I did it.
I look around the room with a wide smile, proud of everything I’ve managed to accomplish over the last year.
Everyone is here to celebrate with me, and I still can’t believe this is my life.
“To Scout!” From beside me, Miller shoots me that grin of his that’s become my favorite thing in the world. “My favorite girl, my favorite donut maker, and now my favorite published author.” He winks. “I’m so proud of you, woman.”
“Miller…” I groan, but even with him calling me woman in front of everyone, I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face.
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am at this moment.
“To Scout!” everyone echoes, lifting their glasses in the air.
I smile at them politely, dying on the inside at all the attention.
When Miller said he was throwing me a party, I laughed it off, but I should have known he wasn’t kidding.
He really wasn’t kidding: he rented out an entire room at a hotel that cost way too much, hired a DJ, got catering, and invited about a hundred people I don’t know. It’s over the top and completely ridiculous, but it’s all Miller, which makes me love it.
He wraps his arm around me, pulling me in close. I slide mine around his neck the best I can.
“I mean it—I’m incredibly proud of you. You published a book and sold another! Can you believe it?”
“I truly can’t.”
That silly story I started about the virgin hockey player? After some heavy edits, Miller convinced me to keep it and self-publish it under a pseudonym. I did, then I wrote and published two more with plans for another three in the series. The sales have been steady, and the reviews are solid so far. I’m damn proud of my work.
I’m equally proud of the other book my agent sold, the one I sent to Miller. I started querying right away and somehow managed to land an agent who was okay with me wanting to be a hybrid author. A month ago, I got the news I’d been waiting for since I was a kid: my book got picked up by a publisher.
We just finalized the contract this morning.
“Nobody I know deserves this more than you,” he says. “I hope you know that.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. “I don’t think I could have done it without your support.”
“Yes, you could have. I know you, Scout—you’re a lot more badass than you give yourself credit for.”
I feel the heat creep into my cheeks. “Well, thank you. You’re pretty badass yourself. I know the season’s over, but you guys got so far in the postseason!”
“Yeah, but we didn’t get the Cup.”
“You can’t get every Cup. That doesn’t mean you didn’t kick ass.”
“That goal against Tampa was incredible, huh?” He looks so proud of himself, as he should be. It’s the goal that had them winning the tied series and moving on to the next round. They ultimately lost in Game Seven, but it was still a hard-fought series.
“It was pretty hot.”
“Hot, huh?”
“Oh, so hot. You know, when Harper said hockey makes her horny, I thought she was nuts, but I get it now.”
“Okay, first, I love it when you talk about being horny for me and for hockey. However, I’d rather not know that information about Harper and Wright.”
I laugh. “That’s fair. That’d be like me getting information about Stevie and—”
“Ah! No. Stop right there. I don’t want to hear that info either.”
“Can you believe they’re together?”
“It was the last thing I ever expected, that’s for certain.”
“Me too. I thought she was done after Macie’s dad, but here she is. Here they are.”
“Wild year, huh?”
“The wildest,” I agree.
“There’s my girl!” my dad shouts, shoving Miller out of the way and wrapping his arms around me.
I laugh as I hug him back, and Miller stands over my dad’s shoulder, shaking his head with a grin.
“Hey, Dad. Where’s Ernesto?”
My dad points over to the dessert table, where his boyfriend is carefully picking over the sugary treats with Macie. For every treat Ernesto puts on his plate, he puts one on hers. They’re both piled high, and I don’t envy whoever is watching her this evening.
“Peas in a pod, those two,” he comments with a grin on his face. He was resistant to Ernesto’s advances at first and they took it slow, but now they’re inseparable. I know for a fact Ernesto is going to ask my father to move in with him because he asked for my permission first, something I thought was unnecessary but still adorable.
“He loves her,” I say, then I peek up at him. “And you.”
“Yeah, I know. He’s not the only one falling in love with a Thomas.” My dad gives Miller a pointed glance then looks over at Stevie, who is currently in the arms of a Comets player, being dipped backward. “Seems like we’ve had a streak of good luck lately, especially you, Little Miss Published Author. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m proud of me too.”
“And Pops is too.” He puts his hand over his heart. “I can feel it.”
Tears spring to my eyes, but I will myself to not cry. “I feel it too.”
And I mean that. I’ve continued going to therapy and stepping out of my comfort zone. I still have times when I want to retreat and times when the grief is just too much, but I push through it and always make it out okay on the other side.
Having my books to escape into helps, as does having Miller around. I hated pushing him away before, but I think it was for the best. I needed to find myself before I gave a piece of me away to someone else.
“Well, I just wanted to check on you. I’m sure you have to make the rounds and want to get back to your friends. Ernesto and I are heading out after he’s done with that plate. I’m putting an end to it before he gets sugar sick like at your first book launch.” Dad shakes his head, but I know he loves his boyfriend.
“Thanks for coming.”
He looks offended. “Like I’d ever miss this.” He plants a kiss on my head then shakes Miller’s hand. “Always good to see you, son.”
Just like every time he says it, Miller lights up when my father calls him son. It’s sweet and a little sad, but I’m happy that even though Miller has a crappy relationship with his own parents, he doesn’t have that with mine.
“Likewise, Dan.”
With one last quick hug, my dad takes off, and Miller wraps his arm back around me.
“He’s right, you know—Ernesto isn’t the only one falling for a Thomas.”
“That so?”
“That’s so. I still fall for you every day.”
“That’s a really cheesy thing to say, Miller.”
“What can I say? I think your romance novels are rubbing off on me.”
Miller, the ever-supportive man that he is, insists on reading my books for authenticity from a sports dude’s perspective. I won’t lie, his insight has come in handy, not to mention it’s kind of fun to have someone to map out the sex scenes with.
“You love them.”
“I love you,” he says, dragging me closer into his arms, wrapping them around my waist and sliding them dangerously low. I know for certain if we weren’t in a crowded room right now, he’d already have his hands on my ass. “I can’t wait to slide this forest green dress off you tonight.”
“I can’t wait to let you slide it off.”
He dips his head, lips at my ear. “I can’t wait to see you on your knees staring up at me when we get inside.”
My heart pounds, and a shiver races down my spine at his words.
“Inside our apartment,” he adds, and another shudder runs through me as he dips his hands just an inch lower.
I was already spending all of my time at Miller’s place anyway, so we made it official two weeks ago. It’s been two weeks full of nonstop sex, and I’m so not complaining.
“Are you allowed to leave your own party early?” he whispers, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear then down across my neck. “There are so many things I want to do to you tonight, Scout.”
Another tremor. “I’m sure there are rules against it, but I kind of don’t care right now.”
“Kind of?”
“Definitely not. Do not care at all.”
“That so?”
More kisses, and my knees begin to shake.
“You have to stop,” I groan.
“I don’t…”
Kiss.
“…think…”
Kiss.
“…I can.”
I shift my hands up his neck, running them through the ends of his hair, tugging until he’s looking at me with hazy, lust-filled golden eyes. “Then take me home, Grady.”
A deep growl moves through his chest, and my wish gets granted.
I finally get my happily ever after.
