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Epilogue
Millie
It has taken me months and months, but I’m finally finishing my novel. Through a lot of self-reflection and hard work, my heroine has overcome her insecurities and finally admitted she’s in love with my hero. I’m so proud of her and myself as I type the words The End at the bottom of the page.
I sigh as I stare at the words. I’ve accomplished something huge that I set out to do and discovered things about myself along the way. This book has been a way for me to process thoughts and emotions, and without it, I don’t think I’d be where I am today.
I’m still staring at the words on the screen when Jameson comes barreling into the room and says, “Mils.” That’s his newest nickname for me. He wanted his own personal name to call me. Okay, he wanted to call me Mildred, but I put a stop to that real quick. Mils is a compromise. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to be leaving…you know, for our honeymoon. You’re still in your wedding dress!”
I give him my most innocent smile and point at the screen of my computer. He walks over and squats down beside me in his khaki shorts and short-sleeved button-down shirt. He looks soooo good, and I want to kiss his face, but I control myself and show him what’s on my computer.
“You finished it?” he asks in a voice three octaves higher than usual. He grabs me around the middle and squeezes until I’m gasping for air. “Sorry! Mils, I’m so excited! When can I read it?” he asks.
“Never! No one is ever reading this,” I say as I slam the laptop closed.
“Uh-uh. This baby’s getting published,” he says. I love that he has so much confidence in me. He believes in me, even when I don’t.
“I know. Self-doubt is just part of the process. All of the best authors agonize over their work…or so I hear,” I say with a shrug. He helps me to stand and motions for me to turn around. I do a quick twirl since it’s my last chance in my poofy wedding dress. Such a shame I only got to wear it for a few hours. It really is so pretty.
He unzips the back and helps me out of the gown, leaving it in a pile on the floor for his mom or Lo to find later. I rush to put on my floral-print dress I bought to leave in.
“You know, if you hadn’t been writing at our wedding, you wouldn’t have to rush right now,” Jameson says with a laugh.
“I can’t help it that the inspiration strikes at the worst possible times!”
“I understand. Marrying a dashing man like me must be pretty inspiring.”
I roll my eyes as I frantically try to buckle my sandals on my feet, but I’m a mess, and my hands have stopped functioning. He kneels down in front of me and fastens my sandals before his hand glides up my leg and lands on my thigh.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
I nod my head.
“You never have to be nervous about my love. I will always love you,” he says.
“I know.”
“You better.” Jameson scoops me up out of the chair and brings his lips to mine. It’s gonna be a little while before we make it out to the waiting crowd around our getaway car. Let them wait a little longer.
