Page 54 of Kissing Flynn

That’s exactly what he just said, but I understand why Flynn is asking for direct confirmation. It’s…crazy, what Barnard is claiming to have done here.

“Just think about it. Please. I’m really looking forward to working with both of you,” Barnard says, then nods at each of us before pushing to his feet and disappearing into the house.

I look over at Flynn with wide eyes. “You asked him to let me have the job?”

“After you beat me to it, apparently.”

A few silent moments pass as we both let everything that just happened sink in. When Flynn’s lips start to twitch, mine follow suit, and soon, we’re both laughing with tears streaming from our eyes. Once the hilarity dies down, I clear my throat and smile at Flynn.

“I guess we’re both martyrs.”

Growing serious, he shakes his head and says, “I’m no martyr. I just love you too much to take away your dream.”

“You love me?” I squeak out, my heart having taken up residence in my throat.

“Only for the last seven years or so,” he says, and his tone may be flippant but his eyes are dead serious as he holds my gaze.

“I love you, too, Flynn.”

I’m out of my chair and straddling him in his before my next breath. We laugh as we kiss. I might cry, a little, too. Every emotion courses through me as it dawns on me that neither of us is about to have our dreams crushed. We both win, and we get to be together while living those dreams out.

“So are we doing this, or what?”

“Definitely,” I say.

I kiss him again, then pull back to stare into his eyes. We don’t have to hide anymore. Barnard knows we’re together, and to hear him tell it, orchestrated the whole thing, himself. We’ll be spending every day together as friends, coworkers, and lovers with no competition between us.

We can just be happy.

We can just be us.

We can just be.

And I’ll be kissing Flynn whenever the mood strikes. Like right now.

“I love you,” I whisper when I pull back to meet his eyes.

“I love you, Max. Always have. Always will.”

Epilogue

Max

Two Years Later…

“It came.”

I lean forward and turn around in my chair in a rush, my eyes widening as my gaze zeroes in on the package in Flynn’s hand. Turning back around to take in the view of the Pacific from our balcony, I take a deep, cleansing breath and hop out of my seat. Flynn hands me the package, then follows as I head past him to the living room couch.

After a year of working with Barnard to write his memoir, then another six months of edits and rewrites, our publisher has approved the final version and sent it to be printed. And the first two copies were sent out––one to us and one to Barnard, himself.

Ripping the tape off the box, I set it on the coffee table and slowly pull open the flaps. Flynn takes a seat beside me, bouncing slightly as he waits for me to remove the packaging paper from the box and pull out the hardback.

“The Sky’s No Limit: The Barnard Roxberry Story,” Flynn reads, his lips turning up into a bright smile. “We did it.”

“We did it,” I repeat, my own grin as bright as his. “The advanced copies will go out soon, and then we’ll find out if it’s any good.”

“Oh, it’s good. I hear Maxine Nolan is a brilliant writer.”