His Heart's Revenge (49th Floor Novels) (17 page)

“Yeah, what about Rose?” Cary said with mock anger. “She just left me here!”

“That is incorrect,” Alex said, straightening Cary’s shirt and smiling. “Rose is waiting outside for word from us. She won’t go home until, and I’m quoting her here, she has definitive proof that she doesn’t need to cut off my balls.”

“Well, let’s get going, then,” Cary said, grinning as they hobbled their way into the future. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to your balls. I like your balls.”

Epilogue

Fourteen months later

“Hold up!” Alex heard Cary slamming the trunk of his car. He would have to jog to catch up with Alex, who had, in his nervousness, already set off down the trail that would take them to their campsite. Honestly, Alex was afraid he might barf, and wouldn’t that put a damper on his plans?

As soon as Cary caught up to him, Alex moved aside to let him walk beside him, like it was their thing. Because it was. The path wasn’t wide enough for two grown men, but Alex loved how his boyfriend persisted, letting the branches from the underbrush slap against his legs and slipping his hand into Alex’s.

“I still say this is a mistake,” Cary said. “When you and I are in the woods together, the shit has a tendency to hit the fan.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Alex said. And, oh, how he hoped it was true. And, oh, how he hoped he wouldn’t barf.

“Everything has been going so well, though,” Cary argued. “My company is booming. I’m dating a
college student
.” He winked. Damn. Alex would never get sick of that, of being teased by Cary Bell. “A college student with a 4.0 GPA, I might add.” He swatted Alex’s butt, making him shiver.

“Well,” Alex said, “it turns out that compared to your average eighteen-year-old, I have a pretty solid work ethic.”

“My point is, why mess with success? How do we know camping isn’t cursed for us?”

“We’re changing our luck,” Alex said, speeding up his pace to match his hammering heart. He had purposely reserved a site that wasn’t too far into the forest because he knew he was going to be scared shitless. His plan had been to get there as quickly as possible and just get it over with, so after ten minutes of hiking, they arrived at the site.

Cary looked around. “Tent over there, you think?” he said, pointing to a relatively flat spot at the far end of the site even as he started out toward it.

Alex grabbed his hand and hauled him back, taking a final deep breath before spinning him so they were eye-to-eye. “You remember when I told I was going to have you on your knees?”

“Of course I do!” Cary said, laugher in his beautiful smoky eyes. “When this is done, I’ll have you on your knees!” He affected a mock-serious tone as he imitated Alex from what he’d come to affectionately call “the war years.”

“I was wrong,” Alex said, sinking to one knee and reaching into his pocket for the small blue box that had been burning a hole in it. “The way this ends is with me on my knees, asking you to marry me. Asking you to be mine forever.”

Cary’s mouth fell open.

“I want to give my mom grandchildren,” he said, pushing his voice through the knot of emotion in his throat. “I want to contribute to Rose’s plan to establish a ‘normal wing’ of your family.”

Cary pulled him up. And then they were both crying. And kissing. And laughing.

And then they fell down and did it all some more.

Finally, Cary pulled away. “Oh my God, I need to call Rose.” He tried to get up. “We have to hike back to somewhere we can get cell reception. We have to—”

“Nope.” Alex grinned and rolled over onto his back, mimicking the pose he’d affected at the convention center last summer. “I demand a do-over. That’s why we’re here.”

“Huh?” Cary looked adorably baffled.

“It’s August tenth,” he said.

“Oh my God,” Cary whispered. “It’s twenty years to the day.”

Alex grinned and patted the ground next to him. “Get down here. We have a meteor shower to watch.”

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Acknowledgments

A lot of people helped make this book a reality. I have to start by thanking Gwen Hayes, who match-made me with this project. Heather Howland championed it and gave great guidance in its early stages. Courtney Miller-Callihan, in addition to being her usual amazing “best agent in agentdom” self and an expert on summer camp, sent some, um, interesting notes on an early draft. My ladies Sandra Owens, Audra North, and Erika Olbricht worked their usual magic on early drafts as well as working their usual magic on my day-to-day mental health. My friend Bill Maurice read a draft and signed off on the “mechanics” of things, for which I am immensely grateful. (Any complaints you can direct to him.) And of course Tracy Montoya also did her usual thing, too, which is to cast some kind of spell that made this book into a better, more authentic version of itself.

About the Author

Jenny Holiday
started writing at age nine when her fourth-grade teacher gave her a notebook and told her to start writing stories. That first batch featured mass murderers on the loose, alien invasions, and hauntings. From then on, she was always writing, often in her diary, where she liked to decorate declarations of existential angst with nail polish teardrops. Later, she channeled her penchant for scribbling into a more useful format, picking up a PhD in geography and then working in PR. Eventually, she figured out that happy endings were more fun than alien invasions. You can follow her on Twitter at
@jennyholi
or visit her on the web at
jennyholiday.com

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