When Bexley's editor Eva Mellon tries to dig up secrets on an impromptu 'Office Romeo', whose oblivious 'Juliet' stands in the way of 'her forever' with fellow colleague Josh, she finds herself eerily attracted to the no-nonsense, intimidating (but...
"I invite the bestselling, young adult author himself to enlighten us with the 'how' and 'why' and 'where' of the story. For the 'what' part, we have hot copies off the press for everyone!
Without any further ado, please put your hands together for Sparks AKA 'Mikhail Starkovich'," I said, and the spotlight focused on Mikhail. He wasn't smiling anymore. I walked to him, giving him a firm squeeze on the shoulder, and he nodded.
"You have got this. Just breathe." I whispered in his ear with a smile.
"Hi everyone! I know you didn't expect a middle age man to walk in and say, Hey! I wrote those swoon-worthy romances. Especially when he has bad humor and wears cashmere sweaters, eh?" He said, laughing at his joke, and the crowd joined. So far, so good.
"Ladies, boys, and non-bis... I am sorry, pals! I have been in hiding, but I am not sorry for breaking your heart with my stories. That's something that I am very proud of because only a broken heart can truly respect art. No cliche intended!" I could listen to this all day long. Sparks was my favorite writer too!
"The inspiration for 'Maybe, meant to be' is very personal, and after many years, I dare to show my face because I happen to meet my muse when I was in Seattle!" Mikhail said. I didn't know it was going to be so interesting.
"Martha, my first childhood crush, lifelong college friend, and ex-fiance, if you are listening to this, know that I still love you." He said, and the crowd went all 'Aww'! Ah! I can't ever get enough of real-life romances. When I am back in Seattle, I will tell Martha that her favorite author's muse shares her name! She'd be overjoyed.
"After the personal declaration of love, let's get to the good part, if there is one. I'd let you decide that, of course. 'Maybe, meant to be' follows the story of a young couple with nothing in common except their faith in love. When you walk out and pick up a copy of my book, I would like you to sit with an open mind and not judge the characters. We do that a lot with real people, spare the fiction, please!
I would love you to question your notions of love. One of which happens to be if love has to stay confined to ages, sexual orientation, race, or maybe time itself!" He said with a wink.
"And something that I have learned, and talked about a lot with my editor...Miss Mellon there, give me a cheer...". He said, and I waved at the crowd.
"Sometimes, if not often, hate is love forgotten bad.
I would end this at that. Give it a thought, and question love because without questioning- it never makes sense!" Mikhail said, and the crowd broke into applause.
I took over the mic, "Thank you, fellow readers and writers! You have been a great audience! Don't forget to get your copy of 'Maybe, meant to be..." I said, expecting the lights to go off and the curtains to draw in. But they don't.
I could hear the sound of cymbals. Then there were drums, and then the guitar. What was going on? I turned around to see Will on the stage. Holy Crap! What was he doing there, dressed in an all-blue tuxedo?
"I apologize for the change of events! Not really." He said with a wink as his voice echoed through the auditorium.
What was he up to?
"I won't give a long speech... Mikhail has done a pretty good job with that." He said, and a smile flashed on his lips, and I could hear the girls scream. Okay, gals, I know he is all that hot!
"Eva..." He said, turning to me. His eyes were dark and shining with mischief as he walked toward me.
I expected him to walk further, but when is an inch away from me, he bent, getting on his knees, and I gasped. Will pulled out a tiny box, opening it as he looked into my eyes.
"Evangeline Mellon, will you please make me less than half a moron and marry me?" He asked, offering me the ring. I found myself dumbfounded. I got on my knees, looking for his grey eyes. Fucking Turner was still taller than me!
"Only if you stop supporting Yankees in every match they have against Fordshire..." I said, letting out a chuckle, and his face dropped.
"You're kidding, right?" He said, looking for answers.
"No, I am not." I teased.
"Fuck. Okay, I will try. Will you marry me?" He asked, a little flustered.
"Of course, dumbass. I'll marry you!" I said and pulled him into a hug.
"You didn't have to go overboard with the proposal!" I said as he slipped the ring on my finger.
"Says the one who put it on the bucket list." He said, and I winked.
"Number 2: Kiss your wife in public. Do it, Will!" I said, looking into his eyes.
"You don't have to ask!" He said, and I felt the familiar taste of mints on my tongue, and I bet I tasted like lemons. But did it matter? Never. I let myself float with Will as the crowd cheered.
"You know, I still love your shampoo." He whispered.
"So you're not going to say it first?" I frowned.
"Only this once." He smiled.
"I love you, Tyranny Turner, slash husband," I said.
"I love you, Queen, slash wife." He said.
"Forever?" I asked.
"I am afraid a little less than forever." He said, and I buried my face in his chest.
"Perfect!"
#THE END
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