Epilogue
Sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains of the hotel room, painting golden patterns across the rumpled bedsheets. Eveline stirred first, her dark hair spilling across the pillow as she turned to find Emery already awake, staring at the ornate ceiling with an unusually serious expression.
“Bonjour,” Eveline said. “You're thinking very loudly for such an early hour.”
Emery startled slightly, as if pulled from deep thoughts. “Sorry! Just… pre-award nerves, I guess.” She smiled, but Eveline noticed it didn't quite reach her eyes.
“You should be celebrating, not worrying,” Eveline said, propping herself up on one elbow. “The Prix Littéraire de Paris for a translation is no small achievement. Especially for a novel about a grumpy French bookseller who falls for a clumsy romance novelist.”
“Pure fiction,” Emery said with a grin, leaning over to kiss Eveline softly. “Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.”
Eveline laughed. “The lawyers made you write that, I assume.”
“Domi insisted. Said I was one bookshop avalanche away from a lawsuit.”
As Emery stretched and climbed out of bed, Eveline watched her with a mixture of love and concern.
Something had been off lately. For weeks now, Emery had been disappearing for hours at a time, returning with vague explanations about “errands” and “research.” Eveline had tried not to worry, they'd promised honesty after all, but she couldn't help wondering.
“I thought we might visit Montmartre this morning,” Eveline said. “Before the ceremony.”
Emery, halfway to the bathroom, knocked over a decorative vase of flowers, catching it just before it shattered. “Whoops! Still got it,” she laughed, righting the vase with water-splashed hands. “Montmartre sounds lovely, but I actually need to meet Domi for a bit. Last-minute ceremony details.”
“Again?” Eveline tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“I promise it won't take long,” said Emery said. “We'll have plenty of time to be tourists.”
As Emery disappeared into the bathroom, Eveline sank back against the pillows. Perhaps she was being oversensitive. After all, this was Emery's first major literary prize. Of course she was preoccupied.
Eveline's thoughts drifted to Abe, whose absence still felt like a fresh wound. He would have loved this, Emery being celebrated in Paris. Part of his inheritance had made this trip possible, a final gift that seemed perfectly fitting.
“He would have insisted on coming,” Eveline said to herself. “Probably would have charmed every Parisian with his dreadful French.”
When Emery emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater that brought out her eyes, she was already checking her phone.
“Sorry, but I really do need to run,” she said, gathering her bag. “Domi's having some kind of crisis with the ceremony arrangements.”
“Go,” Eveline said with a small smile. “I'll explore a bit on my own.”
At the door, Emery paused, looking back with an expression Eveline couldn't quite read. “Tonight will be perfect,” she promised.
And before Eveline could say anything, Emery was gone, leaving only the lingering scent of her perfume.
EVELINE RAN HER along the spines of antique books, inhaling the familiar scent of paper and leather. This tiny bookshop tucked away on a Parisian side street reminded her so much of The Turned Page that she had to smile. Books were her constant, her home no matter where she stood in the world.
“C'est magnifique, n'est-ce pas?” the elderly shopkeeper asked, noticing her appreciation.
“Oui,” Eveline replied. “?a me rappelle ma propre librairie à Londres.”
After browsing the shelves, she selected a beautifully bound edition of Neruda's sonnets in the original Spanish with French translations, a perfect gift for Emery, who still struggled with French but had been making mysterious efforts lately.
Back at the hotel, she carefully wrapped the book in tissue paper she'd brought. Emery still hadn't returned, and the ceremony was only hours away. Checking her watch, Eveline decided to start getting ready. The black dress she'd chosen hung waiting in the closet.
As she applied her makeup, the hotel room door opened with a crash.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Emery called out, stumbling in with her arms full of shopping bags. “The door was heavier than it looked.”
Eveline turned, amused. “Did Domi make you buy all of Paris?”
“Just the good parts,” Emery grinned, looking flushed and happy. She dumped the bags unceremoniously on the bed and came to wrap her arms around Eveline's waist. “You look beautiful already.”
“Flatterer,” Eveline said, but leaned into the embrace. “I've missed you today.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” Emery kissed her shoulder. “But tonight will be worth it, I promise.”
As they finished dressing, Emery grew quiet, fiddling nervously with her earrings.
“Abe would have loved this,” Eveline said softly, watching Emery's reflection in the mirror.
Emery's eyes met hers. “I was just thinking that. He'd probably insist on giving a speech himself.”
