Chapter 58
FIFTY-EIGHT
ANDY
A year and a half later
"Thank you all for being here. If you'd please form a single-file line this way, Andy will be happy to sign your book." The redhead guides the crowd to line up, her smile never leaving her face as she handles the rowdy crowd of readers who are anxious to meet me and have their books signed.
Brooke has been the most incredible personal assistant, and I don't know what I'd do without her. It's been over a year since we began working together, yet it still feels strange to say I have a personal assistant.
Some days, I feel like I'm living someone else's life. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined I'd be where I am now.
At a book signing.
Not just any book signing.
My book signing on my book tour.
Two years ago, after the worst heartbreak of my life and choosing to put myself first, I sat down at my laptop and poured my heart and soul into writing a book that I considered my trauma dump. I shared the story of the little curly-haired girl who only ever wanted love and acceptance from her drug-addicted mother. And how, one day, she met a boy who changed her life. They fell in love, and it was toxic and beautiful and consumed that girl's soul.
She needed him as much as needed to breathe.
His words saved her life. But her love couldn't save his.
Before I knew it, I had written my story.
Mine and Declan's.
One year after reaching out to as many agents as I could, I found Quinn Black with T House Publishing. Before I knew it, I had an agent, a book deal, and a personal assistant.
My life has changed, and I am now living my wildest dreams.
My debut novel is a deeply personal story of my life. It was released two months ago, and I have been on tour ever since.
It became one of the greatest love stories, instantly hitting all the charts. It's a story that shares that even in the darkest of times, love finds a way to prevail. I may not have gotten my happy ending, but the characters in my book did. They got the best ending possible for their situation.
Sometimes, the imposter syndrome attacks me, leaving me feeling like I'm living someone else's life. Some days, I wake up and pinch myself, unsure if I'm in a dream because, surely, it cannot be real.
Max has enjoyed traveling to all the new cities with me. For her seventh birthday, I took her to Disney World. It was the one thing she'd been asking for, and thanks to our new financial situation, I no longer have to deny her the things she wants in this life. Thankfully, it's summer, and she's out of school, so she's been able to travel with me.
She'd been excited to visit New York with me. She's currently with her nanny, exploring the city while I'm here at my signing.
Can you believe it? I, Andy Harris, of small-town Loganville, the girl who used to grocery shop at the Dollar Store and eat mystery meat packets for a dollar, has a fucking nanny.
Talk about a mind-fuck.
Did I mention we no longer live in Loganville? We moved to Las Vegas when I received the first check for my book. I enrolled my girl in private school, started a savings account, and now we travel as much as possible.
We have yet to leave the country, but that's on the list. Max made a list of places she wants to go, and so far that list consists of visiting every Disney location worldwide.
When it's time for me to come out, Brooke gestures me over and introduces me to the crowd, giving me a round of applause.
I smooth my clammy palms over my black and white jumpsuit. Taking a deep breath, I hold it for a few seconds to calm myself. No matter how many of these signings I've done, it still feels like the first.
Sometimes, I feel like I don't belong and must look around to ensure security isn't hiding somewhere to escort me out.
That hasn't happened yet, so this must be real life.
The line of people spreads throughout the entire bookstore and out the door. Every stop on this tour has been like that. Countless faces. Countless books signed.
I'll never be able to wrap my head around the fact these hard-working folks are spending their money on my book and taking time out of their day to come and see me to get the book signed.
That's fucking crazy!
Do they know I'm just an ordinary person?
When Brooke recommended that I create a social media account for my writing career and a reader group for a place where my readers can interact, I swore no one would want to join or follow me.
Damn, had I been wrong.
Every time I open my social media, there are endless messages from readers telling me how much they loved the book and how they were able to relate. The fact anyone can relate to my words is a feeling I'll never be able to describe .
People have shared their own stories with me about either themselves having been an addict, or someone they love.
I'm just a small-town girl who doesn't feel worthy of having such an incredible reader base. But I'll never take a single moment for granted.
