Page 48 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

ALL ABOARD

Hazel

A year later…

Lacey’s story is releasing in one week, so Axel and I are slipping away for a vacation before we go on a tour around the United States together to promote the book.

His Brooks Dean romantic thriller released a few months ago to rave reviews.

I’m so proud of him, and I read some of the best ones to him.

Then his agent sent him a bottle of scotch.

My vineyard owner story came out too, and I can’t complain about how it did, especially since Axel’s friend Bridger’s production company bought the TV rights to it.

It’s been a busy year and a damn good one.

A whirlwind of creativity and sex and love and friendships.

But I’m eager for some downtime with my guy, just him and me, taking a train trip.

JHB expanded its operations, with a luxury train route that runs along the Italian coast and stops in several seaside towns.

Bring on the pasta, the sunshine, the wine, and the long, lazy mornings in bed with my favorite person.

But first, we fly into Rome, where I’m a little jet lagged. It’s nothing a day traipsing around the city won’t cure.

After a cup of coffee, we head to the Fontana dei Libri, since Axel claims we need a picture.

I shoot him a look. “You’re not a picture person.”

“Give a guy a chance to change, Hazel. C’mon.”

When we reach the small fountain where we first reconnected more than a year ago, I dip my hand into my jeans pocket, rooting around for some coins. I know what to wish for so I toss a nickel in right away, then turn to Axel to hand him one.

But he’s no longer right next to me.

He’s on one knee.

My heart catches.

“Don’t marry a bed,” he begins. “Marry me, Hazel Valentine. I love you more than coffee, more than wine, more than being right, more than books, more than stories. I love you more than I ever imagined, more than I thought you’d let me love you.

And I want to spend the rest of my life bickering, bantering, loving, and being with you. Just you.”

It’s too late to stop the waterworks and I don’t even try. I sink to my knees where the man I spend my days and nights with slides a gorgeous emerald onto my finger.

Then, I hold his face. “My wish just came true. To be with you always.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, full of swagger and love, “you’re stuck with me.”

“And hold the tuna,” I say, then we kiss in front of the fountain of books.

Fitting for the next chapter in the story of my so-called love life.