Page 111 of Beyond the Bright Lights

I laugh, a quick burst that hurt my throat because I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that. No, I do. It was with her.

“Someone once told me to face my fears, or I’d miss out on some spectacular moments in life.”

“Whoever said that must be brilliant.”

She nods, biting her lip. The simple gesture sparks an explosion within me. Whatever feelings that laid dormant for her reignite and pour from my body. I reach out and grab her, tugging her to me, then I wrap my arm around her waist. My other hand moves up to her face, tracing her jaw with my fingertip. She lets out a breathy moan. A moan I’ve longed to hear for over a year.

“I’ve missed you,” I say.

“I’ve missed you, more,” she challenges, and I claim her mouth, biting her bottom lip to show her that she’s wrong, and I’m the one who missed her more.

When we pull away, she pauses, noticing my dress shirt. “Lilies?”

“For a new beginning.”

Tears fill her eyes, and she palms my cheek. “I love you. I think I have since the day you started calling me donut.”

I lean my forehead against hers. “Liar.”

“You’re right.”

I tilt back, surprised she admitted it.

“It was after ‘just a hug.’”

"I love you so freaking much," I say and kiss her again. The world around us resumes—the sounds of the bugs, the planes flying overhead, and the muffled music playing inside at the party.

She pulls back. “No one told you I was coming?”

“Nope.”

“Good. They weren’t supposed to.”

“Oh, that’s cruel.”

Lana takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. I’m already contemplating how to punish her for not telling me she was going to be here. Though, I’m the one who deserves to be punished.

The thought excites me.

Epilogue – Lana

Two years later

The doorbell rings as I’m setting down a tray of donuts on the white cloth-covered table. I scan the spread, crossing my arms and nod.

Perfect.

Lilies decorate the spaces between the food prepared by our personal chef. It’s still overwhelming having household staff. Two years of people doing things I used to do myself: cleaning, preparing the meals, serving guests at dinner parties, answering the freaking door.

“Lana Banana,” Ginger sings as she enters the home. Our tiny butler, Gina, yes, I have a butler now, nods her black bobbed head to me and runs off to hide until the next guest arrives. “I brought banana pudding!”

“How clever of you,” I grumble as I hold out my hands to take the dish. Except, Ginger places it in the outstretched palms of a server.

Bruno lingers long enough to say hello to me then wanders off to find Mylan, who’s upstairs working on his speech for tomorrow night’s fundraiser for his new charity, Beyond the Bright Lights. The nonprofit offers additional resources to people in the weeks, months, and years after rehab to help them stay on track.

As for me, I gave my bar to my employees. Well, not all of them. Only the ones who wanted a claim in ownership. There are four of them who now run it together, carrying on my entrance ritual and discounted cab rides.

Now, I solely work for the Tyler’s Team organization. I’d stepped back as co-creator after the book came out due to all the publicity but for the past year, I've been more involved. I even do on-camera media interviews now.

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