Page 82 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

I consider his words, turning them over in my mind. The old Sora—the one desperate for a seat at the table—would have grabbed the Big Five contract instantly. But the woman I am now, the one who’s learned the hard way that external validation doesn’t equal happiness, isn’t so sure.

He pushes both contracts toward me. “But ultimately, it’s your choice. I will support whatever you choose.”

I look at the contracts, then back at Forrest. His expression is carefully neutral, but I can see the hope in his eyes. This man, my roommate, my friend, my lover, and now my agent and partner, has never steered me wrong.

“Which one is the Big Five again?”

He points to the contract on his right.

I reach for the one on the left. “I trust my agent’s advice,” I say, “but I trust my boyfriend’s heart even more.”

The smile that breaks across his face is worth more than any advance. I unfold the contract, eager to see the details of the offer, when something tries to blind me. Something that definitely isn’t part of a standard publishing contract.

A ring.

Not just any ring, but a delicate pavé band with a small, star-shaped diamond that catches the light from every angle. Identical to the one I’d admired during our billionaire trope date all those months ago.

My hand flies to my mouth. “Forrest…”

“It’s a replica,” he immediately says. “That’s not actually Celeste’s ring.”

“I don’t care,” I muse in a whisper-sob. “It’s stunning…what…but…how’d you know I was going to pick this contract?”

“Because I know your heart, cookie girl.” His smile has turned wobbly now, a rare vulnerability showing through his usually confident demeanor. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I’ll address them all,” he says softly, “but I’d really like mine answered first.”

Before I can process what’s happening, he gathers the ring, moves from his chair, and drops to one knee beside our table. The ambient noise of the coffee shop dims as heads turn in our direction.

“Sora Cho-Cooper,” Forrest murmurs, taking the ring from where it had been nestled in the contract and holding it up.

“When I walked into this coffee shop a year ago, I was a different man. I had walls built so high around my heart that I couldn’t see past them.

But you—with your determination, your talent, your tenacious belief in love despite all evidence to the contrary—you saw through those walls like they were made of glass. ”

Tears are already streaming down my face, but I make no move to wipe them away.

“You wrote your way into my life,” he continues, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “And now I can’t imagine a single chapter of my future without you in it. Will you do me the honor of being my happily-ever-after?”

The question bobs in the air between us, but only for a split second. Because there has never been a question with an easier answer.

“Yes,” I croak through my tears.

He slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits perfectly—of course it does. This man has planned everything down to the last detail. As he rises, the coffee shop erupts in applause, strangers sharing in our moment of joy.

Forrest pulls me to my feet and into his arms, his lips finding mine in a kiss that tastes of chocolate chips, caramel, and promises. I melt into him, into the safety and excitement of our future together.

When we finally break apart, both breathless, he lays his forehead on mine. “I love you, Sora.”

“I love you too.”

As we settle back into our seats, both of us unable to stop smiling, I find myself staring at the ring on my finger. The small star catches the light, sending prisms dancing across the table.

“How long have you been planning this?” I ask.

“A while.” His smile is soft, reminiscent.

I shake my head, amazed at how life works out sometimes. “And you thought to hide the ring in a publishing contract?”

“I figured it was fitting. Your writing brought us together, after all.” He gestures to the contract, still open on the table.

“So this publisher…they really love my books?”

“They do. And they’ll do right by them.” He reaches across the table to take my hand, his thumb brushing over the new ring. “Just like I’ll do right by you.”

A year ago, I would have given anything for a Big Five contract.

It was all I could think about—the prestige, the confirmation that I’d finally “made it.” But sitting here now, with the perfect man, a ring on my finger, and a contract from a publisher who truly believes in my work, I realize how much my definition of success has changed.

Success isn’t a big advance or seeing my name on a bestseller list, though those things would be nice. Success is having people who believe in you, who support you through the hard times, who celebrate your victories no matter how small. Success is finding joy in the process, not just the outcome.

Success is this —a man who loves me despite my neuroses and obsessions, who sees my value even when I can’t, who wants to build a life with me in two different states because home isn’t a place, it’s wherever we’re together.

“We should get going,” I say, reluctantly. “Can’t be late for Dakota’s last day of school.”

Forrest nods, gathering our things. As we stand to leave, I take one last look around the coffeehouse—the scene of so many pivotal moments in my story. The place where a cocky, hot dad and his adorable daughter stole my cookie and inadvertently changed the course of my life.

The woman I was a year ago would have ended this moment with a whispered, “The End”—my signature way of punctuating a perfect, storybook conclusion. But now, with Forrest’s hand in mine and the weight of a star on my finger, that phrase no longer fits.

Because this isn’t an ending at all.

It’s the beginning.