“You want to know what comes after the epilogue?”
“What?”
“A new book filled with endless possibilities.”
Cage peeked around the corner, blowing the swirling steam from his cup of coffee. “Good morning.”
I pressed my hand gently to my chest. Something as imperfectly perfect as our journey to that point passed between us without a word. I saw the recognition in his eyes. He knew I remembered… and he smiled.
“I’m your new book. I’m your endless possibilities,” Iwhispered with the last bit of breath I had left after that realization knocked it from my chest, leaving my heart swelling with so much love.
“You are.”
I cleared my throat, mustering something resembling an actual voice. “Do you feel it?”
“Feel what?” He sat on the edge of my bed.
“My heart beating in your hands.”
Cage looked at me, more like through me. After a few moments… he nodded.
That man—theone of my dreams. He flew to Beijing to kiss me. Then he traveled to Los Angeles to reallysee mefor the first time. My mom used to tell me to stop wishing my life away because the beginning and end were separated by nothing more than a blink. With Cage, I refused to blink.
“I can carry you.”
I laughed as the driver pulled up in front of the hotel. “I can use the crutches. I need to get used to them anyway. I’m not going to be able to use my prosthetic legs until the burns on my leg heal a little bit more, at least until the blisters heal.” I nodded toward his door. “Fans in L.A. Impressive.”
Cage sighed. “Photographers. Not fans. Maybe there’s a back entrance.”
“Why? You embarrassed to be seen with me?” I perked a brow.
He smirked. “For the love of God, have you even looked in a mirror?”
I laughed. “I’m sure they’ll spin it. Lake Jones, girlfriend to Minnesota’s quarterback, suffered severe burns and loss of alimb in a meth lab explosion.”
“Flint would love that. Come on, crispy.” Cage hopped out and walked around to my side, opening my door while the two guys with cameras flashed a few shots.
“Cage, what happened to your girlfriend?” one of them asked.
I eased out as Cage held my crutches out for me.
“Nothing.” He winked at the photographer with a cheeky grin. “Why do you ask?”
He could have ignored the photographer’s question or said it was none of their business.
I grinned when Cage’s smiling face focused back on me.
“Got it?”
I nodded, smiling through the pain while the cameras clicked again and again.
“What brings you to L.A.?” the same photographer asked me.
“Sex on the beach.”
Cage adjusted his baseball cap low on his face, either to hide his amusement or embarrassment. I couldn’t tell.
“Sex on the beach?” he asked after we left the reporters behind.
