Billion Dollar Enemy: Epilogue

Skye smiles and pushes back her hair, accepting the huge bouquet given to her. “Thank you,” she says, though I’m too far away to hear the words. I’m familiar enough with her lips to read them without effort.

She’s wearing the floral dress I’d bought her. I’d seen it walking by a high-end store and picked it up without much fuss—simply because I wanted to see it on her. I’d known the silken fabric would look amazing on her, and I’d been right. It shines in the low bookstore lighting.

Skye had argued against the purchase, of course, as she so often does. You can’t spend this kind of money on me, Cole.

It’s taken me a lot of effort to meet those arguments with logic and understanding. Now, nearly two years into our relationship, she’s much better at accepting it. I have more money than I would need if I lived a hundred lifetimes. A nice restaurant for dinner makes the both of us happy; a beautiful gift is something I enjoy getting for her. The point of working so hard, after all, has always been to one day enjoy the fruits of that labor. And there’s no one I want to enjoy it with more than her.

Karli breaks me out of my musings, stopping at my side. “She’s earned this,” she says, both of us watching as someone asks Skye to sign a book. The pride in her voice echoes mine.

“She certainly has,” I say warmly.

“The renovation of Between the Pages turned out beautifully,” she says softly. “I never doubted you, nor Skye. And still… this is better than my wildest dreams.” She sweeps an arm out at the expanded space. More little nooks and crannies have been added. Nearly every section has been enlarged. And yet, the original structure and the old-fashioned charm is intact. The old spiral staircase remains, and in the corner stands a ratty armchair. Antique beams have been installed, and books surround us like trees in a forest.

“I’m glad you approve,” I say smoothly. “And you know you’re welcome to take back the operational role if you ever want it.”

Karli gives a little laugh. “Thank you. I appreciate it, but I doubt that. I’m enjoying my new job too much.”

“Good,” I say. “Because you’re about to get busy.”

“I am?”

“My company regularly has meetings and events where we need baked goods. I gave the name of your new bakery to my head of planning. Expect a call this week.”

Karli’s eyes widen. “Cole, I couldn’t ask that of you. It’s too much.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Besides,” I say with a wink, “Skye has brought me some of your cupcakes. I’m doing my own employees a favor here.”

Karli swallows. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, I have to. And thank you for this,” she says in a low voice. “For the bookstore, for Skye… for making her happy. For all of it.”

“I won’t say you’re welcome to that,” I say firmly. “Not when it’s so clearly benefitted me too.”

“Right,” Karli notes. “The hotel.”

But that’s not what I’d meant at all. “No, although that too. I meant Skye.”

“You’re good for each other,” she says. “Will you excuse me for a moment? I want to check on the caterers. I think I just saw a tray of unpowdered beignets being served…”

I can’t help smiling. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks…” She’s already heading off, pushing through the throngs of customers. Above us, the Skye Hotel stretches ten stories tall. Between the Pages set the tone for the decor, all dark tones and Old European furniture. It’s comfort and culture all rolled into one.

Skye had protested at first. You can’t name the hotel after me! But it was a stellar name, and I loved seeing it on all my documents. And after I’d proposed it to my team… well, it took on a life of its own. Soon, I couldn’t change it even if I wanted to—and I certainly didn’t.

I turn back to watch her talk to a customer, happiness clear in her features. This is a day she’s earned. Becoming co-owner of the newly re-opened Between the Pages has done her good.

So has the release of her debut novel.

Maybe she feels me looking at her, or maybe her eyes roam of their own accord… but she sees me standing in the wings.

A smile lights up her face. It’s a private one, meant just for me, and it’s filled with intimacy. I watch as she excuses herself and a few seconds later she’s in my arms. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am.”

She glances back at the line, at the crowd. “Can you believe this?”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s a fantastic book, Skye. They see it. That’s what they’re here for.”

“Not to mention Brooks & King pulled out all the stops for this launch party,” she says archly, but her eyes dance. “I can’t believe I’m having a book reading of my own.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes. I’d have to be dead not to be.”

I kiss her, reassuring, warm. “You’re going to knock them dead, baby.”

Her hands flex around my shoulders. In the dim light, her engagement ring glitters. “Thank you.”

“And as soon as you’re done you’ll be drinking champagne, a celebrated author, basking in people’s congratulations.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just what I wrote the book for.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, they say.” I bend down further, my lips against her ear. “But I love it when you use it.”

I can feel Skye’s smile against my skin. “I hate you,” she says.

“Yes, that’s it.”

She leans into my side and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into my body. “I’m so proud of you. Now go out there and kick ass.”

And she does. I stand in the back, watching as she takes a seat on the impromptu stage. Edwin Taylor clears his throat into the mic, and the crowd quiets. “We’re here today to listen to Skye Holland, our newest author, read an excerpt from her debut novel. But first—what inspired you to write this novel?”

