Page 89 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

He walks off, and it’s like the seal has been broken. I won’t say everyone approaches me after that, but I meet more authors than I can properly keep track of. Experienced authors, new writers, and people I’ve never heard of but likely will one day.

It’s overwhelming meeting so many people. And the notion that they actually want to meet me? Bizarre.

I get asked when my next book is coming out. If I’m part of the larger Texas sci-fi writers’ association. Someone suggests I should level up with a new agent who’ll bring in a bigger advance on my next series. Another author tells me his key piece of advice is to take leadership courses so I can properly manage my “team.”

I’m grateful for my agent and editor, but the only person I care about having on my team is Georgia. I’ve never been able to manage her very well, and I wouldn’t change a thing. She’s the one who’s always at my side, ready with a fresh idea for the bookshop or eager to listen to me talk through plot holes. She’s my best friend in every sense, the person I trust the most, and can be my truest self with.

I am madly, deeply in love with this woman. I just need to find the right time to tell her.

Surrounded by increasingly tipsy writers is not it.

The emcee announces it’s time to find seats in the next room so the ceremony can begin. I take Georgia’s hand and move with her through the crowd, wishing we were alone. Maybe dancing somewhere, since I’d like a legitimate reason to touch that flattering dress and hold her close. I really don’t care, as long as we’re together.

We sit down, and Georgia leans closer, a hint of pumpkin spice moving with her. “In this crowd, I feel like noisemakers would have been perfectly appropriate.”

There are ten awards, and nobody’s quiet when the winners are announced. We stand and applaud for everyone as the crystal prizes are handed out. Thankfully, winners aren’t allowed to make a speech when they win. They walk up, receive the award, get a picture snapped, and move along.

I shift my face even closer to hers. “Thank you for being here with me tonight.”

She beams at me. “I’m proud of you, no matter what happens.”

“No matter what happens, being with you is the best part of the night.”

Cheesy, but perfectly true. The nomination is flattering, and it’s a new experience to be with so many authors like this. But the thing keeping me in my seat isn’t the hope of an award.

It’s her.

I want her to chase her dreams just as much as I’ve been able to chase mine. I want her to have these moments for herself, too. To have her talents be celebrated and fully seen. Even if that means she leaves the bookshop so she can pursue her art full time.

But again, not the right moment for that conversation.

I don’t know exactly how I thought the evening would go. I don’t want to say I came here expecting to lose, but I didn’t drive down to Austin planning to win, either. I know my books are good, but I wouldn’t have called them award-worthy.

Until suddenly, they are.

It takes my brain a few seconds to process it when the emcee calls my name. Georgia gives my shoulder a little shove, snapping me out of it. I move to the podium in a daze, my ears ringing with applause. The next thing I know, I’m walking back through the maze of tables, a surprisingly heavy crystal award in my hands signifying I’m aRising Star.

That this room full of science fiction authors thinkmycareer is worthy of notice. It’s hard to comprehend, honestly.

Georgia’s standing and cheering louder than everyone else. I move without thinking. I set down the award and lift her into my arms, pressing my face against her neck until she laughs. I spin her around once, letting her skirts twirl around us, before I put her feet back on the floor.

I kiss her like it’s inevitable, one hand on the back of her head and the other sliding up the soft fabric of her dress to the thin bare strip of skin on her back. For one brief moment, we’re the only ones in the room. There’s just Georgia and me, breathing in time, our mouths and hands moving together in celebration. And the only thing I’m celebrating isus.

I kiss her until we’re breathless, and even then, I only stop when the wolf whistles start up. Applause rises again as we draw apart.

“I always knew it would be you,” she says.

I want that sentence to be about so much more than an award.

We sit back down to cheer for the last two winners, and I don’t think I’ve ever smiled this hard. It’s for the award, sure. It’sa thrill and an honor to be recognized by other writers this way, and I’m unlikely to ever forget this night.

But mostly it’s that Georgia’s the one here with me.

When all is said and done, it’s a relief to leave the conference center. My excitement hasn’t faded, but my enthusiasm for socializing has. I just want to go someplace quiet with Georgia so I can slow down and process.

Outside the venue, the cool evening air greets us. She shivers, apparently feeling the drop in temperature from when we got here this afternoon. I slip off my suit jacket and wrap it around her shoulders.

“Miles,” she says softly. “Will you take me somewhere?”

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