Page 52 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

AUTUMN

A MASSIVE HELPING OF CROW

“ W hat’s all this?” I asked with a laugh of disbelief as I stood in the front door threshold and blinked.

The lights were off, but lit candles dotted every flat surface. The glow warmed the inside of the little house, casting dancing shadows across the walls and ceiling. Ryan was sitting on the couch, smiling expectantly.

I had gone out to a coffee shop to write today because Ryan said he needed to batch record a few podcast episodes and have virtual coaching meetings.

Rather than tiptoeing around each other and trying not to make a peep, I wrote the last chapter of my book surrounded by innocent coffee drinkers who were completely unaware that I was in the process of giving a couple their happy ending after brutally tearing them apart in the third act.

I clutched my laptop a little closer to my chest as I closed the door behind me. “Are we having a séance?”

But Ryan didn’t answer. Instead, he stood from the couch and slowly walked toward me.

“Something smells good,” I said as I tossed the car keys on the kitchen island and set my laptop beside them.

“Did you finish it?” Ryan asked as he stood in front of me and slid his hands beneath my jaw, cupping my cheeks.

“The book?”

He nodded.

I grinned. “Yeah.”

“That’s my girl,” he said with a quick flash of a smile before kissing me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Hi to you too. What’s going on?”

“I thought we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate? Finishing the book?”

“Mhmm.” His hands were tender, cradling the back of my neck as he smoothed his thumb over my cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

I bloomed under his praise. “It’s not my first. Or second. Not by a long shot. I do this every few months.”

“I know,” he said with that star-struck grin. “But I’ve never gotten to be here for it before. It didn’t know what it was going to be like.”

I cocked my head curiously. “What did you think it was going to be like?”

Ryan looked a little sheepish. “A lot more dramatic. I thought you’d wake up in the middle of the night and chase down your laptop to write down your ideas.”

“That’s what my phone is for. You know I hate getting out of bed. But it’s always interesting to see what delirious Willow thought was a good idea at three in the morning.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t realize how clinical it is. I thought you’d have a cloak and write with a quill pen by candlelight, or clack away on a typewriter.”

“You’ve seen how I travel. Typewriters aren’t exactly conducive to my lifestyle.”

“I loved watching you work on it. And I can’t wait to read it.”

“ After copious amounts of editing and polishing,” I said. “No one’s allowed to read my first drafts.”

He kissed me again, soft and slow. The last few days had been . . . odd. I wasn’t sure if it was because Ryan knew I was planning on moving soon, but he had been holding me closer. Being even gentler than he already was.

I loved it. But the closer I got to the day that I needed to turn in the keys to Bev, the more I thought about what was next.

I had been so insistent that this was a farce. That I was being dragged into the ploy, kicking and screaming. But the truth was, I had loved every minute I had gotten to spend with Ryan Ford.

I loved standing in the check out line, bantering about seltzers.

I loved having a road trip partner. I loved the way he thought he had better taste in music than me, even though we both knew that was a lie.

Our structures complemented each other. We were both used to being self-employed and working from home.

Not everyone understood or respected the discipline required to do that, or the fact that you were never really “off work.”

I loved going on adventures with him, even if it was just for cookies or to find places to donate books.

I loved falling asleep and waking up in his arms. I loved the middle of the night moments when he would drag me into his chest if I had rolled away.

I loved when he held my hand and gave it a squeeze; the silent reassurance that he was by my side through the wins and the losses.

Today was a win.

Coming home to him waiting was better than writing “The End.” Because Ryan Ford felt like every magical beginning.

“Thank you,” I said as I wrapped my arms around his waist and settled into his chest. The hug was strong and safe. “I’ve never had someone to tell in person before. If I tell anyone when I finish, it’s Whitney and Wander. But they’re always far away.”

He combed his fingers through my hair and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Thank you for letting me be here for it.”

I pecked his lips once more. “You still haven’t explained what the candles are for. Are we having a spa day?”

“No, but I’ll remember that for next time. I enjoy a good face mask now and then.”

I laughed as the oven timer went off. “What’s that?”

Ryan let me go and grabbed the oven mitts. “Pierogies. Not as good as New York, but the freezer section will do.”

My stomach growled. “Did you have a craving?”

