Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
“How is it you don’t fall down more?” I complained to Nathan as we studied the convention center floor.
How he’d talked me into returning to the scene of the crime—yes, I was at the second biggest reader convention in the United States three years after my greatest embarrassment—was beyond me. I was nervous. Who could blame me? Nathan, however, was his normal self.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” he replied dryly. “I was just making a comment.”
“That all the new romance writers look as if they need to be spanked?” I glared at him. “Sometimes I think you just talk to hear yourself talk.”
He shrugged. “You got yourself a romance writer for life. Why shouldn’t I get one for myself? You seem to be having fun.”
I was having fun—so much fun I didn’t know what to do with myself.
From the moment Bree and I declared our love, fun had been the name of the game.
We’d kept to our routines for several months.
Nothing changed other than her mother leaving town.
That wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was that Sylvia returned three months later and not on the arm of a man.
She declared she wanted to put down roots.
Bree, of course, hadn’t believed her, but she’d let Sylvia move into her house anyway because that was who she was.
Three months later, Sylvia was still there. Bree was convinced she would leave again. Each day that passed with Sylvia showing no inclination to leave, however, Bree allowed herself to believe a little bit more. Bree swore she wasn’t going to fall apart if Sylvia disappeared one day.
She wouldn’t fall apart. I wasn’t worried about that.
It would hurt, though. I had no idea what was going to happen on that front.
I was just prepared to be there for Bree either way.
Since Sylvia had taken over her house—and was still stalking whatever love interest happened to come along—that meant Bree had essentially moved into my house.
No complaints there. I didn’t mind that there was specialized shampoo and conditioner in my shower or that she’d taken over a corner of the bathroom with her makeup and hair dryer.
I wanted her in my space as much as possible.
More importantly, I wanted her to want to be in my space.
We had decisions in front of us of course. I wanted to buy a new house for both of us, one that was a little bigger and had a room for Sylvia. She vetoed that idea right out of the gate. She said she wanted Sylvia to succeed, and we couldn’t fund her lifestyle to make that happen.
Then I suggested Bree move into my house full-time, and she balked.
She said she’d been hard at work at her house, doing things to drive the board at the Landings crazy.
They kept making new rules, but they couldn’t retroactively apply them to her, so as long as she owned her house, she could keep all her stuff.
It was a game she enjoyed winning, with a little help from Evangeline. They’d become thick as thieves and had coffee once a week since Evangeline had moved back to the community. Evangeline had also become friends with Sylvia and distracted her on a regular basis. It was a win all around.
I’d suggested, since Evangeline was watching her pennies, that maybe Sylvia should move in with her and split the bills. I’d expected that suggestion to be shut down immediately. It hadn’t been, however, and talks had commenced. It might actually work out. Stranger things had happened.
The book-launch tour with Bree had been amazing.
We’d adventured in every city we visited, even if it meant a quick walk around the downtown area and dinner.
We had a great time during our week in New York and took turns picking restaurants.
I still would order something and make Bree try it.
She no longer argued. About fifty percent of the time, she liked the sample.
The other fifty percent was better not to dwell on.
She wasn’t quiet when making her opinion known.
As for writing, I’d finished the first draft of my mystery and was working on polishing it. Bree had done the same with her contemporary romance. We were both starting fresh books in our regular genres and looking forward to writing together again, but we’d come to an agreement.
As nervous as we were about branching out into something new, we wanted to see what would come of it, so in one month, we were flying to New York together to make our respective pitches to our publishers.
If the manuscripts were rejected, we promised not to take it personally.
In reality, we would both be depressed but would get over it.
There was no reason not to be depressed together.
Fingers appeared in front of my face and snapped, drawing my attention back to Nathan. His glare was pronounced. It matched mine.
“Why did you do that?” I complained.
“Because you went to a very weird place in your head and missed everything I just said,” Nathan replied. “You can’t ignore your best friend. That’s just hurtful.”
“Sorry.”