Taking my seat behind the table, a bright smile lights up my face as the first person steps forward, and I grab a book from the stack and personalize it to her before signing my name at the bottom.
An hour later, my hand is aching, but I'll never tire of doing what I do.
Before the next person steps forward, I grab another book from a box underneath the table. Sitting up, I set the book on the table without looking up, grab my marker, and open to the title page.
I look up, ready to greet the next person and ask who they'd like me to make it out to, but words fail me at the sight of the person I least expected to see.
My heart skips a beat.
Declan stands in front of my table, tattooed hands in his pockets, a grin on his lips as he stares down at me with that same intense gaze he's always had.
"Hey, Mama," he draws out, his voice raspy as if he hasn't spoken in a while. Chills race through my body at the sound of his voice, and goosebumps form on my skin.
God damn, he looks good. The pictures I've seen didn't do him any justice.
I've followed his career since our break-up. Since it was made public and all over social media, I also know he went to rehab.
Eight months ago, Riot finally went on tour. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't watched videos online and followed Declan closely, needing to know how he was doing with the tour and hoping I wouldn't find a video or news article about him relapsing again.
I'd also be lying if I said I hadn't known Riot had performed in New York last night. I knew they were here.
Knew he’s here.
But I also knew it didn't matter because I couldn't go to him.
It's been two years, yet I've never stopped loving him, and I don't think I ever will.
No matter what we'd like to believe, love doesn't always come with a happy ending. Sometimes, you put in the work and do everything you can, but in the end, it doesn't matter.
Our relationship wasn't for nothing. There were things I learned from it. But in the end, it wasn't our time.
Declan and I had a whirlwind romance. He will forever be the first and only man I've ever and will ever love. But we met at the wrong time.
His love for me wasn't enough to steer him away from his path of self-destruction. The demons that haunted him were too strong, and he wasn't able to fight them.
In the end, I had to choose myself and let go. No matter how much my soul ached, I had to let him go.
Foolishly, I wanted to be the one to save him, the one to rid him of his demons. But the only one who could save him was him.
I wanted someone to love me more than they loved getting high. More than the feeling you'd get after the first hit from that little glass pipe, those little white lines, or even the needle in the vein. I wanted to be the only drug he'd ever need.
In the end, I realized I couldn't be anyone's savior.
I needed to save myself.
I let him go.
Finding my voice, I whisper a breathy, "Hi." My eyes wide, unwilling to blink and risk this being an illusion.
Declan pulls a hand from his pockets and rakes it through his dark hair, now longer than he used to wear it.
"You can make my book out to Declan. But you might need to get a new one." My brows furrow as I look down to see what he's looking at. On the front page is an ink stain from where I'd been holding the metallic marker tip against the page .
Groaning, I set the book to the side, grab a new copy, then quickly sign it before sliding it across the table toward him.
Declan grabs the book, a grin on his lips as he salutes me with it, then walks away backward, eyes on me for several steps until he turns, facing forward, and disappearing into the crowded line at the register at the front of the store.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
By the time the signing is over, my heart is still racing at remembering the sight of Declan standing there. One look into his eyes had stolen the air from my lungs.
After helping Brooke clean up our signing area, I grab my purse and pull the strap over my shoulder before stepping outside. Phone in hand, I send a text to Molly, Max's nanny, to find out where they're at.
Spotting the shadow of a figure near the entrance, I look up, eyes widening at the sight of Declan. One hand was shoved in his pocket, the other holding the shopping bag from the store. He leans against the brick building, a smirk on his lips.
"You're still here." I exhale. Shoving my phone into my pocket, I walk toward him until we're standing toe to toe.
"I wanted to wait until you were done." A slow smile spread across my lips, heart pounding in my chest. "Want to grab a cup of coffee?"
My mind is racing. The sight of him mixed with the spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne sends mixed signals to my brain.
