I Write Romances, Not Live Them

Epilogue

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." - Robert Frost

584 Days Later. . .

I stood at times square, frozen by a crosswalk as I stared up at it. The large and glowing sign that had my book cover flashing on it and large letters exclaiming "Princess Charming opens at number five in the Times!"

It had been out for less than twenty-four hours and the buzz had only begun. Releasing a new book is like an all-time sugar high. I beamed at it for a moment until a hand pulled on mine.

"Ad, come on, Amy wanted us to be early." Henry urged as he pulled my small hand harder from where I stood.

"But we're already late." I joked, puffs looking like smoke came out of my mouth and the chill set in my skin. I let him pull me along the busy sidewalk.

"Just more reason to hurry up!" he pressured, and I let him tug me behind as I continued to gaze up at the big screen, a strange sensation bubbling in me. Like I could break out into a one-woman flash mob.

Henry's hand kept tight around mine, so much bigger. He's always way taller than me, but I like the size difference, I feel safe. Our fingers interlaced just right, and the idea that Elliot had proposed months ago that we were an awkward couple seemed distant. Nothing about being with Henry was ever awkward. It all felt just right.

He picked up pace as we arrived to the location Amy had specified, just outside of a morning news station, she had arranged a segment so I could publically comment on the release of my new book and accept questions. It was all for publicity, adding even more kindle to the fire.

We arrived ten minutes late, but it might as well have been an hour for Amy. She was pacing rapidly and strands of her wild brown hair was even more out of place than usual. I thought I should really stop being late and stressing her out, then I remembered that by normal time constraints, we were still fifteen minutes early. Her royal purple dress coordinated with my purple jeweled necklaces and studded shoes. She always planned things like that.

When I had filed a personal request to Little Black Book almost a year ago, they had given me two lists of names and descriptions, one for an editor who would be somewhat removed from the writing equation, and a personal agent. Both jobs had been the responsibility of Elliot and the executive I had never met who also dealt with other authors. It was all very exciting and the list was long. I'd chosen Amy based on job experience, age, and personality. We got along famously. She was one of my biggest fans and closest friends.

And when she chewed me out her British accent showed even more.

Which is always fun.

"You're late," she scolded, leading me through the doors and a series of halls. The hardest part had been breaking the news to Elliot after I was three-quarters into my book. He'd been even more upset than I thought. Most likely because Marissa had dumped him three days beforehand. Last I heard he was involved in fantasy and considering switching to a new branch in Chicago, living as a bachelor.

"Sorry, I got a little distracted by the ten by twenty foot book cover flashing outside."

Her hand was the small of my back as I was ushered into the makeup room and sat down. Henry stood away like he always did, watching and being there for me with a smirk on his face.

"It's to be expected, like it or not, you're famous. People have been waiting two years for another book. There will be a lot of questions as to what the heck you were doing that whole time. Not to mention the ordeal with Sophie."