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As I told the rest of the story, Iris’s eyes began to droop. As I reached the part of Tanna’s stalker attack, I watered it down as usual. “And after the princess had beaten the evil step-sister, she held the magic sword over her head triumphantly. Eventually, the prince stumbled inside. ‘You’re late,’ announced the princess. The prince rolled his eyes at her. ‘Traffic,’ he said.”
“That’s not how I remember it.”
He stood in the doorway, award in hand. Fully awake, Iris squealed and jumped off my lap and into Julian’s waiting arms. “I seen you on the teebee, Daddy!”
“Hmmm.” Julian pursed his mouth. “I thought I told my Iris Rose to go to bed.”
Smiling sweetly, my beautiful child pointed a finger and sold me out. “Mommy said I could.”
He laughed. “Well, how about you let Mommy put you to bed?”
She shook her long dark hair. “No, you.”
Never one to resist her, he brushed the hair out of her eyes and headed down the hallway. “Okay, but on the way, let’s get a few things straight, little princess. The prince never stumbled anywhere. And when he found the princess? She begged him to marry her.”
***
I was already in bed by the time Julian opened the door.
“She okay?” I asked, eyeing him as he stripped off his clothes.
“Yeah. After I set a few inaccuracies straight in your little fantasy tale.”
“It’s called a fairy tale, Julian.”
“Not the way you tell it.”
I chuckled as he climbed into bed and ran a hand across my swollen belly. “Not much longer, huh?”
“Three weeks,” I said, grimacing. “I’m not sure how much bigger it’s physically possible for me to get.”
He grinned. “Hey, you popped two eggs out, woman. I just provided the electricity to light them up.”
I kissed him and wrinkled my nose. “Your visuals are disturbing. Besides, twins don’t run on my side, Bale.”
“What the hell are we going to do with two boys?”
I thought for a minute. “Invest in a lot of air freshener?”
His deep-rooted chuckle sent tingles down my spine as he rolled onto his side. “I meant to text you earlier. I read the review in the New York Times. Congratulations, Mrs. Biographer. How does it feel to have a best seller on your hands?”
“Feels like I cut a vein open and bled all over some pages.”
Julian had insisted since we were married that MetroGroup Publishing change our original contract. The deal was no longer for an autobiography and a ghostwriter. He and Kristina secured a multi-million dollar renegotiation offer for “our” story. Written in my voice. Penned by me…Phoebe Bale.
Since the reviews had come out, and the book had topped pretty much every best seller list out there, I’d gotten at least four big name publishers offering me contracts.
I’d achieved the entire reason I’d moved to New York in the first place.
My eyes caught Julian’s Grammy sitting on the dresser. “I wish I could’ve been there with you tonight.”
He didn’t hesitate. “You were.”
I burrowed my head in his chest, one of my favorite places. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You said during your acceptance speech I was your inspiration, but the truth is, I couldn’t be if you weren’t what you’ve always been to me.
