Page 180 of High Reward

Themanuscriptsitsopenon my laptop when Victor and Lili find me curled up in the corner booth of Tyson’s club two nights later, one glass of wine deep and crying at my own writing, which feels both pathetic and completely earned.

“That bad?” Lili slides in across from me, stealing my wine before I can stop her.

“That good, actually. I just finished it.” I close the laptop before either of them can read over my shoulder, not yet. “The whole thing. Three books, and I just wrote the last line of the last one.”

Victor’s eyebrows go up. “The trilogy that’s clearly about us.”

“Loosely inspired by,” I correct, though we both know that’s generous. “I changed the names. And the city. And several other identifying details that would probably get us all arrested.”

“Several,” Lili agrees, deadpan, and I throw a napkin at her.

I pull the manuscript back up and turn the laptop around so they can both see the dedication page, the one I’ve rewritten a dozen times trying to get right.

To V and L, who taught me that love was never meant to fit in a box built by someone else. This story exists because you two convinced me mine was worth telling.

Victor reads it twice and doesn’t say anything, which is how I know it landed. Lili doesn’t bother trying to hide that she’s crying.

“It’s going in the shop,” I tell them. “Framed, next to the register. So everyone who walks in knows exactly who inspired it.”

“Only if you’re comfortable with that,” Victor says, always careful with me even now.

“I’ve never been more comfortable with anything.” I mean it completely. “I spent years hiding the parts of myself I thought people would judge. I’m done doing that.”

My phone buzzes on the table, and when I check it, I have to read the email twice before it actually registers.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Lili’s already leaning across the table trying to read upside down.

“I hit the list. The actual list. Book two debuted at number four.” My hands are shaking. “And there’s a morning show booking request in here too. They want to talk about indie authors crossing over into mainstream romance.”

Victor’s smile is the widest I’ve ever seen it, unguarded and completely unbothered by who might see it. “Look at you, butterfly.”

“I can’t believe this is my life,” I say, for probably the hundredth time since the bookstore opened.

“Get used to it.” Lili raises what’s left of my stolen wine in a toast. “This is just the beginning, lover.”

I clink my glass against it, because I want to remember every second of this one.

Lili

Sixmonthsago,ifyou’d told me I’d spend my Tuesday afternoons knocking on doors for a mayoral campaign, I would have laughed you out of the room. And yet here I am, campaign flyers tucked under one arm and more opinions about municipal zoning than any reasonable person should have.

“You’re good at this,” Isabel tells me, catching up after I finish talking down a genuinely furious man about a pothole that apparently isn’t even in this district. “Scary good. Have you considered running yourself someday?”

“Hard pass.” I’ve thought about it more than I’ll admit out loud. Hunter floated the idea once, half joking, and I shut it down before he finished the sentence. Too many people already know exactly who I’m sleeping with, my ties to organized crime notwithstanding. “I like being the person who gets things done without anyone learning my name. Suits me better.”

“Your loss. You’d have my vote.”

We finish the block before the sun goes down, and I find Garrett back at headquarters, sleeves rolled up, looking more like a man running on caffeine and stubbornness than a future mayor, which is probably exactly what Hunter liked about him in the first place.

“Numbers are good,” he tells me without looking up from his laptop. “Really good, actually. Whatever happened to Brandt’s old machine, it isn’t showing up to fight us.”

It isn’t. Miranda’s been quiet since her sentencing, and the parts of her operation that used to make elections here dangerous mostly went down with her. Small mercy, but I’ll take it.

Hunter finds me on my way out, Trinity on his arm looking healthier than I’ve seen her since the hospital, and pulls me into a hug that still catches me off guard every time, considering how our relationship started.

“Heard you’re a natural at this,” he says.