Chapter 59 Anna
ANNA
TWO YEARS LATER
The goal was simple: pick up crawfish from the seafood market for the Amato family boil and get out before anyone noticed Hollywood’s most recognizable movie star—or, even worse, his bestselling author wife.
Luke and I stood out, but not in the way you’d think.
Luke adjusted his floppy sun hat, a gaudy Hawaiian shirt barely covering his broad shoulders, and oversized sunglasses perched crookedly on his nose. “Do I look inconspicuous?” He tugged at the brim of the hat.
I stifled a laugh. “If by inconspicuous, you mean someone’s eccentric uncle who just won the lottery, then sure.”
He tugged the rim of my baseball cap lower over my face. “You know, you’re my favorite wife.”
We’d been married for six months, but I still loved hearing him call me his wife. “I’m your only wife.”
He grinned and started helping me load bags of crawfish into our driver’s car, the pungent aroma wafting through the humid air.
That’s when it happened.
“Hey. Aren’t you…?” A man holding a glossy magazine with Luke’s face plastered across the cover froze mid-step, squinting at us.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Luke was quicker. Sliding into a deep Southern drawl, he grabbed my arm. “Nope. Just a couple of tourists lookin’ for the airboat tours.”
The man tilted his head. “Airboat tours?”
“Yes, sugar,” I chimed in, batting my eyelashes dramatically. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re late for our swamp adventure.”
The man’s brow furrowed, but he shrugged and walked off.
“Swamp adventure?” Luke teased. He pulled off his sunglasses and hat as we climbed into the car.
“Oh, like ‘just a couple of tourists’ was your finest performance,” I shot back.
He grinned and shook his head. “Aunt Delores better appreciate the effort we put into this.”
“She will. Speaking of, when are we telling her she’s going to be a great aunt?”
“After her first beer,” Luke said with a decisive nod, the corners of his mouth lifting into that lopsided grin that still melted me.
“Our life is perfect,” I murmured, leaning into him. Luke kissed me, and it still sent a thrill straight through me, as if it were the first time.
But the truth is, life isn’t perfect. I mean, we still get rejected.
Luke didn’t get Sexiest Man Alive—again. He lost to some smoldering British actor with cheekbones so sharp they probably came with a warning label.
But hey, we’ll take the Oscar instead—Best Actor for the role based on my book. Gerald Fargo snagged Best Director. It turns out Hollywood loves superheroes with emotional depth, after all.
And me? I didn’t win the Pulitzer Prize for my second novel, a sprawling tale about love and loss in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. But I made it to the finals of the National Book Award. I’ll take it.
Rejection stings a lot less when you know you’re still winning.
So, life’s rejections haven’t disappeared—they never do. But now they’re just small moments, not overwhelming fears. We have our wins, and we have each other.
I finally have the love and fulfillment I was once too afraid to hope for. I finally feel like someone’s most important person. And not just anyone. Luke Fisher’s.
And I’m ready to face life’s rejections and joys with him by my side. Because at the end of the day, those wins—Oscars, National Book Awards, finally making Aunt Delores a great aunt—are sweet.
But the best win of all? We’re together. And that’s a story worth living.
THE END