The chime of my phone breaks our staring contest, and I quickly pull it from my moment, seeing a new text from Molly.
Molly
Back at the hotel. Max is passed out in my room. Want me to bring her over to yours?
Me
No. Keep her with you. I'll see you both tomorrow .
Attention back on Declan, he nods toward my phone. "Gotta be somewhere?" he asks, dark eyes full of questions and something else I can't quite make out. I feel his eyes on my body, taking in every soft curve of my body that hasn't changed much over the last two years.
Suddenly, it doesn't matter that we've been apart for two years. This is the man I've loved every second of every day, and if we only have one night together, I don't want to waste it.
"I know a place that has the best coffee."
"Oh, yeah? Where?"
"My hotel room," I say bluntly, watching his surprised reaction.
Pushing off the building, he steps toward me until my breasts are brushing against his chest. "Let's go then, Mama."
He hails us a cab, and an hour later, we're tumbling into my hotel room, lips locked, hands grabbing at each other.
Declan doesn't waste a second, slipping his tongue between my lips and ravishing my mouth while our hands furiously tear at each other's clothing.
He only breaks our kiss once we're both naked and standing in front of each other, my eyes instantly going down to his stiff cock between us, a smirk on my lips at the sight of my name still tattooed along his shaft.
Reading my expression, he wraps a fist around himself and strokes. "Did you think I'd get rid of it?"
Eyes finding him, I shake my head. I wasn't sure what he'd do, but removing it never crossed my mind. Besides, I'm not sure if it is possible to remove a tattoo on a penis.
His dark gaze roams over my body, eyes savoring every groove of my figure. A growl escapes his throat, hands grabbing my waist and pulling me into him, hot, wet kisses trailing along my neck.
When he raises his hands to cup my face, the flash of purple captures my eyes. I grab his left wrist, turning it over to see his newest tattoo.
On the inside of his wrist is a purple heart, the drawing familiar. Beneath the heart, is a semi colon.
"Oh my God." I gasp, eyes finding his, needing an explanation.
A shy smile creeps over his lips. "It's the purple heart Max drew on all of those get-well cards she'd made me. I got it tattooed after I got out of rehab as a reminder of what I lost and that my time with both of you was real. It’s my reminder to keep going." Just when I thought I couldn't love him more, he says that.
I grin, turning my back to him, and pull my hair away from my left shoulder. The same tattoo is on the back of my left shoulder.
"I got it after my mom died," I confess, heart aching at the memory.
Declan doesn't say anything as he steps toward me, warm lips kissing over the purple heart. His arms wrap around my waist, fingers tweaking my nipples as I become putty in his hands. Familiar calloused fingers trail down my body and to my pussy, a finger circling my aching clit.
My head falls back on his shoulder, tilting to look up at him as he plays with my body. His lips connect with mine, and our tongues tangle as he plunges two fingers inside of me and fucks me with them until I'm crying out my release.
I've no sooner come down from the high of my release when he picks me up, carries me to the bed, spreads my legs, and buries his cock so deep inside my pussy in one thrust that I see stars.
My pussy is still spasming from my orgasm as he fucks me, our eyes never leaving each other, each of us savoring this moment.
Unspoken words hang in the air.
Where do we go from here ?
Is there a chance for us?
Do you still love me?
I swallow the questions I want to ask him, choosing to be in the moment rather than worry about the future and what this moment means.
For tonight, he's mine.
Declan raises my legs, ankles on his shoulders, as he stands at the edge of the bed, fucking me with everything he's got. The roughness has screams falling from my lips, eyes threatening to roll into the back of my head permanently.
We come together, my release drowning his cock while his cum floods my pulsing pussy.
My legs slip off his shoulders as he lies on top of me, still buried deep inside of me.
"So, want to grab some smash burgers?" he asks, a loud laugh escaping me.
He's still buried inside of me, and our cum is dripping out of me, and he's asking about getting food.
God, I fucking love this man.
"Yeah, that sounds good.”