like a fire has been finally lit under him, he closes the distance between us and sweeps me in his arms. He twirls me around, then sets me on the ground and kisses me passionately.
“Happy?” he asks as he pulls back. He cups my jaw, his long fingers brushing gently against my cheek. “No.” He smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at me. “Elated, maybe. Overjoyed. Jubilant. Ecstatic.” Each word comes louder and more ridiculous until we’re both laughing, breathless and weightless with life and love and joy for this new little thing that’s ours.
He kisses me again, until he finally pulls back to say what I already knew was coming, but I need to hear it anyway.
“ Happy isn’t a strong enough word.”