Epilogue
Isla
My husband is so nervous. He paces outside the Green Valley Bookstore, shoulders slumped as he gnaws on his bottom lip. My back aches, I’m five months pregnant, and in desperate need of a seat. But my big, strong man needs me.
“It’s going to be great.” I step in front of him, stopping his stride. “You’re going to be great.”
“I don’t know what made me think I could write a book.” He spits, not meeting my gaze.
“Because you lived through something crazy and came out stronger on the other side.” I stand on my tiptoes and press a kiss against his lips. “And you’re a really good writer!”
“It’s self-published.”
“Some of the best authors I know are self-published.” Beck grunts, not believing me.
The alley door opens and my brother pokes his head out. “Beck, everyone’s seated.” My husband sighs, giving a curt nod. My brother leaves us outside for one more moment before the reading.
“I love you. You’ve got this. Remember what your therapist says.”
“Controlling everything is impossible, but I can be in control of how I feel and how I act toward others.” He recites in a monotone. I find it hopelessly adorable.
“Yes, baby.” I press my finger into his dimple, then hold the door for him.
The air conditioner hits me like an ice-cold splash of needed relief. At least twenty people are here, ready to listen to Beck read the first chapter of his autobiography. I clasp my hands over my chest and settle into my seat.
My brother introduces Beck to the crowd, and he’s received with polite applause. Everyone remembers the wildfires of that year. Beck opens the book and locks eyes with me before he starts reading. I give a nod and a smile. Beck licks his lips, and he’s off to the races.
Two years ago, the snowstorm locked us into a lifelong relationship I never thought I’d find.
Learning about Beck’s past trauma was the tip of the iceberg.
When he agreed to go to therapy as a contingency for my moving in, I knew we would be together forever.
He went solo, and we also went together, making sure our relationship was built on a solid foundation.
Also, he kept getting agitated when I would move things.
Living on pins and needles was challenging, but Beck has been so open and loving, willing to work on himself so that we can be the strongest couple possible.
I press a hand against my stomach. Our son will be here before you know it. I’m not fully ready, but is anyone? Life’s about risk and reward, letting go of control so that you can allow the good stuff to happen to you.
Thunderous applause concludes Beck’s reading. He’s sweating by the time I reach him. He grabs my hand, his green eyes sparkling. “It went well.”
“Yes, babe. It did.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, then kisses me long and deep—general public be damned. I giggle and bite his bottom lip. “Your public awaits. Time to sign some books.”
Beck lets out a sigh. “Yeah, let’s do this.” He starts to turn but changes his mind. “But just know I can’t wait to get you home tonight. You look so fucking sexy in that dress.” He tries to feel me up, but I grab his wrist.
“Control yourself, sir.”
He huffs out a disappointed sigh, but kisses the tip of my nose before my brother leads him to the signing table. As I watch from a distance, a sense of pride courses through me. The inner strength Beck has shown by letting me in, and now the public through his memoir, is something to be admired.
He looks up at me and winks. I roll my eyes, but as always, my body betrays me. I can’t wait to get home so the man of the hour can lose complete control on me.