Page 90 of The Reluctant Romantic
As their friends fell into easy conversation, Emery leaned closer to Eveline and took her hand. “Fancy some fresh air?”
They slipped away to the restaurant's balcony, Paris spread before them. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, a light show just beginning.
“Are you happy?” Emery asked, wrapping her arms around Eveline's waist from behind.
Eveline leaned back against her. “Happier than I ever thought possible. You've given me everything I never knew I wanted.”
“Even with all my chaos? My knocking things over and grand gestures?”
“Especially because of those things,” Eveline said, turning in Emery's arms to face her. “You taught me that life doesn't have to be orderly to be beautiful.”
Emery smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind Eveline's ear. “And you taught me that the best stories aren't always the ones we write, sometimes they're the ones we live.”
“Very poetic,” Eveline teased. “You should be a writer.”
“I'm thinking about it,” Emery laughed. “I hear there's quite the market for romance these days.”
The Eiffel Tower's lights danced in the background as they kissed beneath the Paris sky, two women who had found in each other the perfect balance between chaos and order, between fiction and reality, between hearts that were finally, completely at home.
And if a happily-ever-after existed anywhere in the world, it was right there on that balcony, between a bookseller and hernovelist, writing their own perfect ending with every breath, every laugh, every kiss that was yet to come.
