by Amy DeLuca
Bonnie shook her head, though of course he couldn’t see her horror at the suggestion. The truth was too embarrassing and completely unprofessional.
“What am I going to say… well, you see I fell in love with the interview subject, we started a relationship, and then he kicked me out?”
Who was she kidding? Charlotte probably already knew. No doubt Jack had wasted no time in calling her and giving her his side of the story, beginning and ending with how he’d caught Bonnie red-handed in his office with his printed pages in her hand.
That would be all any reasonable person would need to hear to believe she’d also been the one to pirate his first five chapters on that sleezy site. She was so fired.
Bonnie dropped into a chair at the table, letting her face fall into her cupped hands with a frustrated groan. “I’ve messed up so badly. I wish I’d never heard of Jack Bestia.”
Her father reached over and found her back, patting it. “I know you’re hurting, but that’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? You once told me his writing changed your life. It made you want to write books, too.”
“Yeah. I wish I’d never started that either. Because now that I have, all I want to do is write fiction, and it’s probably never going to go anywhere.”
The patting turned into a soothing rub. “It’s going to be all right. I’m proud of you.”
“Why? I’m about to be fired, which means I’ll probably end up getting us both evicted. How can you possibly be proud of me?”
“I’m proud of you because you tried. You put yourself out there. You took some chances. I’ve been worried about you these past few years.”
“You have?”
He nodded. “That’s one of the reasons I agreed to move into the city with you. There’s an old saying, ‘Youth is wasted on the young.’ Well in your case it was more like, ‘Sight is wasted on the sighted.’ Here I am wishing I could get out and go anywhere, do anything I want to and unable to do that while you’re young and healthy with absolutely no limitations, and yet you were spending your life hiding in your apartment whenever you weren’t at work. You’ve been going through the motions, reading and writing about other people’s lives but not going out and making one of your own. When you told me you were taking the Newport trip, I was so happy and proud because you were taking a step in the right direction. You were finally going for something you truly wanted.”
“Yeah, and look how it turned out.”
Dad smiled and ruffled Bonnie’s hair with one of his rough old hands. “There’s another wise saying. It goes, ‘The opera’s not over until the fat lady sings.’”
The house phone rang, and he stood, starting toward it. “That’ll be Aileen.”
“You’re still talking to her?”
“We talk every morning. And every evening when she’s done with work. Lovely girl. She’s getting impatient for me to visit her.” Before he picked up the phone, he said, “I’ll see you tonight, lass. Don’t be any later than you already are for work. You’re going to be all right.”
“Okay Dad. Have a good day.”
As Bonnie left the apartment, she heard him laugh and respond in the mushiest, most lovestruck voice to whatever “that lovely girl,” Aileen had said.
Glad someone’s happy. Just watch—he’d probably end up moving to Newport while Bonnie stayed here in the city alone. Her heart bottomed out.
She missed Newport. She missed Jack. Many times over the past few days she’d wondered if she’d done the wrong thing in leaving the way she had. But she always came back to this… she couldn’t spend her life with someone who didn’t trust her. She would always be walking on eggshells, waiting for the next shoe to drop, the next accusation.
She needed someone who could love her with his whole heart, who didn’t hide part of it away in a desperate effort to protect himself. If Jack couldn’t give her that, then he wasn’t the right man for her after all, no matter how much she loved him.
Still… she’d never find another man like him. He made her feel things she’d never felt with anyone else, things she didn’t even know she was capable of feeling. They’d connected at the heart. Bonnie’s ripped a little at the seams, leaking pain into her chest cavity.
When she got to the building where the newspaper’s headquarters were housed, she pushed down all those thoughts and feelings and focused on the task at hand—saving her job.
Maybe her dad was right. Maybe she should just throw herself on the mercy of the court, tell Charlotte the truth. Maybe Charlotte had been through heartbreak of her own and would understand that particular brand of crazy.
