Epilogue

Goodbye Mary, Hello Chloe

Five months later

I t was the week before Thanksgiving, and my parents had made it clear they expected me to attend the family gathering at my grandparents' house in St. Petersburg. I wanted to go see Grandma and Grandpa, but I also had to finish editing my latest novel so it would get a release date this year. I felt it was my spiciest, steamiest yet, with an intriguing plot and realistic enough characters to snag the big brass bell of Best Contemporary Romance. Sales had been up after winning the Laurel, and several top authors had approached me with opportunities to partake in a few joint projects—an anthology and a spicy romance series where our stories would slightly overlap, being set in the same fictional small town. Naturally, I was on board with them all. Writing wasn't making me rich, but it was keeping me happy.

I had re-established my online presence and was already up to half the number of followers as before the debacle. It felt great to be interacting with writers I'd met at the conference, readers and fans, and commenting on people's funny memes. I'd forgotten how much I missed my community.

Chloe hadn't become bored with me, and I'd held up better with the distance thing than I'd thought I would. We started out talking on the phone several times a week, shooting a few texts in between. Hers were always so cute, consisting mostly of abbreviations and emojis. Each time I got one, my heart fluttered, and I felt lighter. Soon we had established a regular nightly Skype at nine my time, eight central—except a few occasions when she had to stay late to work on a time-sensitive project. Our dates were the highlight of my days and nights, and I came to look forward to them more than food or sex.

Well, actually … I never realized how erotic interactions without touch could be. The written word alone, when done correctly, could bring one to arousal. Between Snapchat and Skype, we could employ as many visual cues as we desired to accompany the suggestive text as we described what we were doing to each other in our minds. You know, those gurus who talk about how imagination creates reality might truly be onto something, because every thought turned into a word or phrase resulted in some very real reactions—for me, anyway—and Chloe attested to the same. The groundwork had been laid, and we were both monumentally ready for an up close and personal rendezvous.

Based on my thoughts and feelings, and compared to my prior experiences, I was left with only one reasonable conclusion —I had fallen for a sci-fi-writing robotics engineer who lived fourteen hundred miles away. It was crazy but true. Of course, I hadn't told her that part, in case it never worked out for us to be together. I'd given a little thought to picking up and moving to Wisconsin but … the snow, the cold, not knowing anyone. Writing is a solitary profession at best. If I did that, I'd be completely alone most of the time. At least I'd have Chloe in my bed at night, though.

In other news, I had filled out paperwork to legally change my name to Aspen Wolfe. Mom was livid, and Dad shrugged. "Even if she gets married to a guy, she'd have a different last name, anyway. Who cares?" Did he still not understand I was never getting married to a man? And if I married a woman—Chloe Dziedzic, for example—I'd probably keep my professional author name since it's the one readers would recognize. I came to realize what Tammy and Chloe had been trying to tell me—I am whoever I want to be. Creating the persona I aspired to become and going around pretending to be her had, in reality, transformed me into that person. So why not adopt her name?

The closer it got to nine o'clock, the more delight danced in my heart. I made sure everything was set. I had my drink, had gone to the bathroom, finished all my chores, and sat propped up in bed with my laptop waiting for nine o'clock so I could click the call icon. No sooner than Chloe's beautiful face lit the screen, Furball slinked across my keyboard, causing blips and errant keystrokes. He rubbed the screen and meowed, flicking his tail as he tried to hog all the attention.

With an annoyed groan, I hefted him off and tossed him to the foot of the bed. "Stay," I commanded as if it would do any good. "Hey, sweetie. Sorry about that. You know Furball—he always wants to be included."

"Yep, even in activities to which he was purposefully not invited," she observed with a playful wink. I laughed. Since I was always so happy to see her, laughter lived less than a breath away. "How was your day?" she asked, just like she might if she'd come home from work at the lab.

"Mostly editing. You know me, must have every word precise." I grinned, and my body hummed with joy. "I got my marching orders for the Thanksgiving Day feast at Grandma's house. Will you be going to a family gathering back in Beaver Dam?"

"Darn tootin'!" She presented a big, toothy grin that made her cheeks bunch up under the big, round glasses.

"The paperwork came through," I added with a hint of mystery.

"Paperwork?" The most adorable, confused expression overtook the cheerful grin. If she made me feel this terrific over a computer monitor, I couldn't imagine the rapture of holding her again. It had better be soon. Christmas? Oh, how I long to unwrap my gift!

I wiggled my brows and smiled seductively at her. "I am now officially and legally Aspen Wolfe."

"Wow, you really did it!" Chloe bubbled with excitement.

"Now I want to hear how your new book is coming along," I interjected, shifting the subject away from me. A new Winter Bliss space adventure was in the making. In this sequel, her starship captain, the hot, commanding Blaire Westcot, and her brainy science officer, Marlena Swift, visit a planet entirely inhabited by AI robots, after their humanoid creators all died in a tragic epidemic. The robots aren't evil, but one malfunctions and starts reprograming other robots to join it in a mutiny against the Community Caretakers—the moral robots in authority.

"You haven't sent a new chapter in days," I complained jovially.

