The next fewdays charged by, and Chloe passed the time exchanging occasional text messages with Dylan, resting, and taking in the sights of San Francisco. She’d always loved it there: the hills, the proximity to the water, the never-ending breeze, the culture, and of course, the food. It had been her home after college, first renting an apartment in the Mission District, then finally, after the generous advance JBM gave her, she was able to rent a spacious, furnished one-bedroom home in affluent Pacific Heights. The panoramic views of the Bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Palace of Fine Arts, and the Presidio, a park that once served as a military fort, all worth the pretty penny she forked out each month to the landlord. Still, no San Francisco glory was worth anything, if she had to enjoy it all alone. She found herself missing Fortune’s Bay. Missing Dylan.
The call from Libby came while Chloe was sitting at her kitchen table, sipping on a cup of Destiny’s Brew signature blend. Dylan had given her a bag to take home since she was hooked on the stuff—even in the afternoon. “Libby, so glad you called. I was beginning to think—”
“It’s your best work ever, Chloe. I-I’m at a loss of words, actually.” Chloe could hear the sniffles coming from her editor.
“Libby, are you crying?”
“No, it’s my damn allergies. However, you’re absolutely right; there’s no need to add heat—the story of the budding romance stands up all on its own. And you owe me at least one last—”
“I know, I know. I should have told you it wasn’t quite finished. But I’ll meet the deadline, promise.”
“Will we be able to keep the names the same? If so, JBM will have them all sign a confidentiality agreement. It will be a first, you know, but a good way to end the series. A real-life love story. That, my dear, will be the tagline.”
Chloe smiled, a sense of relief flowing through her veins. “I’m happy you like it. I’ll be in touch.”
Hours later, as Chloe was about to turn in for the night, her phone rang; Hot Motorcycle Guy popping up on display induced a snicker. Dylan programmed his name in her phone like that, and she left it as is, since it was indeed true.
“Hey.” She flushed, internally embarrassed the sound of his voice brought heat to her cheeks.
“Hi.” His voice was soft, relaxed. With the time difference between them, it was nearly 11 p.m. in Fortune’s Bay. “I, uh just finished reading your manuscript.”
Chloe sat up in bed, hand to her chest, heart feeling lighter than ever. She was only able to clear her throat—audible words failed to surface.Please. Please say you love it.
“It’s a beautiful story, Chloe, about us, Abble Pie and all.”
She held in a chuckle. “Yep, that was an epic moment.”
“But uh, there’s no ending. The last chapter or so seems to be missing.”
Chloe wilted back down into her bed, uncertainty gripping her chest. “That’s because I’m not sure how it ends yet.” She didn’t dare admit she was torn between something old—her safe life in San Francisco—and something new like him and Fortune’s Bay.
Silence between them made seconds feel like minutes gone by before Dylan said, “And when will you know?”
“Soon.”
