My rickety table had been replaced by a stunning curved wooden desk. Its rich gold stain gleamed in the afternoon light. Under the lip of the top was a carved piece of trim that readHappily Ever After Starts Here.
“Cam,” I whispered.
“You like it?” he asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice for almost a full minute. “I love it. I love you.”
“Thank God,” he said, reeling me in for another embrace, another smoldering kiss. “Because I already moved all my stuff in.”
“Enough of the sexytimes. Mom and Dad are here. Celebratory drinks on the deck,” Laura called from the hallway.
“More sexytimes as soon as we get rid of them,” Cam promised.
“A lifetime of sexytimes,” I agreed.
That evening, after celebratory drinks, sexytime, and a thorough exploration of the steam shower, Cam and I ventured out onto our new deck. Meetcute the puppy and DeWalt the cat—named after Cam’s favorite brand of tools—stretched out at our feet. My limbs felt loose and heavy. My head felt light. And the ring on my finger felt like a steadying anchor holding me in the moment.
A shadow passed over the string lights in the twilight. Goose the eagle soared by and tipped his wings in a birdlike salute.
“I’m going to have to step up my game,” I whispered from under Cam’s arm.
“What game?” he asked, rubbing his lips over my hair.
“My fictional happily ever after game. You out–grand gestured every hero I’ve ever written.”
“Damn right I did. Get used to it.”
EPILOGUE
HAZEL
A lot can changein a year.
Or thirteenish months to be exact…ish. For instance, a dejected, mojo-less rom-com author from the “big city” can find said mojo, fall in love, get married, and end up standing onstage in front of her entire town at the Second Annual Fall Fest to accept the first-ever Hazel G. Hart Community Service Award.
The G stands for Gillian, by the way. I should ask my Mom why Gillian when she arrives next week with the swarthy Stavros, who turned out to be a big Greek teddy bear of a man.
And the guy I married? The one who made me realize I hadn’t had my first real shot at “the one” yet? The one who continues to wake me up sexily almost every morning. The one who added a gigantic meat smoker to my outdoor appliances without asking me was sitting in the front row looking proud and a little turned on.
His name is Marco.
Just kidding, folks. It’s Cam. Campbell Michael Bishop of the Story Lake Bishops.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but he’s gotten even more handsome than the first time I saw him. Of course, I was bleeding from a head wound and screaming a lot then.
There’s been less of both of those things since. But more of other things. Good things. Like a pontoon boat namedThe HEAwith an accessibility ramp. And weekends at Story Lake Farm Sanctuary. And completing our foster parent application. And this morning’s pregnancy test, which I hadn’t gotten around to mentioning to the aforementioned handsome husband.
My Cam-inspired book hit number one on theNew York Timesbestseller list and continues to sell like hotcakes. Are hotcakes the same as pancakes? Asking for a friend. Cam was very popular on tour.
Meetcute and DeWalt continue to entertain us every day. DeWalt naps on my desk, snoring audibly, while Meetcute sleeps on my feet, farting…also audibly…and scentsily. Bertha loved her outdoor raccoon house so much that she had four baby raccoons in it.
Of course, it hasn’t been all rehomed wild animals and glitter. There was a lot of hard work. I’d written two more books, and business was booming for Bishop Brothers. And there was still the occasional argument. But with a hardheaded new-to-relationships guy like Cam, that was to be expected.
I was still working out a few kinks too. Trying to take more of an actively participatory role in life instead of just watching everyone else for inspiration. I was teaching creative writing classes at Story Lake Haven, the new assisted living facility, which turns out to be a wholeotherstory. But Zoey is the heroine of that particular tale, so I’ll let her tell you.
Darius went off to college, leaving Story Lake short one mayor. Cam and his brothers took great joy in nominating and campaigning for Laura, who won in a landslide and is busier than ever with the kids, the general store, her accessibility consulting, and—I don’t want to jinx it, but we’re all friends here so I’m going to say it—the hot trainer at the gym.
Cam’s parents still host Sunday dinners, but Cam and I took over the Bishop Breakfasts. I’m slowly learning how not to burn French toast, and last week’s baked oatmeal was a surprise hit with Laura’s boys. Although there’s a chance they were feeding it to the dogs under the table.
Story Lake is moving forward too. Turns out romance readers are only too happy to vacation all year round in the town I fell in love with. A few of them have even moved here despite the fact that our official town slogan is “Story Lake: Towney McLake Face.”
All of this to say my heart and my home are full. But there’s a lot of space left in both, and I can’t wait to keep filling them up. I’ll keep you posted. But right now, I have to go accept my award and try not to cry off my mascara.
XO,
Hazel
