“What about you?”

  I laughed. “I don’t have kids.”

  “I meant family,” she said, gently correcting me.

  I shook my head. “My parents are gone. It’s just me,” I said, and even though I was one man against the world I’d rarely felt lonely. I had too much to do. Too many places to go. Too many things occupying my days.

  But I felt lonely at that moment. Because briefly, in my evening with her, I didn’t want to focus solely on the things that occupied my days. The meetings, the deals, the travel.

  I just wanted more of this—this connection.

  “I’m sorry they’re gone, Jay,” she said.

  It was rare people called me by my first name. I was used to Mr. Bettencourt, or just Bettencourt.

  “I like the way you say my name.” I was eager to move on from the loneliness. I wanted to feel unlonely. I wanted to focus on her lips, her hair, and her eyes. How her body might feel against mine.

  “Do you now?” She licked the corner of her lips. Then whispered, “Jay.”

  All seductive and inviting.

  I growled, low in my throat.

  Her eyes flickered with heat.

  Then I reached for her hand, threaded my fingers through hers. A bolt of heat raced through me. I rose, pulled her up, then tossed a careless glance at the couch. “I’m not going to kiss you for the first time on that miserable couch,” I said, then lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, her jawline, then the corner of those lips.

  She tilted her chin up, then said, “The first time?”

  Anticipation thrummed through me. “This won’t be the last time I kiss you, Amy,” I said. Then I captured her lips with mine, and I kissed the stranger who’d caught my eye on the platform.

  The stranger who’d driven me to change my plans.

  The stranger who was no longer one at all.

  I kissed her for a good, long time. Until it was no longer a kiss. It was hands on buttons, then fingers on zippers, then her and me crashing onto the bed.

  She climbed onto my lap, wound her hands in my hair, then shuddered. “It’s been…a while.”

  Those words were a gift, like she was. And I wanted to treat her with care and also make her feel incredible.

  “I’ll take care of you,” I said. “I’ll give you anything you need.”

  I took my time, kissed her everywhere, adored her.

  Made her moan, sigh, and cry out my name.

  And in the morning, I canceled the rest of my plans so I could finish the trip with her. When I told her, she said, “I was hoping you’d want to.”

  “I very much want to travel with you,” I said.

  In Paris, I took her out when she had a break from her tour group, and over a glass of wine at a sidewalk café by the Seine, she said she’d miss me when she returned to Los Angeles.

  Right then, right there, I knew I had to make another change in my life. I wanted more than travel.

  After I walked her back to the hotel, I told her I needed a moment alone. I left her and walked solo around the city, pondering.

  Could I do this? Could I make this change for her?

  I’d lived in London for the last few years. But one night by the river in the City of Light, with the glow of the street lamps and my unrelenting thoughts of Amy my only companions, and I had my answer.

  The next night in Copenhagen, I told her I’d move to the U.S. to be with her, splitting my time between Los Angeles and New York, where I managed my U.S. operations.

  “If you’ll have me,” I said, feeling wildly vulnerable as I asked her the question of my heart over dinner.

  She reached across the table, took my hand. “I think I’ll have you, Jay. I think I’ll have you very much.”

  I laughed at the way she teased me. “Oh honey, I’ll be having you.”

  She wiggled a brow. “Tonight?”

  “Every night we’re together,” I said.

  Then I reached for her face, cupped her cheek, and kissed that gorgeous, flirty mouth. When I broke the kiss, I said, “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you led this group of writers and readers on this train trip?”

  “Have I mentioned how glad I am that it rained in London?”

  “You have, but you can say it again.”

  “I love when it rains in London.”

  Now, six months later, she’s my fiancée, and tonight she’ll be more. I adjust my black tie, smooth a hand over the lapels of my jacket, then look at the woman behind me in the bedroom of our home in Manhattan.

  Ours.

  She spends time with me here when she doesn’t have the kids, and sometimes when she has them too. Mostly, I go to Los Angeles to be with her and to work from there.

  She’s worth it.

  All these changes are worth it.

  I’m not lonely anymore.

  “You look very marry-able, Mr. Bettencourt.”

  I smile. “So do you, Ms. Chandler.”

  Hazel

  This place is gorgeous. The view is stunning. I feel like I can see all of Manhattan. But I don’t gawk at the city for long.

  Because Pachelbel’s Canon is playing, and Amy Chandler is walking toward Jay Bettencourt.

  This is not just an engagement party. It’s a surprise wedding.

  And after they say I do, and he kisses the bride, he offers a toast that ends with an ode to us. “And I suppose I have Axel and Hazel to thank. If you hadn’t written those books, I might not ever have met the love of my life.”

  Then he turns all his attention to his bride, and I turn mine to the guy by my side. “I guess we really do need to write that billionaire train romance,” I say to Axel.

