Epilogue - Trevor
The hum of excited chatter fills the convention center, a sprawling space alive with energy. Rows of tables are lined with glossy book covers and smiling authors, and the air is thick with the distinct scent of new paper and freshly brewed coffee. Fans clutch tote bags bursting with books, some jittery with nerves as they clutch tickets for autographs. It’s Brooke’s moment, and I can feel her nerves radiating despite the confident smile she wears like armor.
Brooke, my Brooke—headliner of one of the largest book signings of the year. “Sophie Quinn” in bold, glittering letters on banners overhead. I can’t stop the grin tugging at my lips as I glance at her, seated behind her booth with a stack of books and her name on everyone’s lips.
She’s radiant. Her red hair catches the overhead lights, glowing like a halo, and her green eyes sparkle with a mix of excitement and nervous energy. She’s signing a copy of Whispers on the Wind for a lady, who’s practically vibrating with joy.
“Thank you so much for writing this,” the lady gushes. “Your books mean the world to me. ”
Brooke’s smile softens, genuine and warm. “Thank you for reading them,” she says. “You’re the reason I keep writing.”
It’s a simple exchange, but it tugs at something deep in my chest. Seeing her like this—confident, in her element, and finally embracing the recognition she deserves—is nothing short of awe-inspiring.
Beside her, Grace and Charlie are in their element, too, though their “help” is a bit... unconventional. Grace is meticulously organizing the stacks of books while sneakily snapping pictures of a favorite author at the next booth. Meanwhile, Charlie is deep in conversation with a sci-fi author about her favorite characters, gesturing wildly with a coffee cup in hand.
“I swear,” Charlie says, “if you kill off the captain in the next book, I will riot. Like, full-blown riot.”
The author laughs, holding up their hands in surrender. “No promises, but I’ll take your feedback under advisement.”
Grace nudges Charlie, her tone mock-serious. “Can you focus, please? Brooke needs us to be professional.”
Charlie snorts. “Professional? You just squealed like a fangirl when you saw that rom-com author two tables over.”
“Excuse me, I was composed, ” Grace retorts, her cheeks turning pink.
Brooke laughs at their banter, and the sound is like music to my ears. She glances at me, and for a moment, the chaos around us fades. “You okay over there, Dr. Jacobs?” she teases, her voice light.
I step closer, resting a hand on the back of her chair. “I should be asking you that. You’re the star of the show.”
She tilts her head up, her smile reaching her eyes. “Thanks to you.”
“No,” I say softly, so only she can hear. “Thanks to you. You’ve worked for this, Brooke. You’ve earned every second of it. ”
She blushes, the color blooming across her cheeks. “You’re too good to me.”
“Not possible,” I reply, brushing a kiss against her temple.
A fan approaches with a stack of books and a shy smile, and Brooke turns back to her role as Sophie Quinn, the bestselling author. I take a step back, content to watch her shine.
Across the room, the Walking Ladies are stationed near a display, waving at Brooke every so often and holding up signs that read, We Knew Her When! and Hibiscus Harbor’s Own! I chuckle to myself. Never a dull moment with those four.
Grace and Charlie eventually return to Brooke’s booth, their hands now laden with signed books of their own. “Okay,” Charlie says, setting her coffee down. “I’ve officially decided that book signings are my new favorite thing. These people are awesome.”
“Agreed,” Grace says, her eyes shining. “But seriously, Brooke, you’re killing it. Everyone here adores you.”
Brooke ducks her head, looking both proud and bashful. “It’s a little overwhelming, but... amazing.”
Charlie pats her shoulder. “You deserve every bit of it, girl. And don’t think for a second you’re not sharing those advance reader copies with us.”
Brooke laughs, a sound that feels like sunshine after a storm. “Deal.”
As the event continues, I lose track of how many people stop by Brooke’s booth—some to gush about their favorite characters, others to share how her books changed their lives. Through it all, she handles every interaction with grace and kindness, and I couldn’t be prouder.
By the time the event winds down, Brooke looks both exhausted and exhilarated. She leans back in her chair, letting out a deep breath. I crouch beside her, taking her hand in mine. “You did it,” I say, my voice full of admiration .
She looks at me, her eyes softening. “We did it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
I shake my head. “This was all you, Brooke. I just got to cheer you on.”
Her smile turns mischievous. “And carry my book bags later.”
“Gladly,” I say, kissing her knuckles.
As the last fans trickle out, the convention center quiets, leaving behind a sense of accomplishment and possibility. Brooke stands, stretching, and looks around the space, her expression thoughtful.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, wrapping an arm around her waist.
She turns to me, her eyes bright. “That this is just the beginning.”