Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“I didn’t know we had a basket-weaving team,” Terry says.
“Terry, shut up.” Luke is on Shawn’s FaceTime, stuck in traffic on his way up to us. They all want to meet Cordelia, who… should be here any minute.
“Here’s another one,” Shawn says. “‘Steve Smith taught me how to read. I had been struggling with vowel sounds in the first grade and was behind all my friends in reading. I told this sad story to Steve while Essie was signing Master Choke for me five years ago. Steve hugged me like a long-lost friend. Then he put up a finger, said, “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” and then he travelled back in time, taught me how to sound out the vowels, erased all the stress and drama around my traumatic childhood reading experience, and came back holding a Polaroid of the two of us sitting together at a tiny desk in my first-grade classroom. I’ll never forget how Steve Smith turned my life around at age six. #TrueStorySteve.’”
There are now five hundred seventy-two comments on Eden’s post. At first, they were all people I recognized telling true stories about me, Steve. All the little things I do at the convention, mostly. The entire housekeeping staff on the Aria convention floor all talked about how I was their friend. Lots of authors chimed in, and readers, of course.
But Eden’s post went viral in the past half-hour or so and now it’s just complete strangers making up stories about how I helped them.
It’s like… a homage to the HEA.
Which, not gonna lie, touches my fuckin’ heart and brings a little tear to my eye.
“Oh, my God, listen to this one!” Shawn is laughing.
“Enough, enough,” I say. “We get it. I’m a meme.”
Which is ironic, because it turns out that it’s not always bad to be a meme. And even though there are still numerous nasty hashtags out there about me, #TrueStorySteve is the only one trending right now.
The doorbell rings and all of us look at the man cave door with wide eyes and mouths open.
“She’s here,” I whisper.
“Quick! Places, everyone!” Terry claps his hands.
“It’s just the three of us, dude,” Shawn says. “Chill.”
“Four of us, you dick!” Luke is still on FaceTime. “Tilt me up a little, I can’t see anything.”
We line up in front of the gaming station, standing up straight, slicking back our hair, shuffling our feet.
Straining. Leaning forward. Trying to figure out what’s taking so long. I mean, Terry’s house is huge, but you can’t get lost in it.
“Did she get lost?” Luke asks. “I don’t see anything.”
“Oh!” Terry says, playfully smacking himself on the forehead. “The kids! She’s gotta get past the kids.”
And then there she is! My lovely Cordelia is standing in the doorway to the man cave wearing… I tilt my head a little.
“Is that a unicorn horn?” Luke asks.
“Shut up, Luke,” Terry side-mouths. “You’re ruining the moment.”
My lovely Cordelia is indeed wearing a unicorn horn. Plus a purple tutu and she’s covered in glitter.
I cover my mouth to stop the laugh.
“I’m not sure what just happened, but…” Cordelia spits some glitter out, then smiles at me as she tentatively raises her hand in greeting. “Hi.”
I almost fall over swooning. But that’s not the part I play in this scene. So I control myself.
I walk over to her, take her hand, and kiss it as I stare down into her melty-chocolate brown eyes. “Hi.”
And everything that happens next is just… a brand-new dream.
Mike and Essie drop by.
Shawn’s wife comes over with their kids.
Luke finally shows up after battling traffic.
We spend the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening just hanging out. And the funny thing is, it feels like… like we’ve always been these people. This group feels like it was inevitable.
Not to mention easy. And even though my life is nothing but angst, and drama, and conflict right now—there is no angst, drama, or conflict here.
And while these three things are the recipe for exciting books, in real life—no, thank you.
I’m still being sued.
Half of Romancelandia still hates me.
I could be broke in the near future.
But I don’t care.
The only thing I care about is what’s happening all around me right now.
Friends, family, and loved ones.
Of course, my phone is still buzzing nonstop. Authors, friends, even Mom and Dad. I ignore everyone but Dad when he calls, because that’s a loose end and I need to know if I’ve ruined their good thing over in Arizona. So I answer that one. “Hey. How did it go, Dad? Did they kick you out?”
“Did they kick us out?” Dad bellows. “Did they kick us out! Son, I told them to shove it. Shove it right up their behinds. Because you know what?”
I’m smiling. “What?”
“You’re our son. And of course you’re gonna make mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. But you’re our son, Steve. And I told them… ‘He’s my son and I’m on his side. I’m always going to be on his side.’”