Page 154 of Booked on You
“Hi,” I whisper, swimming in his blue eyes.
“Hi,” he says, smirking.
“You make life fun,” I say.
“I love you. So. Fucking. Much. Thank you for finding me.”
“I love you, too.”
When Ezra kisses me, the world fades away. And I know being here with him is the only place on earth I’m supposed to be.
EPILOGUE
EZRA
SIX MONTHS LATER
The bookstore is packed. It’s standing room only, with at least two hundred people crammed into a space that is probably meant to hold half that many. I’m in the back, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed, and I can barely see Scarlett through the crowd. But I can hear her voice perfectly over the speakers.Her Forevermade all the bestseller lists, and it’s sitting at number one on all of the charts as we speak.
Just listening to her talk brings me happiness. Seven months after meeting her, and her presence still affects me.
The next question comes from the moderator. “I know you probably won’t answer this, but is Jordan based on a real person?”
The crowd laughs, and several heads turn to look at me. I keep my expression neutral and slightly tilt my body so I can see Scarlett. She looks completely in her element as she takes a very long, dramatic pause. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She chuckles.
“Uh-huh, yeah, right. We know the truth. For what it’s worth, Jordan is a keeper,” the moderator says, and everyone agrees. “Love looks good on you.”
A woman next to me whispers loudly to her friend, “That’s her boyfriend who inspired the book.”
I ignore them and keep my eyes on Scarlett. We’ve been traveling to book signings for the past two weeks as part of her tour forHer Forever, and she begged me to join her. I took time off work so I could. This is the final one, and I’m excited to experience New Orleans with my girlfriend.
Scarlett continues to answer questions about her characters, plot points, and what was on her mind while she wrote specific scenes. She’s funny and charming and completely natural with her readers. People hang on to her every word. Hell, so am I.
When the Q&A ends, it’s announced that Scarlett will be signing books and taking pictures with fans. The line forms and wraps around the room like a snake. I settle in, knowing this part is what takes the most time, but I don’t mind. I love watching her shine like the rare gem she is.
She spends time with each person, asking their name, chatting about life and love, and taking photos. Some of them cry. Some of them tell her how much the book meant to them.
One woman explains how Helena’s story helped her heal and gave her hope after she left a bad relationship. Scarlett hugs her, and I can’t explain the pride that rushes through me. Every few seconds, Scarlett finds me across the room and flicks her gaze toward me. Those sexy little smirks are just for me.
Two hours later, the last person gets their book signed. The bookstore staff cleans up, and they thank Scarlett for her time with appreciation. I approach her and love the way she lights up when she sees me.
“Hey, stranger,” she says, holding her arm out so she can slide it around my waist. “Have fun?”
“Always. You were incredible.”
“I’m exhausted. And starving.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
We weave through the bookstore and step out into the warm April evening. The French Quarter is alive with music and people and the smell of fried food from every direction. I take Scarlett’s hand and lead her down Royal Street toward Jackson Square.
My heart won’t slow down.
We walk past restaurants and bars and street performers. A man is playing saxophone on the corner, and I drop several dollars in his case. Scarlett is happily taking everything in, and she has that look on her face like she’s memorizing each moment.
I’m memorizing how her hand feels in mine, along with that beautiful smile on her face.
When we turn onto St. Peter Street, Jackson Square comes into view. The white spires of St. Louis Cathedral rise up against the early evening sky.