  “I’m in.” Then he kisses me and says, “With you, I’m always in.”

  FINAL EPILOGUE

  ALL ABOARD

  Hazel

  A year later…

  Lacey’s story is releasing in one week, so Axel and I are slipping away for a vacation before we go on a tour around the United States together to promote the book.

  His Brooks Dean romantic thriller released a few months ago to rave reviews. I’m so proud of him, and I read some of the best ones to him. Then his agent sent him a bottle of scotch. My vineyard owner story came out too, and I can’t complain about how it did, especially since Axel’s friend Bridger’s production company bought the TV rights to it.

  It’s been a busy year and a damn good one. A whirlwind of creativity and sex and love and friendships. But I’m eager for some downtime with my guy, just him and me, taking a train trip. JHB expanded its operations, with a luxury train route that runs along the Italian coast and stops in several seaside towns. Bring on the pasta, the sunshine, the wine, and the long, lazy mornings in bed with my favorite person.

  But first, we fly into Rome, where I’m a little jet lagged. It’s nothing a day traipsing around the city won’t cure.

  After a cup of coffee, we head to the Fontana dei Libri, since Axel claims we need a picture.

  I shoot him a look. “You’re not a picture person.”

  “Give a guy a chance to change, Hazel. C’mon.”

  When we reach the small fountain where we first reconnected more than a year ago, I dip my hand into my jeans pocket, rooting around for some coins. I know what to wish for so I toss a nickel in right away, then turn to Axel to hand him one.

  But he’s no longer right next to me.

  He’s on one knee.

  My heart catches.

  “Don’t marry a bed,” he begins. “Marry me, Hazel Valentine. I love you more than coffee, more than wine, more than being right, more than books, more than stories. I love you more than I ever imagined, more than I thought you’d let me love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life bickering, bantering, loving, and being with you. Just you.”

  It’s too late to stop the waterworks and I don’t even try. I sink to my knees where the man I spend my days and nights with slides a gorgeous emerald onto my finger.

  Then, I hold his face. “My wish just came true. To be with you always.”

  “Sweetheart,” he says, full of swagger and love, “you’re stuck with me.”

  “And hold the tuna,” I say, then we kiss in front of the fountain of books.

  Fitting for the next chapter in the story of my so-called love life.

  Do you want more from these characters right now? Be sure to turn the pages for a Hazel and Axel extended epilogue! While you wait for Rachel’s and Carter’s sexy romance to come to KU in June in PLAYS WELL WITH OTHERS, be sure to download The RSVP for FREE in KU. It’s set in the same world in New York! Turn the page for an excerpt!

  Get your Hazel and Axel extended epilogue by clicking here or using this QR code!

  EXCERPT - THE RSVP

  Harlow

  I walk into Ava’s Bistro, heading to the private room for the Granger party.

  There, I see Bridger, his evening stubble lining his chiseled jaw, his forest-green shirt hugging his biceps. He’s giving a bouquet of purple gerbera daisies to the happy couple. Vivian takes them, hugs them to her chest, then smiles magnificently at her fiancé’s business partner.

  My father claps Bridger on the back affectionately, then shifts his focus to another set of guests as Vivian sets down the flowers on a table.

  Bridger spins around, searching, and—I hope—finding what he wants when his gaze lands on me.

  For a few breath-held seconds, there’s delight in his dark blue eyes. Like he’s glad I’m here. Like I’m that person you glom onto when you don’t want to talk to anyone else.

  He’s that person for me.

  I take a step closer, caught up in him. He nods toward the flowers. His eyes darken. “Your favorite,” he says, a tease of a smile on his lips.

  My heart slams against my ribs.

  He got them for them. But really, they’re for me.

  Could this be what I’ve been looking for? The sign I’ve been hoping to find on this flirtation road?

  The man remembered my favorite flowers from months ago. “They are,” I whisper, my voice feathery as I corroborate his observation. “Maybe I’ll take them home tonight.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  Maybe we are accomplices. Maybe we both need this complicit escape from the madhouse of my father’s engagement. Maybe it’s not just me.

  I don’t look elsewhere. I don’t care if I’m giving away what’s happening inside me when I look at him, when I’m near him.

  I tingle all over, then one more time when he makes the next move, asking, “How was your day?”

  “It was good,” I say. “How was yours?”

  “Not bad. I went for a run,” he says, with a wink in his tone.

  I light up. “I went for a ride,” I say.

  I don’t say the next thing—I didn’t see you.

  But I know what he’s not saying.

  I didn’t see you either, Harlow. I looked for you. My days are better when I run into you.

  My vague daydreams about him don’t feel so vague any longer. They feel possible. And I know, in this second, it’s time to make a plan.

  Keep reading: The RSVP for FREE in KU!

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