I frown and nod. “It’s a little intimidating.”
She squeezes my arm. “You’re going to be amazing.”
“I hope so. What have you been up to?”
“Well, I got a new job at LightStream Productions. We’re shooting a movie a couple of blocks over.”
“Oh fun!”
“It is, but it’s a ton of work. I actually have to head back. I snuck off set just to wish you luck.”
“Thank you.”
Minnie blows me a kiss before running off on her next adventure.
I make my way through the chairs, and before I know it, it’s time to start. I read a few excerpts, ending on one of my favorites.
“Sorcha curtsies, holding out her threadbare slip with both hands, doing her best impression of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. Mickey takes her hand and fits her body close to his at first, then adjusts to a perfect waltzing position. They glide through the room, the walls of the little house fading away, like they’re in a grand palace. The stars out the window are like candles burning; the rustic wood floor has been transformed into marble tile. Sorcha has never felt more lithe on her feet, never felt sexier, never felt so much in love as she does at this moment. She worries there may not be enough room inside her to contain it all—that it may be too heavy, but then she looks in Mickey’s eyes and realizes she doesn’t have to carry it alone.”
The crowd, even larger than when I started reading, definitely a lot larger than my agent and publicist anticipated, claps. Slow at first and then building. My cheeks warm when everyone stands up and continues to applaud. From the back, I hear a low whistle. I look to see Miles banging his hands together like a man possessed. I laugh.
The bookstore owner gets on the microphone. “Wow. I just can’t get enough of Sorcha and Mickey.” She holds up a printed list with a red circle in the middle. “We have a little surprise for you from your agent and publisher. Ms. Ainslie, as of this morning, is a New York Times Bestselling author!”
My jaw almost hits the black and pink tile floor in front of me.Did I hear her right? She hands me the paper, and there it is, printed in black and white. My agent mentioned a surprise at the signing, but in all the excitement, it slipped my mind.
Sorcha and Mickey: A Somewhat True, but Mostly Fictional Love Storyis number eight on the New York Times bestseller list. My eyes go to where I saw Miles in the crowd earlier, but he’s gone. I scan and find him running along the edges in back, trying to find a way to the front.
I leap forward and weave my way through the fans to more cheers. Affectionate hands pat my shoulders, and some of the women hold up their hands for high fives, which I enthusiastically give as I strut through the crowd to Miles.
His eyes are like fireworks. “You did it!”
The smile on my face grows wider, a feat I didn’t think possible. I have no words.
The corner of his lips turns into a playful smirk. “The writer is speechless?”
I laugh.
Miles leans in and whispers, “Let’s give them something to talk about, then.”
He pulls me into his arms, and the applause gets louder. He dips and dramatically kisses me like the end of an old Hollywood movie. All under the fitting painted wall sayingHAPPILY EVER AFTER.
The Q&A and the signing that follows have a celebratory feel. When it’s time to go, Miles takes my hand. As soon as we step outside the store, I pull out my phone. “I have to call my dad. He’s going to be so excited. I’ve been dying to tell him since I heard the news.”
Miles is nodding. “Yes, of course.” But something about him seems nervous, and he’s texting. Probably work stuff.
Dad picks up on the first ring. I hadn’t even thought about what time it must be there.
“Pet, is everything all right?”
I nod and realize he can’t see that. “More than all right. Dad, I have some very exciting news.”
“Ahh, so Miles finally did it?” Dad yells to Thora in the background. I can’t make it all out. “I wondered what the holdup was. He asked me for my blessing ages ago.”
“Your blessing?” More indistinct chatter in the background, but I don’t wait for an answer. “Dad, I’ll have to call you back.”
Miles is running his hand over his face and shaking his head.
A smirk pulls at my lips. I knew it. I knew Miles Casey was up to something. “Miles, my dad said something about you asking for his blessing? What do you think he means? What could you possibly need his blessing for?”