“Definitely,” Eveline laughed. “Followed by reciting poetry badly in three languages.”
“I miss him,” said Emery, her voice catching.
Eveline turned and took her hands. “He's here with us. In the best way.”
Emery nodded, composing herself. “You're right. And he'd be furious if we got upset on such a big night.”
“Absolutely furious,” Eveline agreed. “So let's make him proud.”
When they were both ready, Eveline reached for Emery's hand. “Ready for your big moment, Emerald Pearl?”
Emery smiled, but there was that nervousness again. “More than you know.”
THE GRAND HALL of the Bibliothèque Nationale sparkled with chandeliers. Eveline felt a flutter of pride as they entered, Emery's hand clasped tightly in hers.
“It's breathtaking,” Eveline said, taking in the ornate ceiling and marble columns.
Emery nodded, looking slightly pale. “I keep expecting someone to tell me there's been a mistake and escort me out.”
“Nonsense,” Eveline squeezed her hand. “Your book deserves this recognition. You deserve this.”
Before Emery could respond, Domi materialized in a cloud of expensive perfume and authority.
“There you are!” she said, looking unusually flustered. “Emery, we need you backstage immediately. Author things. Very important.”
“Now?” Eveline frowned. “The ceremony doesn't start for twenty minutes.”
“Preparations,” Domi said vaguely, already pulling Emery away. “Don't worry, I've arranged a prime seat for you. Front row, center.”
Emery cast an apologetic look over her shoulder. “I'll see you soon. Very soon.”
Eveline found herself being escorted to her seat by an efficient usher. As she settled in, she watched Domi across the room, phone in hand, gesturing emphatically while speaking in hushed tones.
Strange. Domi was usually unflappable, yet tonight she seemed almost… nervous?
The hall gradually filled. Eveline smoothed her dress, her thoughts drifting to the journey that had brought them here.
From that first disastrous meeting to this glittering night in Paris, their path had been anything but straightforward.
Yet Eveline wouldn't change a single misstep or spilled coffee.
Emery had brought chaos into her orderly life, yes, but also such joy, such unexpected love. For someone who'd once dismissed romance as frivolous fantasy, Eveline now found herself living inside one, and happier than she'd ever imagined possible.
The lights dimmed, signaling the ceremony's beginning. Eveline sat up straighter, her heart swelling with anticipation and pride.
The ceremony commenced with elegant French introductions, each syllable flowing like music through the grand hall.
Eveline leaned forward in her seat, straining to catch every word despite her fluency.
Her attention was so focused on the stage that she barely registered someone slipping into the seat beside her.
“They're so formal, aren't they?” a familiar voice whispered. “Makes our book club meetings seem positively rowdy.”
Eveline turned sharply, astonishment freezing her in place. “Maya? What on earth—”
Maya sat there in an elegant floral dress, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. “Surprise!”
Before Eveline could process this apparition, a gentle tap came on her shoulder. She twisted around to find Jax grinning down at her, her tattoos mostly hidden beneath a sleek blazer. Beside her, looking surprisingly dapper in a suit, stood Ollie, their fingers intertwined.
“Don't tell me you started without us,” Jax whispered.
“How—” Eveline began, but was interrupted by Zara sliding into the row behind them, camera already in hand.
“Perfect timing,” Zara whispered. “I was afraid we'd miss Emery's category.”
Eveline felt dizzy with confusion. “What are you all doing in Paris?” she hissed, aware of the curious glances from nearby attendees.
Maya patted her hand. “We wouldn't miss this for the world.”
“But how did you—” Eveline stopped mid-sentence as understanding dawned. Emery's mysterious absences. The secretive phone calls. The constant meetings with Domi. It hadn't been about the ceremony at all.
“She brought you all here,” Eveline whispered. “She planned this.”
“Would you have expected less from Emery?” Maya said softly. “Always going for the grand gesture.”
Before Eveline could respond, the announcer's voice rose with dramatic flourish, and Eveline heard the words she'd been waiting for: “Le Prix Littéraire de traduction de Paris est décerné à… Emery Parker pour 'La Libraire'!”
Cheers erupted as Eveline's hand flew to her mouth, tears threatening to spill. But whatever Emery had planned, it was only just beginning.
Applause thundered through the hall as Emery made her way to the stage. Eveline watched, heart racing, as her typically clumsy partner managed to climb the steps without incident, though she did nearly drop the crystal award when the presenter handed it to her.