“Oh, I’m going to fuck you every way you can imagine. Just not again tonight.”
“That’s disappointing,” I remark. I’m planning on seducing him, so I don’t believe what he says.
“Don’t be. I’ll take care of you in other ways.”
“What ways?” I ask, fully on board now.
“How about a warm bath and I show you?”
I grin. “The other bathroom has a bathtub. I’m here to learn from you,” I say. I can’t wait to introduce him to my beloved claw-foot tub.
“And I’m here to love you,” he says. “But first, I have something to give you.”
He reaches over to his discarded jeans again.
“Another condom? Oh, yes please.” I laugh.
His mouth quirks. “Something else. Something I’ve had for a long time.”
He pulls out a small velvet pouch.
“Hold out your wrist,” he instructs.
I offer my left wrist.
“The other one.”
I do as commanded and give him my right wrist, palm up. My bracelet jingles.
He empties the small turquoise bag into my hand. A series of the most delicately carved charms fall like raindrops into my hand, each one more exquisite than the last.
“How—why?”
His eyes glint. “I’ve been collecting these since I sent you the charm bracelet that first Christmas, one for each year of your birthday. But we stopped writing and started texting, so it seemed like breaking the rules to send them to you. But I couldn’t stop buying them.”
“A typewriter.” I smile. “It’s perfect. It’s a Remington,” I say in awe.
“Two typewriters,” he says. He picks up another charm.
“It’s my Smith Corona! It’s even teal.”
He places the two typewriters together on the same link. That small gesture brings tears to my eyes.
I hold up my arm, admiring the way they shine. Then I move on to the next treasure.
“A heart,” I say, touching the platinum heart edged in what looks like rubies.
“Mine.” He swallows.
I lean over and kiss him, just a gentle thanks, but the kiss heats.
I manage to pull myself away. “Stop distracting me from my gift. What’s next? Oh, Chase, it’s my house! How did you know?”
“You described it so many times in your texts.”
I look at the next one. “A camera,” I say, looking at him. “For Nanna?”
He nods. I swallow back tears at the care that went into selecting each treasure.
The last charm is an intricately designed book.
“For all the books you will publish one day. Soon.”
I smile wistfully. “I sent my manuscript to several agents. It was scary. But I did it.”
“I’m glad,” he says. “You’re so damn talented. And I know that because I’ve read your work. It’s about time you listened,” he grumbles.
“It took me a while, but I did it.”
He places the book on a link, and now all the charms are there, all representing different facets of me.
I wrap my arms around his neck, loving the jingle of the bracelet.
“I love you, Remington.”
“I love you, Typewriter Girl.”
“So about breaking the rules. How do you really feel about dick pics?” I giggle.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Hmm,” I say. “Maybe that’s a risk too far.”
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
You always remember your first. That’s what this book is for me. Not the first novel I ever started. But it’s the first I ever completed. This book is proof that it’s never too late to take risks and live life fully. That’s the lesson Olivia learns in Star-Crossed Letters, and it’s a lesson I continue to learn every day.
Writing and publishing takes a village. Thank you to all my fellow writers who answered my million and one questions. Thank you to all the amazing professionals who helped along the way: my fabulous editors, proofreaders, beta readers, cover designer, and public relations and promo team. The mistakes are all mine.
Thank you to my husband and my family for always encouraging me to chase my dreams.
And most of all, thanks to you, my readers.