Skye’s answer is lengthy, and personal, and I watch several people dab at their eyes. Eleanor’s dream became her dream, and with it, the bookstore. Her eyes flicker to Karli in the front row.

She reads a passage from the book to rapt silence. It’s an excerpt I’ve heard many times before—she’s been practicing this reading with me as her audience—and still… I want to burst with pride.

She accomplished her dream, and I know it’s only the beginning.

I join in on the feverish applause as she finishes up. Her smile, shy and proud at the same time, makes me ache inside. Hard to believe she’s all mine, sometimes.

“Cole!” Timmy pushes his way through the crowd to me. “There you are!”

I pull him in for a half-hug. “Man, you get taller every time I see you.”

He straightens a bit. “I know. I’m getting faster, too. Yesterday at practice I managed to get two home runs.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I had to tell you.”

“That’s impressive.” I put a hand on his shoulder and he beams up at me. Two years with Skye has also meant two years with her family, and while Isla and I still don’t see eye to eye, Timmy is mine to the bone.

“We’re still going to the game on Saturday, right? You and me?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say. Timmy and I go to most games by ourselves now. Skye joins occasionally, but she’s just as happy to send us off for what she calls “guy time.” I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’m currently in talks with the team to organize a meet-and-greet with the players for Timmy’s birthday.

Isla joins her son and shoots me a polite smile. She shares Skye’s brown hair and hazel eyes, but she wears the features so differently that they hardly look related. “This is beautiful, what you’ve done for Skye,” she says.

“Thanks,” I respond, “but she wrote the book by herself. Got it published herself, too.”

Isla smiles, but there’s a glint in her eye that tells me she’s not convinced. I swallow my anger and look for Skye in the crowd again. She’s glowing. As the months have gone on, she’s learned to tune out her older sister’s negative energy. As for myself, I only grow more and more incensed by it.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Isla says. “She’s worked very hard. But then again, having you as a boyfriend certainly can’t hurt.”

She says it with a wink, but there’s nothing humorous about the implication. As Skye’s success has bloomed, Isla’s little comments have grown in rancor. “Fiancé,” I correct. “And if I’ve given anything, it’s only been moral support.”

Isla snorts good-naturedly, but it doesn’t fool me. She’s not convinced. I leave her behind in search of my fiancée, finding her halfway through her first glass of champagne and with a beautiful flush of excitement on her cheeks. I slide an arm around her waist. “The reading went so well.”

“It did, didn’t it?” In her heels and her sleek dress, she’s somehow professional and irresistible at the same time. It reminds me of how she’d looked at Legacy, the first time I’d seen her. Mysterious and alluring. “I’ve signed so many books, too. Do you want your own copy?” she asks, eyes glittering. “Who should I make it out to?”

“Dear stud,” I say.

“Oh, of course. I can’t believe I even needed to ask.”

“I forgive you,” I say. “I’ll accept ‘to my future husband,’ too.”

“I like the sound of that.” She stands on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Should we head to dinner soon? I don’t want to keep Blair and your mom waiting.”

“We can go now,” I say. “Do you feel finished here?”

“I do. I’m not sure how much more attention I can take.” Her voice is playful, but the sentiment is genuine. Being the center of attention—having a function revolve entirely around you—is tiring as hell. I’d know.

I take her hand in mine. “Then come on, baby. Let’s get out of here.”

We make our way out of Between the Pages and the Skye Hotel, out to where Charles is waiting with the car. I open the door for her and she slides into the backseat. Charles gives her a warm hello, shooting me an excited smile. He’s in on the surprise.

“I’ve gained a whole new appreciation for you tonight,” Skye says.

“You have?”

“Yes. For handling all those press conferences and interviews without breaking a sweat.”

“Well, I’ve had a fair bit of practice.” Reaching over, I put a hand on her knee. “And I hope you’re not completely worn out. We’re making a surprise stop before dinner. I have something to show you.”

“You do?” Her eyes instantly alight with mischief, a smile on her lips. I press a kiss to her temple. Two years in, and those eyes still get me going.

“Just something to celebrate my author wife.”

“Author fiancée,” she corrects. “We’re not married yet.”

“Because someone can’t decide on a venue.”

She tugs at my arm, mock outrage in her voice. “Try finding a place that will fit two hundred people and still feel intimate.”

“I would be happy eloping,” I say. “I’ve said that since the beginning.”

Skye rolls her eyes at me, scooting over until she can rest a hand on my thigh. “You say that, but then I ask you about guests, and you rattle off a list a mile long. I know what you’re doing, you know.”

“What am I doing?”

“Using our wedding as a chance to network. It’s like you’re giving out favors to people, because you know they’ll appreciate being invited, and they’ll inevitably be more positive to your developments because of it.”

I open my mouth to argue, but what’s she’s saying is too spot on. Skye grins in triumph. “See? And I don’t object, but that means I’m inviting a dozen authors and half the publishers in Seattle.”

