Page 149 of Fangirl

She laughs. “We have to get a kitten.”

“Anything you want.” I grin, pulling her into my arms, holding her against my chest like the answer’s already yes.

Because it is.

Because she’s here.

And I’m never letting her go again.

CHAPTER 29

AMY

Ithink I’m engaged.

Maybe?

I’m not entirely sure. He didn’ttechnicallyask me to marry him. And I didn’ttechnicallysay yes.

But I’m wearing the silver band he gave me. And I’ve been smiling like an idiot for seven days straight.

Right now, I’m curled up on my sofa in my tiny London flat, watching the sun stretch across the floor while Jakesleeps in my bed with Pea curled up in the crook of his arm like he’s always belonged there.

Someone leaked a phone video of our moment on set. It’s still everywhere, even a week later.

I’m 90 percent sure the marketing team forThe Chroniclesis collectively losing their minds with joy. “Jake Hollander Finds His Real-Life Celandine” is the headline on at least five different outlets.

And honestly?

I don’t even care.

Okay, that’s a lie. Idocare. I’m not comfortable with the attention, and I probably never will be.

But I love him.

And I know now, truly know, that the press, good or bad, doesn’t shake him. He’s not performing anymore. He’s just Jake, and he chose me, and he deserves the same from me.

He goes back to set tomorrow, but today? He’s officially meeting Maya.

I’m bracing for it. For Maya’s patented brand of terrifying enthusiasm. For the look on her face when I tell her I’ll be moving to the US when Jake finishes shooting.

But I think they’ll get along. My girl is my biggest cheerleader. She wanted me to be happy before I even remembered how.

Jake wants to meet my family too. To “do the right thing,” as he put it. So next weekend, he’s flying back again to meet them, not just as a boyfriend, but as a quiet act of defiance. A statement.

He overheard the conversation I had with my motherafter the tape of his love declaration leaked.

The one where my family asked why a man like him would ever be with someone like me.

He didn’t say anything at the time, but I know he’s not a fan, and it makes me feel so cherished to have this man in my corner.

I go into the kitchen and start to prepare breakfast when Pea trots in, mewling indignantly like I’m thirty seconds late to his royal morning feast.

“Alright, alright, you dramatic potato,” I mumble, reaching for his bowl. He does a little circle at my feet, tail in the air like a banner of judgment.

I’m halfway through cracking eggs into the pan when I hear the soft creak of my bedroom door, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of socked feet on hardwood.

A second later, Jake appears in the doorway, shirtless and sleep-ruffled, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand.