Page 144 of Late Harvest

Bash smiled at his wife. “I hear you’re an expert orthopedist.” He paused. “Time to jump my bones, Dr. Remington.”

Epilogue

Today is going to be a good fucking day.

—From Remy’s Badass Bitch Affirmations

Remy

“And the Oscar for best actor in a leading role goes to…Bash Wheatley.”

Remy’s husband jumped up, throwing his hands to the sky, then burying his face in them. After an emotional moment, he pulled himself together, gave an exalted cry and fist pump, then reached for her, pulling her into his arms and pressing his forehead to hers. “I love you so much, Arabella Remington.”

“I love you, Sebastian Wheatley. And I’m so proud of you.” She kissed him again, tasting the salt of happy tears trickling from those intoxicating brown eyes that always melted her heart. “Now get up there and accept your Oscar.”

Sebastian beamed at her. Squaring his shoulders, he made his way from his front row seat and…transformed into Bash. Except, he was also still her Sebastian. Remy’s heart leapt with joy as she took in the standing ovation that continued as Sebastian practically skipped up the steps and accepted his statue, a look of awe on his face.

“I gotta admit,” he said on a wide grin after the audience took their seats, “this feels fucking amazing. And Oscar is my dream guy. Sorry, Angel,” he teased, winking at her. Remy’s insides did a little happy dance.

Sebastian paused, dropping his chin and collecting himself before lifting his head and finding her. As he always did. “I first learned about this role almost two years ago,” he began, his deep, sexy voice now scratchy with emotion. “From that point on, all I wanted, all I could envision, was playing Bram. First, thank you to Walter Pennyrose for believing in me and putting up with my obnoxious campaigning for the role, and our director, Kate, and my incredible costars, who lifted me on their talented tide. I share this with you, though he’s mine to love.” He dipped the statue into a kiss, laughter rolling through the auditorium.

Silly clown, Remy grinned fondly.

“Unless you live under a rock—which often sounds quite tempting…” the audience laughed, “…you probably know that while I was actively trying to land this role of a lifetime, I met someone.”

Chills erupted on Remy’s arms, her palms still sweating from the nerve-wracking wait to the end of the damn evening to hear Sebastian’s name called. She resisted wiping them on the elegant navy Vera Wang she and her husband had selected for Oscar night during a whirlwind weekend in Manhattan.

“The Paradise that instigated the most amazing time of my life was this movie. But the paradise I found is so much more. It turns out, sometimes the role of a lifetime doesn’t always take place on the silver screen. And while I’m proud of this dude”—he waved the statue—“I’m so much prouder to be your husband. I love you, my queen. Arabella Remington, you are paradise to me.”

Remy wiped her eyes with a tissue handed to her by someone behind her.

Sebastian paused, then, with his impeccable comedic timing, added, “Also, Angel, I think I pulled something in my leg when I ran up the steps here.” He grinned. “Might need you to check it out.”

Remy burst into laughter, blowing him a kiss, her smile coming straight from her battered, scarred, healed heart.

Their late harvest was, indeed, sweet and golden.

What kind of jokes do orthopedic surgeons like?

Oh, anything humerus.

—From Bash’s dad joke collection

PS—My amazing wife, Arabella, loves all my jokes.

Especially my newly expanded surgeon joke repertoire.

Particularly the one I told her just after I gave her a

massive, screaming org—focus, Bash!

Bash

Six months later

In the midday sun, the shady street blazed with the gold, orange, and red of fall leaves. It had taken close to two years to fully design, plan, develop and launch this project.

And today was finally the big day.