"I'm working on it," she promised in a manner that begged for patience. "I'm just not sure what to do with Marlena and Blaire to create some tension or conflict for them to resolve. It's not coming across as romantic enough. I mean, sure, they're mega attracted to each other, but almost everything I write comes out being about the robots."

"Imagine that!" I replied sarcastically, with a snort of laughter.

"Speaking of robots …" Winter pressed her lips in a line and gazed at me flirtatiously like she had a secret.

"Come on," I coaxed. "Spill it! Something's ticking away in your brain. A novel, creative new titillating game for us to play tonight?"

A fresh burst of anticipation shot through me. Two weeks ago, she'd invented this D and D style game with characters, dice, and scenario cards, only it was full of sexy interactions. Mages didn't throw fireballs or ice bolts; they cast passion spells, compelling the target to follow any suggestion the mage gave—such as remove an item of clothing or touch a certain intimate body part. The warriors didn't use swords or bows but whips and shackles, like fierce, leather-clad dominatrixes who put submissives in their place. I could have played that game all night except dextrous mage elf Chloe had to get up for work the next morning.

"No." A nervous giggle escaped her mouth and then she bit her bottom lip, her eyes turning tentative.

A nervous impulse sobered me in an instant. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"I don't think so," she said. "I mean, I think it's very right, but I'm not sure if it's what you want."

"Tell me," I entreated. "Let's talk about it. After all, I'm invested in you now."

Returning her words from months ago brought a satisfied expression to her anxious face, and Chloe nodded. "I got a new job offer."

"That's great!" I exclaimed. "Unless you don't want it," I qualified. "Or it's in Timbuktu, and, if you take it, I'll never see you again. Oh, please don't let it be that!" A knot started tightening in my stomach at the thought.

"No, not that," she answered gently. "It's with NASA. It's not a pay increase because you know—private sector pays more—but it's a promotion with added authority, responsibilities, and prestige. And it's NASA!" Not a pay increase? She was already making three times my annual haul.

"Chloe, that's fantastic!" I cheered. Remembering her nervous expression about sharing the news, my enthusiasm melted. "Isn't it?"

"I think so," she answered with a hopeful expression. She bit her lip again and glanced down from the camera. "It's at the Kennedy Space Center."

"In Florida?" I shouted as a surge of hope erupted through my core. NASA had other locations as far away as California. I couldn't breathe—couldn't let myself breathe—until I knew.

"Yes?" Her expression conveyed a plethora of emotions. Her voice bade me tell her if I wanted her closer—if I wanted her at all.

"Sweetie, that's only two-and-a-half hours from my apartment!" I exclaimed with elation. "We could see each other every weekend—unless you were deep in a project or off to the space station or something. How can you think I wouldn't be over the moon?"

"I hoped you would be," she answered, still a little tense. "Things might be different in person. I mean, what if you decide you'd made a mistake? What if when we meet again for the first time since the conference, you don't feel the same way about me—I don't excite you anymore?"

"Chloe, I promise you that's not going to happen," I attested. "At least not on my part. Don't you know time with you is the highlight of my day? I go around like I'm walking on a cloud, happier than I've ever been in my life, because of you. I was worried that you'd be bored with me."

"Never!" she professed. "Seeing you and talking with you like this is the highlight of my days too. Sometimes I just worry that it's too good to be true. I mean, I never get the girl."

"Well, you've got me," I answered amorously. My expression softened, and I looked straight into her eyes on the screen, dragging my laptop closer. "Don't you know by now that I'm crazy in love with you? I was going to wait until we were together to tell you, but you have to believe me. You're cute and funny, loyal to a fault, thoughtful, creative, and really, really smart. I truly love you, and if I could have you closer—if I could have you in my life permanently—I'd jump through a million hoops to make that happen."

"You mean it?" Chloe effervesced like a Roman candle on New Year's Eve. A radiant glow flooded her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled like stars. She bounced and slapped her hands together in a prayer grip. "Because I've loved you from day one. OK, maybe I arrived in New Orleans infatuated with you, but, as I got to know you, Aspen, you surpassed my expectations. I never knew I would feel so electrified just to be near you. So, before you second guess yourself, yes—I love you too."

"Take the job, silly woman!" I must have looked the same to her while the fireworks went off in my chest. "When would you move?"

"They want someone in the position as soon as possible, so the weekend after Thanksgiving."

This just kept getting better and better. And I wouldn't at all object to moving to the East Coast if we decided to live together. I figured if I worked fast enough, I could have my editing and cover done and my new book posted for a December release before she arrived.

"I'll come help you move in, no question," I vowed. "That's not much time to find a place."

"I know, right?"

Seeing the glow on her face, knowing I'd put it there, made me feel like I'd hit the jackpot. We pulled up real estate websites for Merritt Island and the surrounding areas, excitedly diving into a search for anything ready for quick occupancy. It turns out she had a ton of money saved up, so cost became of little concern. This was the most excited I'd felt since … ever! I saw a glorious new chapter in my life on the horizon, and it filled me with bliss—Winter Bliss.

Once I'd thought the vengeance of SapphicLover69 was a terrible blow that could derail my career and personal life. Yet through a lovely twist of fate, it achieved the opposite result. My writers' community watched the drama unfold, and I emerged as the winner—with a sweet new girlfriend as the ultimate prize.