EPILOGUE
Nine Months Later
“KNOCK, KNOCK!” NOAH’S VOICE called out from the hallway before opening the door to my office.
My eyes burned from being glued to my laptop for the past however many hours, but my latest book was nearly finished. Welcoming the distraction, I looked up from my laptop to see Noah carrying two large boxes.
“Does it look like I need any more boxes in here?” I gestured around the room.
Boxes were piled high in nearly every corner of my new office in Noah’s house. He’d been pestering me about whether I was ever going to get around to unpacking. I simply responded that I’d unpack as the need arose.
Deciding to leave my apartment in Boston and move in with Noah wasn’t as big of an adjustment as I thought it would have been. I’d been practically living at his place anyway. This made it official. I couldn’t have been happier to spend lazy Sundays on the couch with Noah, to welcome him home from a hard day at work with a home-cooked meal, clothing optional.
“No, but I think you’ll want these.” He winked and my eyes widened.
I jumped out of my chair, rushing toward him as he set the boxes on the floor. Grabbing a razor blade off my desk, I made quick work of the tape sealing one of the boxes closed, throwing all the packing materials everywhere.
A smile of satisfaction and accomplishment tugged at my lips as I held my book in my hands. I’d been writing and publishing for over five years. I’d never forget how I felt when I held my very first book. I’d been so proud of finally having a book with my name on it, or my pen name anyway, that I didn’t reflect on everything. Instead of writing what was in my heart, I followed the herd and wrote what was popular, what was trendy. There was no substance to it. But the book I held in my hands now was different. This was all me, a story I wanted to tell.
I’d written my love story.
After considerable thought and support from Drew and Noah, I’d decided to forfeit my contract with my publisher. I didn’t want to write what someone else told me to. I wanted to write what was in my heart. As much as I wanted to publish the first version of Avery and Jackson’s story on my own, after speaking with my agent and having a lawyer review my contract with my publisher, I felt it best to table the book for now so as not to run into any legal problems down the road.
At first, I was upset at the thought of no one ever reading their story because of how personal it was to me. Then Noah had said something that gave me hope.
“They can hold Avery and Jackson hostage, but they’ll never be able to take our love away from each other. That’s the most important thing.”
That was when I knew how to fix this. I didn’t need Avery and Jackson, not when my own love story was even better.
I nestled into the crook of Noah’s arm as we gazed at the cover of my book, my real name on it in big, bold letters. Able to sense what I was thinking, he whispered, “He would have been proud of you.”
“I know,” I responded through the lump in my throat.
If he knew about my alter ego, I’d often wondered if my father would have bragged about me the way he did Drew…if he would have remembered who I was even during those later weeks.
“When did you change the title?” Noah asked, picking up one of the paperbacks in the box. “I thought you were going to call it Confessions of a Reformed Serial Dater.”
“I was,” I admitted. “But I think the new one’s a lot more fitting.” I shrugged, looking at the script of the new title, Writing Mr. Right.
“I agree.” He nuzzled his nose into my hair, inhaling my scent. We’d been living together for nearly three months now, but he still knew how to make me grow weak in the knees to the point of hauling him into the bedroom for another round of “research”.
“Read to me,” he murmured, resting his hands on my hips as we swayed to the sound of nothing and everything all at once.
I closed my eyes, lost in the feel of his warm body against mine. He peppered kisses down my neck and across my nape as I began to recite from memory the first few lines of my book.
“No,” he murmured. “I know how it begins. I want to know how it ends.”
“‘It’s about time you finally came to your senses,’” I said, recalling the last line in the book.
Noah shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Molly,” he replied, his tone sensual as he continued rocking his body against me. When I suddenly no longer felt his arms around me, a void washed over me.
I flung my eyes open. All the oxygen left my lungs and my heart sank into the pit of my stomach when I saw him on one knee in front of me. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a black velvet box. Flipping it open, he revealed a stunning round cut diamond.
My hands trembling, I shook my head. “Noah, please…” I grabbed his elbow and yanked him back up, imploring him with my expression.
“Molly, I thought…” Confusion covered every inch of his body, his mouth agape, his eyes wide with concern, the lines on his face furrowed.
“Noah,” I sighed, then my lips turned up into a brilliant smile. “I don’t want you to look up to me, and I never want to look down on you. For the rest of my life, I want to look beside me and see you there.” I held my left hand toward him. A tear escaped, my heart nearly bursting with love at the thought of waking up every day with this beautiful, caring, passionate man at my side, supporting me, nurturing me, loving me…duck attacks and all.
Relief washed over him, his shoulders relaxing. “I had a whole speech planned, and this is kind of throwing it for a loop.”
“I’ve learned one very important thing this past year,” I began as he held the ring up to my finger. He lowered his lips to mine and slid it into place. Most women would probably be upset they didn’t get some big elaborate speech with a declaration of undying and never-ending love from a man on one knee in front of them. Not me. This moment was exactly as I dreamt it would be.
“And what’s that?”
Grabbing his cheeks in my hands, the sparkle of the diamond catching my eyes, I murmured, “Plans are meant to be broken.”
The End