Bonnie went straight to her office to get it over with. Her door was open, so she stepped inside. Charlotte stood when she saw her, giving Bonnie a bright smile. Which was surprising. Maybe Jack hadn’t thrown her under the bus yet.
“Bonnie! Hi. Welcome back. I want to talk to you, but I’m expecting a phone call any minute that I have to take.”
Bonnie stepped forward, wiping her suddenly perspiring palms on her pants legs. “Charlotte, listen, I—”
The phone rang. Charlotte held up a finger and picked up the phone. Before bringing it to her ear she whispered, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? By the way, great job.” Another brilliant smile and a thumbs-up. Then she turned her full attention to the phone call.
Bonnie walked out of her office in a whirlwind of confusion.
Great job?
What was she talking about? Clearly, Charlotte believed she’d accomplished her mission in Newport and was returning home with a completed article. Bonnie trudged to her desk, dreading the conversation to come, when she’d have to let her boss down.
There was an envelope on her desk, a large brown, legal-sized one. She sat down and turned it over. It was thick. And heavy.
Bonnie’s lungs seized when she saw the return address. Bellevue Avenue in Newport. Oh my word. Had Jack filed a lawsuit against her or something? Breach of trust, violation of contract. He had threatened to sue the owner of the newspaper. Would she be personally liable as well?
She wanted to drop the thing and leave it on her desktop, run out of the building and back to her apartment where she might as well start packing.
But she thought of her father’s words this morning and stayed. Fingers trembling, she opened the envelope and withdrew a stack of paper from inside.
Oh. It wasn’t a lawsuit. It was… this wasn’t for real, was it?
It appeared to be the final chapters of Jack’s book. Bonnie fanned through them to make sure. Yes, on the last page she saw clearly printed the words “The End.”
She pulled off the blue folded sticky note affixed to the first page and opened it. It was a note from Jack.
Dearest Bonnie,
This is me putting my life—and my heart—in your hands. Do what you will with both of them. I trust you. More than anyone in this world. And I’ll keep working to do better on that and everything else that needs improvement. Because I love you more than anyone in this world.
Yours, Jack.
Now Bonnie’s hands shook for a whole new reason.
She looked down at the pages Jack had sent. He’d given her the ammunition to ruin his book launch and his career if she chose to. He’d given her his complete trust. It was the best gift she could ever have hoped for. She reached for her phone, intending to call him, but then she noticed it.
On the first page, in the spot where the sticky note had been attached, there was a book dedication.
To my wife Bonnie, my inspiration and my happy ending.
Bonnie started crying—not a delicate sniffle with one beautiful, glistening tear. It was a loud, unladylike ugly cry. Her co-workers stuck their heads out of their cubicles to see what was wrong with her. Even Sterling popped out of his office.
“What is that awful sound?” he moaned.
“Sorry. Sorry, everyone,” she managed to say. “I was just reading something. I’m okay.” And she was. She was more than okay. She was filled with th
e kind of joy you read about.
My wife Bonnie? His wife.
And then someone spoke up from behind her.
“It’s that bad, huh? I guess my fans are going to be disappointed.” Jack’s voice.
Bonnie jumped out of her chair and whirled around to see him standing just outside her cubicle. Her heart soared. And she cried some more.
“It’s a real tear-jerker,” she said as Jack pulled her into his arms.
He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. When they finally came up for air, Jack smiled down at her and lifted a hand to wipe the tears from her face.
“So, I finally came up with an ending,” he said.
“I saw that. But I didn’t get a chance to read it.”
“Not talking about that story—this one. Our story.”
Bonnie gave him a tremulous smile, blinking back another round of tears. “We have a story?”
“We do. It started when a beautiful, brave girl entered the home of a beast.”
“And how does it end?”
“Hopefully about sixty or seventy years from now, holding hands in our sleep. Will you marry me, Bonnie? Will you be my wife, my inspiration, and my happy ending till death do us part?”
