Epilogue

"Wait, say that again?" Gabby says, her expression looking about as confused as an eighth grader faced with a calculus problem.

Despite the fact that I'm trying to lose an extra ten pounds, we're drinking lattes and eating muffins on the patio of Upper Crust, an awesome Malibu bakery not far from the house. And I'm playing fairy godmother. For her and for me.

"I said that Matthew is all over Doppelg?nger. He's thrilled to be co-producing it. And about how much buzz it already has."

I check my phone for a text from Ryan, then frown when I don't see one. I tap my finger on the tabletop and tell myself that I'm not getting antsy. That all is well. That they haven't been in a fiery car accident, and that no household accident has ambulances racing to my house.

"Buzz?" Gabby interrupts my rising angst. "It's not even published yet."

"Well, buzz in Hollywood." I lean forward, telling myself to focus. He'll be here soon enough and everything is just fine. "Matthew's already talking it up," I add, forcing myself to keep my mind on the movie. "And everyone who's read a review copy is certain it's going to land right at the top of the New York Times list."

"You're serious."

"Yes. Duh." I reach over and squeeze her hand. "And thank you so much for letting me option it." I'd read her first draft months ago when she'd pretty much shoved it into my hands. I'd loved it then, and I'd loved it even more after she incorporated her editor's changes. More than that, I knew it would fly off the shelves.

"I've already talked to Zelda about writing the screenplay," I continue. "I think she'll kill it."

"Zelda?" Gabby shakes her head, apparently having no clue.

"A friend of mine. She wrote the book that Intercontinental was based on."

"Zelda Clayton? Holy shit, I love her books. She writes screenplays?"

"She never planned to, but about a year ago Matthew asked her to revise one that needed a shit ton of work, and she kicked ass. So he and I both agreed she'd be perfect to adapt this. Especially since her books are mostly thrillers. I mean, she understands the vibe. The pacing."

She rubs her temples. "So this is really happening? How is that possible? The book doesn't even release for two more months."

I shrug. "Because you happen to be friends with a woman who has connections." I point to myself, just in case she's too gobsmacked to figure that out on her own.

"And as for the book's release, once your publisher's marketing department learns what's happening on the Hollywood side of things, they'll up the print run and quadruple the promotion and publicity. It's going to explode. You'll see."

"Holy shit."

I laugh, feeling like Santa Claus, even though Gabby's good news is just as good for me.

"And you pulled all of this together over the last what? Eight, nine months? Are you superhuman? How'd you have the energy?"

I shrug. "I was motivated." She's right, though. I definitely had to slog through pregnancy brain. And for the last two months, I've been the queen of delegating. What can I say? I've had other priorities on my mind.

"Thank you," she says. "Thank you so much."

"Are you kidding? Thank you. For writing it in the first place, then letting me read it, not to mention option it." I lean back in my chair, ready to drop the best bomb of all. "And thank you for giving me my next starring role."

Her jaw drops and she clutches my hands. "Seriously? You're going to star?"

"Oh, yeah. And we're going to cream Dead Certain at the box office. Not that I'm bitter."

After Bryan's ridiculous stunt, both Matthew and Carson left the project…and Annalise signed on despite the push back from the press and fans that called both her and Bryan out about spreading that vile pic, but also about putting the whole scheme together just so Annalise could slide into my role.

Well, she's welcome to it. Especially considering that film is going to bomb. Not only did my sources tell me that the dailies were wretched, but public support for those two has dropped way off.

Payback's a bitch. But that's why I love her.

"I haven't told you the best part," I add.

Her eyes go wide. "There's more?"

"Eli Jones just agreed to play Ryan."

"Holy shit. Do you think I could get a signed picture?"

I laugh, then jump when my phone finally vibrates. I yank it up, telling her that I think we can do better than one little autograph, then grin with joy and relief when I read Ryan's text. We're here. Be there in a sec.

Less than five minutes later, he strolls onto the decking, looking as delicious as always. And while I'm one-hundred percent certain that all the women on the patio have turned to stare at him, my attention is laser-focused on the baby carrier in his arms and our little niblet snuggled in her blanket as the carrier's canopy keeps her precious, perfect skin safe from the sun.

"There's Mommy," Ryan says, and I'm certain it is not my imagination when she wiggles those little hands and feet in delight.

I don't even realize I've stood up until Ryan sets the carrier on our table, very well-shaded by an umbrella. But it's all I can do not to reach in, unstrap her, and cuddle her close. Even if that means waking her.

"She fell asleep in the car," Ryan says. "Best sedative ever." We share a knowing grin. For the first six weeks, I think we spent more time in the car than we did in the house. But it worked. And despite the initial frustration of not being able to get her to go down, now I wouldn't trade those long drives and whispered conversations with Ryan for anything. Especially the nights that were punctuated by that tiny little snore that slayed us every time.

"Is this her?" Gabby bends over the carrier and makes the typical baby sounds, then tells us how beautiful she is. I know that's standard protocol around babies, but in this case, it happens to be true.

"Someone has her two-month checkup in town today," I tell her. I'd walked the beach to meet her, something I normally wouldn't do, but I have to tackle the baby weight before filming begins. Instead of walking home, I told Ryan to pick me up. And the bonus is that we get to show the niblet off. A ritual that, frankly, I never get tired of, because every day, she does something new and amazing and awesome.

She really is the cleverest baby ever, though I don't say that around Nikki. Even though I'm sure she knows it's true.

Since I can't wait any longer, I reach for her.

"You sure?" Ryan asks, his hand on my back. "She's conked out."

"Too much sleep and she won't go down tonight." It's only an excuse—I think I'll die if I don't get to hold her right now—but it's also true.

"Good point." From his grin, I can tell he wants to cuddle her just as much as I do. The last two months have been amazing. Hell, even actually giving birth was incredible, though I owe a serious debt to the genius who invented drugs and epidurals. I refused to let Ryan film it, but I kind of regret that, especially when I realized—through my haze of pain and drugs—that he was actually crying when he cut the cord. Well, gently weeping.

Since then, our home has been a place of miracles. All those little milestones like lifting her head and pushing up from her tummy have been endlessly fascinating to me and Ryan, completely convincing us that she is the smartest baby ever. We can watch her for hours—and have the video footage to prove it. And although Evelyn swears that it was just a reflex and the first real one is still to come, I'm absolutely certain that she's already blessed Ryan and me with her very first smile.

I gently pick her up, and she nuzzles close as if trying to nurse, even though I know she's not hungry. Ryan slides an arm around me, then strokes her dark hair, and she makes that little cooing sound that we know means that she's happy.

How can she not be? I'm happier than I've ever been, and every night as I curl up against Ryan and listen to the sound of her breathing through the monitor, I wonder what I was so afraid of.

I'm not afraid anymore. I'm joyous. I'm proud. And I'm desperately in love.

I smile up at Ryan and see the same emotions reflected right back at me. Then I look at Gabby and shift a bit so that she has a better view of the niblet.

"This is your aunt Gabby," I tell her as she blinks those stunning blue eyes. "And Gabby, I want you to meet Maia Louise Hunter."

THE END