Epilogue

Six months later

Sara

"I'm going to throw up," I whispered as the makeup person continued to add blush to my cheeks. I looked like a fucking clown. When Easton didn't say anything, I lifted my gaze in the massive and way too overly lit mirror, thankful he hadn't left. Although he'd been plastered with makeup too, his session hadn't taken nearly as long.

"You're going to be just fine. I have faith in you," Easton said.

"Sure I am. Being on the Today show talking about your bestselling novel that you wrote with the love of your life is an everyday thing. Right?"

"You mean New York Times and a Wall Street Journal bestseller?" He grinned as he walked closer.

Goddamn, the man was far too sexy. I groaned as an immediate answer.

"Perfect," the girl said, backing away just as a producer stuck his head into the dressing room.

"Time to go. Are you both ready?"

His question seemed rhetorical. "Sure. I hope you have barf bags ready."

He laughed but I wasn't kidding. Sure, the jet ride had been incredible. I'd never felt so pampered in my life. I'd adored the hotel, the stunning suite overlooking Central Park. And I'd enjoyed every scrap of food we'd had since arriving in the Big Apple, but I wasn't the kind of girl who should be on television. Nope. Not this kiddo.

But here I was being led down a long corridor, passing several of the on-air personalities. Why did it feel as if I was going to drop into a dark hole? Or maybe that's what I wanted.

When we were just to the stage, my lover pulled me by the arm. Without warning, he gave me one big, juicy kiss, sweeping his tongue back and forth for a few seconds.

"Um, Mr. Saint. Ms. Adams. Fifteen seconds until we're back on air."

Easton broke the kiss, winking before leading me to the stage. I was positioned into a chair, a microphone quickly clipped to my blouse. But I was still reeling from the kiss.

"No longer nauseous. Are you?" he whispered.

"Bastard," I said in return.

In the beautiful whirlwind of the last six months, so much had occurred. Even before we'd finished the book, the bidding wars had started from the various publishing houses. In the end, the seven-figure advance had blown my mind. It was chump change to Easton but that hadn't stopped him from wanting to celebrate.

We were living together and I'd been able to send my parents enough money to go on the first vacation they'd had since I could remember. It was my money that I'd earned, not an allowance from my very wealthy boyfriend.

And I couldn't be prouder.

"We are so thrilled to have you here with us today. Tell me. How does it feel for the two of you to be national sensations?"

"Amazing," I managed.

"You two make an incredible writing team," the interviewer said. It was odd. I couldn't remember her name and she'd been on the show for years.

"We do," Easton answered. "But Sara is the backbone, the brains of the operation."

"No, I'm not. Well, maybe." I was surprised I was able to tease at all.

We laughed and chatted and I felt like the luckiest girl all over again. And I was. My hero was right here, and he wasn't going anywhere.

"One last question. I've heard some parts of the story are based on actual events. Any truth to that rumor?"

Easton allowed me to answer. I offered my slyest smile as I leaned forward. "What's the saying? If we told you we'd have to kill you?"

We all laughed, but I couldn't allow the interview to end this way.

"No, Kathy. The truth is that authors take great pride in using their imagination, making the reader feel as if they were in the story through the eyes of an alpha hero or a monster. If you think any parts of the book were based on fact, then we've done our jobs."

And we had.

In spades.

Because we'd worked together.

The light to his darkness.

Now it was time for a beautiful future.

Whatever that might be.

Easton

"What do you have up your sleeve, Mr. Saint?"

Sara's question came out like a purr. "Who, me? Why do you think I'm up to something?"

"Because we happen to be in the most expensive restaurant in New York City. You purchased me a flaming hot dress and you are looking pretty dapper in a crisp new suit. Instead of ordering either caviar or lobster tail, or even a bloody rare steak, you insisted we have cheeseburgers. So, yes, I know when you're up to something. You can never fool me."

"Don't forget about chocolate fudge ice cream on top of an ooey gooey brownie for dessert." I leaned over the table, giving her a dominating look.

"That's it," she said, tossing her napkin on the table. "You are up to something. Confess or I'll cut you off."

Right.

"You're not in charge. At least for now." I laughed and nodded to the waiter who was standing by. "But I will do one better."

When the mariachi band started, I grinned seeing the shock on her face.

"What the…" She turned around in her chair, more shocked than I thought she'd be.

It was my cue. Now or never. Something I could never do in Chicago. Or at least do and live it down. Somehow, I had a feeling I'd be on the news anyway.

I moved toward the band and for a full two minutes, I sang in broken Spanish very badly after donning a ridiculous-looking cape that belonged on some bullfighter. I might have many talents, but singing wasn't one of them.

But it didn't matter that my voice sounded worse than fingernails on a blackboard. Even from where I was, the flickering candlelight all around us allowed me to see the tears in her eyes.

As the song came to an end, I was thankful for small miracles. I took a long stride toward her chair, tossing the cape dramatically over one shoulder then the other before dropping onto one knee.

She clasped her hands on both sides of her face, shaking all over.

As I pulled out the velvet box, I knew about one hundred cellphones were recording every single minute. Oh, I had a feeling my brothers would remind me of this moment for the rest of my life.

So what?

As I opened the box, I heard dozens of women gasping. Then there was silence.

"My beautiful co-author, the lovely Sara Adams, the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Through thick and thin, no matter what life tosses in our direction. Even when you're sick and throwing up all over me or torturing me by forcing us to watch yet another horror flick, will you do this humble man the honor of becoming my wife?"

When she didn't say anything, I was certain every single person had sucked in their breath, including me.

She dragged the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, and I could see the mischief building in her eyes.

I leaned closer, whispering in her ear, "Am I making a big enough fool of myself?"

When I leaned back, someone yelled from the back.

"Honey, if you don't marry him, I will."

"Oh, no, you don't," Sara finally yelled back. "He's mine, all mine. Yes, and yes to your questions and I love you to the moon and back."

As I swept her into my arms, forcing us both to rise to our feet, the entire dining room erupted in applause.

I'd never believed I could be happy or that the ghosts from the past would stop haunting me. But in the last few months, I hadn't experienced a single nightmare.

And I knew my mother was smiling down on me and her other two boys from heaven.

Life could be restarted.

Even for a monster.

Correction, a former monster.

The End