Bonnie nodded and kissed him again, smiling mischievously. “Hmmm… I think I’ll make you wait for the last chapter to find out.”
Twenty-Two
The Last Chapter
Bonnie sank down in the hot, sudsy water up to her neck, stretching her toes and fingertips out and enjoying the luxurious spaciousness of the deep garden tub.
Jack came in and turned up the gas fireplace burning at the bath-side. “You look pretty happy in there,” he said.
“I am happy. I’ve got all my favorite things in one room—a crackling fireplace, a fabulous bathtub, and a gorgeous view of the ocean.”
“You forgot to mention the world’s most handsome husband.”
“Yes, and that, too. That most of all.”
Their spring wedding had taken place in the rose garden. Jack had picked the roses for Bonnie’s bouquet himself. In keeping with his private nature, it had been a small affair with just family and close friends in attendance.
Her father had looked regal in his new navy tuxedo. Charlotte, Else, and her sister Rachel had been bridesmaids. Jack’s brother Hunter, who had the same incredible turquoise eyes but a devilish grin all his own, was the best man.
Monsieur Laplume had been in his glory planning and preparing a feast fit for a royal wedding. Bonnie had never seen so much food or tasted anything so good.
Jack had surprised them all by inviting his father to attend the ceremony. Jack had been going to Al-Anon meetings and had begun dealing with some of the more difficult emotional consequences of growing up with an alcoholic parent.
Bonnie couldn’t say it had been a pleasure to meet the bitter, haggard-looking man, but she was proud of Jack for facing the hurts of his childhood and conquering them one by one. She would be there to help him in any way possible. And seeing his father’s behavior first-hand helped her understand more clearly just how much Jack and his younger brother had overcome.
Since then, life had been like a dream. For the past few months, Bonnie had written in the library daily, working remotely for the Review and completing her own second novel—a modern day re-telling of Beauty and the Beast.
It was the one that had gotten her an agent and a contract, and Jack liked to claim credit for all the “authentic detail” he’d inspired.
“I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to cut your nightly soak a little short or we’ll miss our dinner reservations,” he said. “It’s not every day you get to celebrate your very first publishing deal.”
Bonnie beamed up at him. “I know. I will. I really appreciate you making the reservation. Just a few more minutes?”
A wicked gleam entered Jack’s eye. He started unbuttoning his shirt. Pulling it off, he revealed the fit, muscular body she would never grow bored of looking at. He dropped the shirt on the floor. It was quickly followed by the rest of his clothing.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing? If you’re not getting out, I guess I’ll just have to get in. We don’t have to go out to celebrate, I suppose.”
He stepped into the water, and laughing, she held out her arms to him, shifting to allow him to slide in next to her.
“That’s true,” she said.
“Although, I suppose we’ll have to leave the house eventually.” Jack plucked a folded washcloth from the side of the tub and dunked it in the warm water, using it to bathe her. “Because I want to show off my beautiful wife. If they don’t get a look at you out and about soon, the tabloids might suggest I’m holding you prisoner here.”
“Oh, you would never do something like that,” Bonnie teased, splashing him playfully.
“Come here, you.” Jack tickled her then pulled her around to face him.
Crawling onto his lap, she kissed away the droplets of water that remained on his cheeks and nose.
“You know, now that the Onyx Throne series is finished, I’m thinking of trying something new, just for me, just for fun,” Jack said. “I might write a romance.”
Though she could tell he was joking, Bonnie egged him on. “Really?”
He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Yep. You’ve given me enough inspiration to write a dozen of them, maybe more. A hundred. A thousand.”
“Jack,” she chided. “You’re not going to tell all our secrets, are you?”
He shrugged. “I’ll just say it’s all fictional and ‘bears no intentional resemblance to any persons living or dead.’ But since it’s a whole new genre for me, I will need to do some research. For instance, if I were to write a love scene that takes place in a bathtub…”
Jack’s hands slid over her wet skin, eliciting shivers, though she was perfectly warm. She giggled and leaned in, kissing him softly.
