“Ha!” she countered. “Like anything I do could make you any more beautiful than you already are. You know I’m just doing this because it helps promote my brand. You’re already the brightest, most beautiful star in the sky.”
“Am I paying for this session?” I teased.
She grinned and joked, “Even with all your millions, you couldn’t afford me.”
I rolled my eyes at her and said, “You’re the world’s greatest best friend.”
“I know. You’re one lucky bitch to have me, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Shut up and do my makeup,” I ordered.
Elise got back to work on my face. She worked silently for several long minutes. Then she said, “I’m just as lucky as you are, Scarlet.”
Since I couldn’t risk getting emotional again, I didn’t respond. But I would have been lying if I didn’t admit that her words made my heart swell just a little bit.
And it was a good thing I had so much of that good feeling stored up. Because hours later, right at the end of my signing, I realized why I’d had a weird vibe all day long.
Fourteen years after I last saw him, seven years after I should have called him, Ryker Holt was standing on the opposite side of my table.
Nothing could have prepared me for it.
Give You Up.
Don’t Want This.
Best for You.
I Choose You.
Prove It.
Don’t Walk Away.
My Girl Forever.
Waiting for You.
Don’t Do This.
Take It Away.
Take Me with You.
Love Doesn’t Hurt.
Left with Nothing.
Can’t Go Back.
Not a Mistake.
Dig Deep.
Give You Up.
Nobody Else.
Every Part of Me.
Mine Forever.
Can I Call?
Once a Year.
Promise Me.
Never Say Goodbye.
I Won’t Call.
Seven Years.
Twenty-six books. Twenty-six. After I left work on Friday evening, I drove straight to the book store and was shocked by the number of books with Scarlet’s name on them. But beyond that, I was blown away by the fact that she’d made a successful career out of the last conversation we ever had.
I bought all of them.
Every. Single. One.
Granted, I did need to go to two other stores to get them all, but I did it. I did it because I was willing to drive anywhere to get every piece of her I could have.
And for a guy who didn’t read, I planned to read all of them. I wasn’t even halfway through the list, and I was already struggling to wrap my head around all of it.
It had been a week and a day since I learned that the woman I’d fallen in love with all those years ago had become a bestselling author. And I was left wondering if I’d learned more about her in one week from reading the first seven books she’d written than I’d learned in the three years we were together.
I was a complete mess of emotions about all of it. I was so proud of her. So proud. Obviously, I was happy to see that she seemed happy doing what she was doing now. I couldn’t imagine she’d knock out twenty-six books over the last fourteen years if she weren’t enjoying it. And it technically hadn’t been fourteen years. I went back and looked at the date. The first book had been published ten years ago.
Beyond being happy for her and proud of her, I was also incredibly surprised. I knew she’d written romance novels, but I wasn’t even remotely prepared for that first sex scene I read. On some level, I guess I expected it to be there, but once I started reading it, something came over me. To know my girl, my sweet girl, had written something so provocative and sexy was a huge turn-on.
But of all the things I felt about Scarlet’s books, it was the overwhelming sense of sadness I struggled with the most. Even though all the books I’d read so far had happy endings, I could read between the lines. Her heartache was so fresh. So raw. So deep. I could only hope that the overwhelming and obvious pain would lessen as I continued to read.
But I had serious doubts about that being the case.
Especially when I looked at the names of the titles of the books I had yet to read.
In addition to all the emotions I felt about her books, I was left with many questions.
When I read the acknowledgments at the end of each book, she thanked those that helped make her books what they were. I wasn’t surprised to see she had thanked her readers, her editor, her cover artist, and her formatter. There were two things about the acknowledgments that stuck out to me, though.
The first was that she made no mention of her parents.
None.
To ease my curiosity, I looked at that section of the book in all of the books I hadn’t yet been able to read to see if that had changed. And not once did she ever thank her parents.
The other thing that bugged me was that she extended thanks to someone she referred to as E.F. I didn’t know who that was, and I had to admit it worried me a bit. Because it wasn’t a simple thank-you-for-being-a-great-friend note. Scarlet said different things in each one.
Thanks for making me smile.
Love laughing with you.
Don’t know what I’d do without you, my rock.
Thanks for being the world’s best best friend.
Part of me liked knowing she wasn’t alone, but the other part of me was dreading the possibility that she’d moved on and found someone. And while I knew Avery had said that she believed Scarlet was single, she didn’t know Scarlet the way I did. My girl was shy. It was possible she found someone, a man, and never shared the news with her readers.
Of course, I realized it was unlikely based on the other thing in every book.
Her dedication.
Every book had a dedication.
And every dedication was the same.
To R.H.—Every part is only yours. Forever.
She dedicated every book she’d written to me. And she did it using the promise she’d made all those years ago. The same one I made to her.
To say I was feeling confused about it all was an understatement. If this was how she felt, strong enough to dedicate every book to me and have her entire catalog of books made up of bits and pieces of our last conversation with one another, why didn’t she ever call me?
Why did she just let us go?
I couldn’t even bring myself to think that she’d forgotten about us. Obviously, she hadn’t.
So, it made no sense.
And that’s when I knew I needed answers. I needed to do something about it. I had to find out why she didn’t pick up the phone.
Over the weekend, I had gone to her website. After spending several long minutes staring at the photos of her there, I navigated through the site to the section that listed her upcoming events.
Sure enough, just as Avery had said, Scarlet would be at a signing the following Saturday at a local bookstore.
I’d made up my mind.
I was going.
And I didn’t care if I was the only guy there. She was my girl. I wanted her back.
I just hoped that whatever it was that stopped her from calling me wasn’t going to be the reason she wouldn’t come back to me.
Oddly enough, when I arrived at work on Monday, I found myself lingering in the front office so that I could talk to Avery.
Once she finished scheduling a customer for a tuning appointment, she hung up the phone and asked, “Is everything okay?”