Page 150 of Best Friends for Never

As good as it sounds, forever might not be enough, not with Noel.

“I do have one question, though,” he says.

“Anything.”

“What the hell are we going to do about Pumpkin?”

Epilogue

Noel

Eight Months Later

Despite Parker’s talk about the theater and being part of the renovation, I still never expected it to turn out like it has.

This place . . . It’s incredible.

I look up at the foyer’s high ceilings, remembering the asbestos-filled hole that was once there. It’s covered now, and a shimmering chandelier hangs in its place.

My gaze drifts to the walls, which are adorned with a rich tapestry of old black-and-white photographs. Each image tells a story, a chapter in the theater’s history, from the first iteration to this masterpiece Parker has created.

“Parker, this is ...” I can’t find the words.

“I know.” She bounces excitedly on the toes of the same black high heels she wore to the bachelor auction. “But wait until you see the rest.”

It’s been killing me not to be part of the final stages of the restoration, but it’s been for a good reason. I’m not sure how Aaron did it, but he salvaged the meeting with Plume Pictures, and they still offered me the role. They wanted me so badly that they pushed the productionby three months and guaranteed a month between films. It means we’ll be shooting for longer, but I get to have a life too.

Which is how I’m here right now. We’re just thirty minutes from officially opening the doors of the Noel Carter Theater, and to celebrate, we’re hosting the premiere ofOne Night, the movie I filmed last year when this theater was still just a dream.

Now it’s more than a dream—it’s a reality, and damn, is it stunning.

When I got back into town last night, I wanted to come straight here to see the theater, but Parker made me wait until today to get my first glimpse of it all finished.

Honestly, I wasn’tthatupset, considering I had her naked and under me in less than a minute.

“Come on.” She grabs my hand, tugging me through the foyer, farther into the theater.

Parker waves toward the impressive concession stand that smells like freshly popped popcorn and butter. “Popcorn guests don’t have to bring from home!”

I laugh, remembering how everyone used to sneak snacks into the Goodman Theater. “It smells incredible.”

“Tastes even better,” she promises. “I might have had a bucket for dinner last night.”

She looks guilty, which tells me that’sexactlywhat she did.

“I promise to cook you a fantastic dinner tomorrow, deal?”

She sighs dramatically. “Thank goodness. I’m not saying you’ve spoiled me with your amazing cooking skills, but I’ve been eating at Rossi’sa lotlately.”

“And that’s a bad thing because . . . ?”

Parker peers around, smiling at the few people we’ve let in before the show starts, then leans in conspiratorially. “Because you’re a better cook.”

She kisses my cheek, and I grab her by the waist, hauling her closer.

I’ve missed this. I’ve missedher.

We’ve only been apart for two weeks, but it feels like a lifetime, especially since it’s the longest we’ve been separated since the night I came back to Emerald Grove and tripped over her bags.

---