I wrap an arm around her. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“No,” she lies. “Tell me again.”

I murmur it against her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Will you please tell me where we’re going now?”

“Good try, but no.”

“Torturing someone with suspense isn’t a very loving thing to do.”

I laugh, my hand tightening around her waist. “You’re not the least bit tortured.”

“Perhaps I’m just good at keeping it all inside.”

Her hair smells like flowers underneath my lips. “You did well tonight. I’m so proud of you. The bookstore. The book. The reading. You’re born for this, baby.”

She’s quiet for a few moments before she murmurs “thank you” into my neck. It’s muffled with emotion, and this, this right here is what I love the most with Skye. It’s always real between us. Every word, every touch. Not once have I had to wonder if she cares about me, and I’ve done my best to make sure she never wonders it about me.

Trust. Communication. Love.

All the things I never had in previous relationships. Experiencing it with Skye now, it’s obvious how false my last one had been. To believe I’d ever missed Elena!

“You know,” I say, “If I were to meet Ben now, I’d shake his hand in thanks.”

She turns to look up at me. “You would?”

“Without hesitation,” I say. “He helped pave my way to you.”

Skye’s mouth drops open slightly, her gaze locked on mine. She’s speechless. I’d smile at the sight if I wasn’t knocked over by the emotion in her eyes.

“Oh, Cole,” she murmurs. “I love you so much.”

I clear my throat and look past her, at the driveway we’re turning onto. The large gate swings open on our approach. It diffuses the moment, and I’m glad of that, because this conversation has drifted into territory I’d rather not have Charles exploring with us.

“We’re here,” I say softly.

Charles parks the car in front of a large porch. The house is three stories tall, the facade white brick and ivy. Skye climbs out of the car before I can open her door, eyes wide. Artfully placed lights illuminate the beautiful brick inlays. “What’s this?”

“It’s a house,” I say.

“I can see that, silly. Who lives here?”

“No one, currently. What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful. There’s so much charm.” She runs her hand through the little pealing fountain in the center of the driveway. “There are lights on inside. Are you sure no one lives here?”

“Positive.” I take her hand in mine and pull her along up the stairs. “Do you want to look inside?”

“Can we? Cole, what is this place really?”

“It’s a suggestion.” I open the front door wide for her. Charles had prepped the place before, and there are lanterns everywhere, all filled with burning candles. The lights line the double staircases. They illuminate a large living room. Even devoid of furniture, it’s easy to picture the place filled with life and love.

Skye walks ahead of me. Her silk dress shimmers in the candlelight, her hair a waterfall down her back. “Oh my God. It’s magnificent.”

I put my hands in my pockets and follow her as she explores the bottom floor. “It’s spacious,” I say. “Has a great view, too.”

She stops dead in the living room. “Oh, look at this fireplace. It’s massive.”

“There’s two, actually. The master bedroom has one as well.”

“Oh, and look at all these built-in bookshelves!”

“Let me show you the best part.” Grabbing her hand in mine again, I lead her onto the back porch. It opens up onto a wide lawn and beyond it, the million-dollar view over Puget Sound.

“Oh my God, Cole.”

“Beautiful, right?”

“Yes.” I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my head atop hers. For a few moments, both of us stand in silence, taking in the view. “I’ve bought it,” I say finally. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re insane.”

“Good insane, or bad insane?”

“A bit of both.”

I run my hand over her hip. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. We can find someplace else. I can rent it out or sell it.”

“Don’t you dare sell it,” she says. “Oh Cole, it’s too much.”

I tug her firmly against me. “Of course it’s not. We’re getting married, Skye. We need a house together. One filled with knickknacks and books and all the refrigerator magnets you like.”

“No minimalism?”

“Nope. I’ve left that behind.”

“And no fake fruit?”

I snort. “None at all.”

“Good.” She relaxes against me, her hand on top of mine. “And maybe a few kids one day?”

The tentative hope in her voice makes me smile. Before her, children had felt so distant. As had buying a house. But here with her, in this place, with my ring on her finger… I can’t wait. “Yes,” I say. “As many as you want.”

“Good. We need drawings, you know, for all the refrigerator magnets.”

“Right, of course. What else are kids for?”

Her sigh is one of pure happiness. “And so they lived happily ever after for the rest of their days…”

I laugh, turning her around in my arms so I can see her eyes. They blaze with joy. “Are you narrating our life?”

“Perhaps. You’re marrying a writer, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” I tip her head back to close the distance between us. “And I am very glad you came to Legacy that night to do research.”

Her words are a soft whisper against my lips. “Not as happy as I am.”

“Oh? Want to bet?”

“Sure, but you know what happens when you make deals with me.”

My smile is wide. “You win, I know. But somehow I like that even more than myself winning. Funny, that.”

“Love,” she says softly. “It’s called love. And that’s a wager we both won.”