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Maybe Richard Wells has some wisdom for me in the last few pages.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
Richard smiled. “You.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you,” he said. “And I’m never going to stop.”
It was a line from one of my books. One that we wrote together. He owned as much of our story as I did.
“I love you, too,” I said.
Richard pulled me closer to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and the world went quiet.
Just the way we liked it.
I turn the page, hoping for more.
Ah, damn.
That’s it?
I set the book down on the tray in front of my seat.
“Did you finish it?” Paige asks beside me.
I nod. “Yeah, I finished it.”
She turns in her seat, abandoning her paperwork and giving me her full, undivided attention. “And?”
“It was okay,” I say.
“Okay?!”
“I was hoping for a bit more at the end.”
“They’re happy. They’re in love. What more do you want?”
“Someone could have been stabbed at least once,” I joke.
Paige snorts. “Jeez...”
“I’m kidding,” I say. “But—I think they could have punished the villain a little harsher. The, uh... the lawyer guy.”
“Tristan!” she says excitedly. “He gets his own book!”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s totally crazy. I thought the same thing as you when I first read Soulmates, but I did a complete one-eighty once I read Deep Midnight. Tristan is so misunderstood.”
“Let me guess,” I say with a sigh. “He has a deeply tragic backstory?”
“Yes!”
I roll my eyes. Figures.
“You have to read it,” Paige says. “I’ll lend you my copy.”
