What's Mine | ✓

epilogue

I was nervous.

Man, I was nervous.

My eyes scanned the crowd, waiting until I found exactly who I was looking for.

"Mr. West, this painting is exquisite," a woman dressed in a red, floor-length gown says, tipping her glass towards it. "Quite remarkable, really. I haven't seen this kind of raw talent in...well, ages."

"Thank you," I say mindlessly.

My attention was elsewhere.

"I think I may take it," she sips on her champagne. "I have a perfect spot for it, beside my bed."

I roll my eyes. I had no interest in what this woman was suggesting at all. I politely excuse myself, making my way to the balcony for some fresh air.

I know she said she'd try to make it, but with our busy schedules, I can understand why she wouldn't be able to. I really do. But I mean, I was dying to see her again.

"My my, Mr. West," I hear from behind me. "Quite the turnout, I see."

I whip around, my heart skipping a beat. My goodness, she's still gorgeous.

After all this time together, she's still beautiful, still manages to knock the air out of my lungs. My palms are sweaty, words catching in my throat. I blink, taking her in.

Lina West is the most beautiful, stunning woman on the planet. Her blonde hair was passing her shoulders now, much longer than the last time I saw her in person. Body curvier, eyes shining at me. She was absolutely glowing.

Fuck, my heart can't stop racing.

"Only one person who matters, Mrs. West," I grin, stepping towards her. "And she finally just arrived."

"Oh, she did? Should I be jealous?"

"I wouldn't bother. She already has all my attention."

Lina steps, closing the distance between us. "Lucky girl."

"Luckier guy," I snake my arm around her waist. I pull her flush to my chest, electricity shooting through our bodies. The feel of her pressed against me after all these months has my heart racing and my dick hardening. "Hi there."

"Hi," she wraps her arm around my neck. "Missed me much?"

I push her against the brick, making her feel me. "You could say that."

Lina, after many years of convincing, finally listened to me, tried her hand at writing. She didn't think she had what it took—to successfully take someone into a world she created and let them get lost in it, the way she loses herself when reading.

But I knew she did. I always knew she could.

And when she finally finished a few chapters, I couldn't let her stop. She kept writing and writing and she finally finished her love story about two people, who couldn't be more different, finding love within each other.