“You beast,” Bonnie whispered against his lips. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Anything you want, princess,” he murmured in response. “Anything you want.”
Epilogue
Hunter
Hunter Bestia was happy for his brother—really, he was. It had been a long time since he’d seen Jack like this—relaxed, content, satisfied. It was awesome. But honestly?
It was a little hard to be around all the newlywed bliss. Jack and Bonnie had returned from a tropical cruise only a few days ago, and they were a walking, talking advertisement for settling down and living the simple life, working less and playing more, for stopping and smelling the roses—literally.
Hunter had time for none of those things. Not if he was going to make Chipp the biggest online payment processor the world had ever seen.
He’d only taken a break from working to stop by and pick up the fresh-cut flowers Jack had offered from his garden. Hunter was going to place them at his mom’s gravesite. She’d always loved roses, and today was her birthday. As sad as the ritual made him each year, he never missed it.
Taking the bouquet from Bonnie, he accepted her offered hug and shook Jack’s hand.
“All right, well thanks. I’ve gotta run. Still a ton of work to do today after I go see Mom. I’ll catch up with you guys next week.” Hunter turned to walk away, but Jack called out to him.
“Wait—you’re planning to go to the Charity Relief Foundation Gala tonight, aren’t you? I know you’re invited.”
“Oh, you mean that hoity-toity society party populated almost exclusively by the rich snobs who looked down on us our whole lives and pretend to be our ‘best buds’ now that we’ve made it big? Um, no thanks. Think I’ll pass on that one.”
“Hunter,” Jack said, his voice holding a patiently scolding note. “It’s a fundraiser for a good cause. And among those ‘hoity toity society people’ will be lots of potential investors.”
His tone indicated he thought he was dangling a tasty carrot. Hunter woul
d sooner bite into a ghost pepper dipped in peanut butter and ants.
“I don’t need any more investors,” he told his older brother. “I landed the big fish, remember? What I do need is another ten to twelve hours in the day. I’ll be working tonight while you two lovebirds are dining and dancing under the stars.”
Jack frowned. “It’s not healthy to sit at a computer all day, every day, seven days a week. Believe me—I know—finishing the last Onyx book nearly killed me.”
Slapping his well-exercised abs, Hunter said, “That’s why I reserve an hour every day for the home gym—and why I ran over here instead of driving. You’d better do the same with Monsieur Laplume cooking for you. The food at your wedding was unbelievable. I think I might need to get myself a personal chef.”
“Too bad I can’t talk my sister into moving here,” Bonnie said. “She’s an incredible chef. But she works for some rich guy in Boulder.”
“Don’t knock it,” Jack teased her. “Some of those rich guys can be pretty charming.” Turning to Hunter, he asked, “You know who’s chairing the gala this year, don’t you?”
“Why on earth would I know something like that?” Hunter said, already beginning to hop from one foot to the other as he prepared to jog. “I’m about as far out of the society loop as you can get.”
“Margot Bianco.”
If Jack had been holding a microphone, he would have dropped it and walked off. He knew Hunter far too well.
Bianco. Just hearing that last name sent his pulse into overdrive. Hunter worked hard at sounding unaffected, though his lungs felt suddenly so deflated he wasn’t sure he’d be able to manage the short run home after all.
“Kristal’s stepmother?” he asked, knowing full well who Margot Bianco was. “Didn’t her husband just have a stroke?”
“Yeah, a few weeks ago. When it comes to society parties and high-ticket fundraisers, though, I guess the show must go on. Anyway, she’s never seemed all that attached to him. I think she enjoys being ‘Mrs. Richard Bianco’ a whole heck of a lot more than she enjoys being an actual wife—at least based on the way she acts every time I see her.”