He set the baking sheet on top of the stove, then grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it with hot water from the kettle on the stove. “Not exactly.”

“Pierogies and hot chocolate,” I observed. “So this isn’t chance?”

“No. I was just thinking about the day we went out for pierogies. It was the first day we actually talked. Before that it was banter, or jabs, or me sending you an obnoxious room service spread to piss you off.”

“Aha! So you admit it was a game!”

He grinned. “It was a game that day. But after we met up and actually had a conversation . . . It wasn’t a game after that. It hasn’t been one for a long time, Wills.”

My cheeks flamed with heat as prickles of awareness clawed up my skin.

Were we . . . were we about to have that conversation?

He ripped into the hot chocolate packet and dumped it in the mug before giving it a stir. “I have marshmallows and whipped cream, too.”

Okay. Maybe not.

“I can think of some other things we could do with whipped cream.”

Ryan grinned. “You and your filthy mind.”

I cocked my head. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong,” he said with a laugh as my stomach growled. He pecked my lips. “But let’s get you fed.”

We reconvened on the couch with plates of freezer-aisle pierogies and mugs of hot chocolate, even though the temperatures were still balmy outside.

It had already started to get chilly at night, which meant the daytime temperatures were about to take a dive. Usually, this would be the time of year when I charted a course for somewhere warmer to spend the next three months.

But all I could think about was cuddling up next to Ryan while snow fell outside. Spending the holidays with him. Making messes while baking Christmas cookies. Lazy mornings and late nights.

Life never stopped for me. My job traveled wherever I was. I was always chasing the next story. I was always thinking about what was next.

But for the last few months, all I had thought about was what the next day with him would bring.

Ryan tapped his pierogi to mine in a sort of cheers before taking a bite. We sat in companionable silence, snacking in the candlelight.

This was the kind of romance that I wrote. The mundane, small-town love that felt like a hug. Whitney and Wander liked the gorey, danger-filled stuff. But that wasn’t for me. I wanted pierogies and hot chocolate. I wanted bookshop adventures and quiet moments under a tree.

I could chase that kind of calm all I wanted, but Ryan’s life was in the city.

Was it, though? He lived with his mom in Queens, but he traveled for speaking engagements and conferences.

Certainly, he had something to get back to when our twelfth week together was over. We had been avoiding talking about it altogether, but the conversation was inevitable.

“You’re staring at that pierogi like it did you wrong,” Ryan said, startling me out of my racing thoughts.

“What?” I said as I blinked back to the present.

He chuckled as he leaned forward to set his mug on the coffee table. “Penny for your thoughts?”

I let out a slow breath and tried to center myself. Why the hell had I been thinking about a future with Ryan Ford?

I couldn’t stand him. Right?

But even I knew that was a lie.

At what point had my favorite person to loathe become my favorite person?

“My thoughts are much more expensive than that.”

“Trust me, I know.” He draped his arm around my shoulders. “Name your price.”

I looked up from the half-eaten pierogi. “What?”

His eyes were warm and tender. “Name your price. Whatever’s on your mind, I want to know what it is.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

I hesitated. I had been playing my cards so close to the vest. This arrangement wasn’t supposed to become anything, but I wasn’t delusional enough to deny it, either.

I knew a good thing when I saw it, and Ryan Ford was the best thing.

There was something to be said about enemies to lovers trope. I loved crafting two characters who saw the worst in each other, but chose to love each other anyway.

“Just thinking about what’s next,” I finally said.

“About where you’re traveling next?”

My heart sank. “Yeah,” I lied.

“Any candidates yet?”

“Maybe North Carolina. I wouldn’t mind being closer to Wander. Rhode Island is too cold in the fall, so Whitney will have to come to us.”

His fingers traced lackadaisical shapes on my shoulder. “Do you ever wish you lived closer to them all the time?”

I nodded. “We text all the time, and we video chat and work together like that. But it’s not the same when you can’t pop into each other’s houses and hang out or go get drinks together.

” I sighed. “Driving to them is always a lot. I’ve flown to them a few times, but the anxiety meds I have to take to be able to fly make me feel awful, so I try to avoid them as much as I can. ”

Ryan kissed the top of my head, before taking our plates and mugs to the sink. “Tell me something,” he said when he sat back down. “Have you figured out where heaven is yet?”