Epilogue
I don’t remember when I’ve been more nervous. My palms are sweaty and so is my hairline. This isn’t a hot flash, it’s full out anxiety.
Noah rests his hand on my knee as it bounces under the table.
“You’re going to put a hole in the floor,” he says, the gold band on his finger catching the light.
“Why don’t you get nervous like this?” I ask.
“Who says I don’t? I used to physically get sick before I did a book signing. You’re in a unique position,” he says looking at the line that has formed down the street from my quaint store. “Most authors have book signings that no one shows up to. Your first book signing looks to be an epic event.”
“Sure, not because of the book though.”
He snorts out a laugh. “USA Today Best-seller on your debut novel, that’s nothing to scoff at.”
“They’re here for my celebrity husband. I’m married to fucking Noah Carter,” I remind him.
“You sure fucking are,” he says easing in and kissing me softly on the lips.
“I have to open the door now,” Lily says. “Can you two stop making out?”
“I’m going to be sick,” I blurt out the words and Noah pushes a bottle of water in my direction.
“Sip. Breathe. Be amazing.”
He kisses me one more time before he stands and Dorothy slips in and takes his seat.
Noah rests his hands on Dorothy’s shoulders and leans in to her ear. “Take care of my best girl. She’s a star you know.”
Dorothy pats Noah’s hand, but her eyes are on me. “You have excellent taste in wives, my son.”
Noah kisses Dorothy on the cheek. “I sure do.”
He leans in one more time and kisses me. “You’re in good hands. I have to go work the front counter now. My business partner has a book signing to get to.”
Noah gives Lily a nod and she opens the door to the store and Julia directs them in a single line to pick up their copy of my book and head to the table.
I know my husband, the broody thriller writer, just wants me to have my happily ever after in my happy little store surrounded by the people I love the most. He didn’t mention that his newest book, which he wrote in my office, just hit the New York Times Best Seller list this morning, and it hasn’t even released yet.
He didn’t mention it, but I keep up on it.
I know he just wants me to have my moment.
When I look toward the counter, as Dorothy hands me my first book to sign, he winks at me. I couldn’t imagine he could be any sexier than the picture on the back of his books, but with that full beard, he proved me wrong.
And here I thought my bookish love would only bring me happy endings among the pages of books. I was so wrong. Broody authors can also be part of happily ever afters.