Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Beautiful and happy and mine.
epilogue
. . .
Leo
Two years later…
“Quiet on set. We’ll cue music first, Fred, then the actors. Let’s get this final scene in the can and head home for the holidays.” Caroline’s voice is tinny through the studio speakers but holds the same confidence it has since the day she put on her first show-runner headset.
She’s a natural at keeping our cast and crew organized, inspired, and on time.
And I’m far more comfortable in front of the cameras than I ever thought I’d be.
It helps that I’m only playing bit parts in our new comedy show’s sketches, and that I’m supported by people I trust. Ainsley was born to produce, leaving me more time to focus on leading the writers’ room, and our director, Fred, is equally incredible.
But we don’t need much from Fred for this scene aside from the cues. We just need our guest host to wish the viewers at home a Happy New Year—we’re filming our New Year’s Eve special a week early to give the editing team time to cut the footage—and the band to play us out.
“And five, four, three,” Fred calls out, falling silent as he mouths the final two numbers and points toward Biff, our band leader.
Biff and his musicians launch into a bluesy version of Auld Lang Syne and our host, a precocious teen pop singer who turned out to be a delightful comedic actress walks onstage, waving at the cameras. She’s followed by the rest of the cast, minus yours truly.
I’m only a bit player, after all, and our stage is small.
But that will be changing soon. The Laugh Bag filled a family-friendly comedy show niche the network didn’t realize was desperate for content until we took off in the ratings. Turns out, families are dying for something to watch together that’s just pure, whacky fun. We’ll be moving to a larger theater space in the new year and testing what it’s like to film some of our episodes in front of a live audience.
I couldn’t be more excited or prouder of what Caroline and I created.
This show is one of the best things I’ve ever done, with the exception of Bump.
We don’t know yet if Bump is a boy or a girl—we decided we’d rather be surprised—but I already know I’m going to love our baby with everything in me, just like I love his or her mother.
Half an hour later, after filming has wrapped and Caroline and I are standing outside the theater, waving goodbye to the newly engaged Ainsley and Trevor, I marvel again that this magical woman is mine.
“Want to cut through the Union Square holiday market on the way home?” she asks, leaning into my hug. “Get more of that spicy kettle corn to bring to Mom and Dad’s hotel tomorrow?”
“You’re a spicy kettle corn addict,” I tease.
“It’s not me, it’s Bump,” she says, motioning toward her midsection. “He needs spicy kettle corn to grow big and strong. He told me so.”
I mold a hand to her enormous belly. Bump is due in just two weeks, so Cherry and Bart came to the city for Christmas this year. We’ve been having a blast showing Caroline’s parents the sites and eating at all our favorite restaurants, but I secretly hope they’re back in Vermont before the baby comes. I adore my in-laws, but a selfish part of me doesn’t want to share the moment we welcome our child into the world with anyone but Caroline.
“You think he’s a boy?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat as he kicks at my palm, as energetic as he always is this time of night.
She covers my hand with hers, smiling as Bump shifts again. “That’s what Gran said when we were home for Thanksgiving. She said I was carrying too low for it to be a girl.”
“That sounds scientific.”
Caroline laughs. “Very. But Gran’s never guessed wrong before. She predicted the sex of both of Vivian’s kids.”
I grunt. “How is the whackiest relative in Reindeer Corners?”
Vivian’s easier to manage now that she’s been in therapy for going on two years, but she’ll never be my favorite person. There’s too much water under the bridge between us for that. Though family holidays are far less awkward than I feared when Caroline and I first got together.
Vivian even came to our wedding nearly two years ago today. She left before the reception, but she was there in the church in Reindeer Corners when we said our “I dos,” a show of support that I know meant a lot to Caroline.
“Vivian is fine.” The love of my life arches a wry brow. “But definitely still whacky. She just dropped two thousand dollars on penis pop candy molds for the maple syrup shop. She’s convinced that she’s going to take the Vermont bachelorette party business by storm.”