I was sorry. Nathan had been neglected as a friend for a few months when Bree and I were getting our relationship off the ground. Then we’d settled and stopped being hermits. Things were better now for her friends and mine. Nathan, however, refused to let me forget about neglecting him.
“What were you saying?” I asked.
“I was asking if you have it with you.”
I didn’t have to ask what he was referring to.
I’d brought him in on my plan weeks before to make sure I wasn’t making a stupid choice.
He’d assured me I wasn’t, which was why, in exactly one hour, I would get on one knee in front of Bree, in the panel we were sharing, and propose with the two-carat diamond ring in my pocket.
My father had helped me pick it out. In the past six months, he’d finally taken the time to get to know Bree. Not only did he like her—most of the time, he found her hysterical—but he said the one thing that could be taken as a compliment above all others: “She reminds me of your mother.”
The statement had been a kick to the gut at first. It really hurt. Now, however, I was happy when he said it. My mother would always be an important presence in my life. The fact that Bree was like her was a bonus.
“It’s in my pocket,” I replied, double-checking to make sure I could feel the ring box still there, resting against my thigh. I’d been checking for it every five minutes, even though there was no way it could fall out. The pocket of my cargo shorts had buttons.
“Let me see it.”
I sent him a sidelong glare. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” he wheedled. “You know I like seeing big diamonds. They’re pretty.”
“I am not whipping it out here.” Just as I said it, someone bumped into my shoulder from behind, and I had to look to make sure Bree wasn’t joining us. I would have some explaining to do if it was her.
It was Amy Ryan, which made the interruption worse.
“Sorry,” I said awkwardly.
She glared at me.
“He wasn’t talking about his dick,” Nathan offered helpfully.
I snapped my eyes back to him, horrified. “What did you just say?” I squeaked.
“You said you weren’t going to whip it out here,” Nathan replied calmly. “I just wanted her to know that you weren’t referring to your dick.”
I slapped my hand to my forehead. This day was already going off the rails.
To my surprise, Amy laughed. “I guess I should be thankful for small favors.”
I didn’t respond. I just watched her weave her way through the crowd, which magically parted for her with each step.
“She just assumed you had a small dick,” Nathan said, drawing my attention back to him.
“That’s not what she said.” Wait, was it?
He laughed again. “You’re so easy. I was just trying to calm you down. I don’t expect you to pull out the ring here. Don’t worry.” He hesitated. “Are you nervous?”
I didn’t answer immediately, even though I knew what I wanted to say.
I scanned the crowd for a familiar face, my favorite face, and found it positioned between Hayley and an author I didn’t recognize.
Bree illuminated the entire room with her smile as she told some story and made everybody around her laugh.
As if she sensed I was watching her, she shifted her eyes to lock with mine.
In that moment, I felt all the love and trust we’d built stretch between us like a warm blanket.
There was nobody else there but us for several seconds.
We’d done a lot of growing together. That wouldn’t stop as we moved forward.
“No,” I replied finally, shaking my head. “She’s going to say yes.”
Nathan chuckled. “Of course she’s going to say yes. I just thought that you would be nervous about doing it in front of so many people.”
That was a good point. I didn’t do well in crowds. When Bree and I were together, however, it was as if we were the only two people in the world.
“I think it will make for a great story,” I said. “Nobody will be mentioning my meltdown once today is done. It will be completely forgotten.”
“Sure. Just don’t melt down when proposing. That will make a crappy story if you do.”
I murdered him with a single glare. “Why do you always have to make it worse?”
He shrugged. “That’s what I do.”
I glanced back at Bree one more time. “It’s going to be perfect even if I do screw it up.”
“Because she’s perfect?” Nathan teased.
“Nobody is perfect. She’s just perfect for me.”
“You’ve grown kind of schmaltzy in your old age. I want you to know that.”
“I’m totally fine with that.”
“What are you going to do when she says yes? You guys haven’t figured out your living situation yet.”
Details didn’t matter, only the big picture. “We’ll figure it out.”