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“You mean the spot where you made one of your terrible vagina puns?”
“Vagina puns?” Gracie looked at us, crossing her arms. “Sounds fun.”
“Y’all should hang out with my mamas,” Luke added. “They are a virtual treasure trove of terrible genitalia puns. Mostly related to fruits and vegetables, so not exactly imaginative. But still entertaining.”
So here we are, how many months later. Bryce and I sitting at an enormous farm table at the front of the space, set with more copies of both my books than I think I’ve ever seen in one place before. Gotta be hundreds of books. Maybe more. We’re expecting our biggest crowd today—not only because it’s my hometown, but also because Southern Comforts hit both the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists this week.
It’s a total pinch-me moment. Made sweeter by the fact that it all happened—the highs, the lows, the fever-drunk fights—with my new little family by my side.
It’s been the best, most difficult, most rewarding experience of my life. But I’m already at work on the next cookbook, and I’m regularly hosting cooking lessons in Ford’s cavernous kitchen.
Dreams really do come true.
“Good morning, ladies!” Bryce and I both look up at the sound of Ford’s voice.
My stomach flips at the sight of him as he strides into the barn, hands full. Lord, is he DILFing out today: sunglasses, slicked back hair, a pale pink button down that would look douchey on anyone else but looks just the right amount of hot Southern stud on him. “Brought y’all some coffee and juice. And champagne.” He sets a sweating bottle of something very expensive in front of me. “Because what’s a homecoming without some bubbly?”
I grin as he kisses Bryce. Tilt my head up as he kisses me.
Even after all this time, his kiss still gives me butterflies. The scruff, the lewd little slide of tongue he slips in because he likes to turn me on in public and toy with me—it’s delightful in ways I can’t quite describe.
“Thank you, baby.”
He nods at the Sharpie in front of me. “Going with pink today I see.”
“My assistant told me change helps us grow,” I say, bouncing Bryce on my lap. “She also told me she heard you talking about tongas today in the bathroom.”
Pushing his sunglasses onto his head, Ford laughs.
“And here I thought we were being sneaky.”
Gracie and Luke come into the barn, followed by Elijah and Olivia. Julia, Greyson, and baby Parker arrive not long after. Who isn’t much of a baby anymore—we celebrated his first birthday a few weeks ago.
Immediately Bryce climbs off my lap to greet her cousin. “I just want to hold Boo’s hand,” she says.
Seeing my friends gather around us makes my throat swell. A year ago, I would’ve laughed in your face if you told me I’d be celebrating my New York Times bestselling cookbook in a barn with a five-year-old in my lap, Ford at my side, and my friends around me.
It’s not the happy ending I pictured for myself. But truth be told, it’s even better. My life is sweeter and fuller with these people in it. I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Not for the world.
Julia wraps me in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, friend. For writing such a bomb ass cookbook. But also for that.” She motions to Bryce and Ford, who are currently oohing and aahing over Parker’s new front teeth. “I’ve never seen you or Ford so happy. Bryce, too. Y’all are, like, this ridiculously handsome, ridiculously picture-perfect family.”
“Not perfect,” I say, shaking my head. “Far from it. And thank God for that. Although I could do without all the pee.”
“The pee?”
“Yeah. Every so often Bryce likes to climb in bed with us and pee everywhere. It’s a super fun way to start your day.”
Julia just laughs. “Motherhood. Not for the faint of heart.”
“No shit.”
People start to pour into the barn in earnest. My mom and dad. Eliza and Monty, who’ve brought a gigantic cake he made to celebrate. My agent, my editor, a bunch of people in the literary community I’ve met here in Charleston. Fans. Readers.
Alex shows up with a super handsome stranger on her arm and a strange expression on her face. She smiles when she greets us, but it doesn’t touch her eyes.
“Eva, meet my new boyfriend, Mason,” she says, and he loops his arm awkwardly around her waist.
Mason offers me a tight smile as he extends his other arm to shake my hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your new book.”
“Mason? Mason Yates?” Ford appears at my elbow, a big smile on his face. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
Mason takes Ford’s hand, his smile tightening even more. “I always forget what a small place Charleston is.”
“Y’all know each other?” Alex asks. I think I see a spark of panic ignite in her eyes, but before I can be sure, she looks away.
