Page 122 of Only and Forever

“Have a seat,” she says, pointing to my rocker.

“Why?”

“Because...” Tallulah picks up a spiral-bound printout sitting at the edge of the coffee table. “You’re going to be reading for a while.”

I blink in shock as she walks toward me, smiling nervously. “I finished it. And I hope you like it. Please don’t tell me if you don’t. Well, actually, tell me if you don’t, but tell me very gently?”

I drag her into my arms, her finished manuscript crushed between us. “Seriously? You want me to read it?”

“I do,” she whispers.

I smile as I rest my cheek against her head. “Can I read it right now?”

“I wish you would. Get it over with! The suspense is killing me.”

“Well, that makes two of us. You left me hanging with that jump scare.” I pull away, peering down at the manuscript,Dwelling. By Z.S. Ruhig.

I tip my head. “Your pen name, Lula. What’s it mean?”

Tallulah huffs a laugh. “It’s silly. Our au pair, Gretchen, she always said about me, ‘Sie ist sehr ruhig.” It’s German and means ‘she is so ‘quiet,’ or ‘calm,’ depends on the context. I did a play on that.”

I tip my head. “You’re not so quiet or calm with me, are you?”

Tallulah grins. “No, I’m not. You, Viggo Bergman, seem to have a unique gift for firing me up.”

I smile, too, bending to kiss her. “You’re welcome.”

She swats my butt and laughs. “Sit down and read that ending already.”

—

I’m a fast reader, but I’m flying even faster than normal, hooked and on tenterhooks. I tear through the last quarter of Tallulah’s book, rocking in my chair as I read, my foot pressed on the coffee table, my heart in my throat.

Tallulah paces the house with two cats on her shoulders, and every time she hits the creaky floorboard outside the bathroom, I startle.

“Lu, stop pacing already!” I flip the page. “You’re making me jump out of my skin.”

“How do you thinkIfeel?” she says. “You’re reading my book. This was the worst idea ever—”

“Shh!” My eyes are flying down the page, my heart pounding. It’s the last chapter of the book, and I can’t believe what’s happening, how this story has turned.

The wife... she’s just thrown herself in front of the husband, protected him from the knife being swung his way. My head is spinning. I can’t believe who the villain turned out to be, can’t believethisis what the husband’s been up to. I can’t handle the fact that the wife is dying on the page as the husband wrestles thevillain to the ground and knocks him out, then scrambles over to her, clutches her in his arms, watches the light leaving her eyes.

Tears fill my eyes as I read the last line of the wife’s point of view, as darkness swallows her up. But then I gasp as I turn the page.

An epilogue.

From the husband’s perspective. And the woman he’s walking with slowly, hand in hand, careful of her healing body, up to a new house, a place of fresh beginnings...

It’s his wife.

A loud, raw sob jumps out of me. I glance up at Tallulah, who clutches the cats to her chest, standing only a few feet away, her eyes wet and locked on mine. “You...” I swallow roughly. “You gave them a happy ending, Lu.”

She nods as tears slip down her cheeks. “They still have lots to work on. They’re far from perfect.”

I search her eyes, hearing her hidden meaning. “I know.”

“But they love each other. And they want to love each other well,” she whispers. “So... they’ll keep working on it. Keep choosing each other. No secrets, no holding back, just trust.”

---