Page 129 of Playboy

What I wasn’t prepared for—the reason I cup a hand over my mouth like Daniel does to keep me quiet during sex—is the table in the center of the room. It’s covered in stacks and stacks of books.Mybooks. There’s even a six-foot sign with an enlarged photo of the cover of my new release and my pen name scrawled across it. “What’s happening?”

Millie nudges me forward. “Told you he did good.”

Daniel appears in front of me, a big smile on his face, wearing one of his game day suits and holding out a flute filled with what I assume is a mocktail. “Congrats, dream girl. Welcome to your very first book signing.”

I blink away the tears blurring my vision. I don’t want to miss a single moment of this. This is the good. The point of no return. That moment in a love story when finally,finally, everything the couple has been through makes sense. Because all their tribulations led here.

Hereto a book signing I thought was a baby shower.

Hereto the man of my dreams making another one of my bucket list ideas come true. He never stops. And I don’t think he ever will.

We’re here. My happily ever after, an ending I never thought I wanted, and we haven’t even had the baby yet. Because though our son may have been the catalyst, he may have brought us together, the foundation of our love story is built around us. Around Daniel and me. We’re as much a part of it as that one crazy night.

Daniel is my happy, and I think it’s fair to say I’m his.

I was sure I got it before. I was wrong. If I thought his feelings for me were any smaller than this huge display of his love, then I never really understood. I’m his dream girl. And he’s a wish I never could have dreamed up.

I laugh, sinking into this delirious sensation. The air must be lighter on the other side of happily ever after, because I feel drunk on joy.

“This isn’t a baby shower?”

There isn’t a baby item in sight. This is all about me. God, that realization only makes me laugh harder.

Like the man understands precisely what I’m laughing about—and I can all but guarantee he does; he knows me better than I even know myself—he steps into me and cups my cheek. “Babyshowers are overrated. We’re celebrating your book baby today. We’ll celebrate our little guy when he’s born.”

“But don’t think for a second that you don’t get gifts!” Lennox yells from somewhere behind me.

Daniel rubs his finger against my lip, his dimples on full display.

“What’s she talking about?”

“They sent gifts to my dad’s house. We can pick them up later and open them whenever you want.”

Legs wobbly, I cling to him. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

It’s not that baby showers are exactly awful, it’s just that they are absolutely awful. I’ve been dreading the minute I had to sit and open gifts and coo at every item, diapers and bottles and all. Baby clothes? Sure, I can get behind cooing at cute outfits. The rest? I’ll happily let Daniel put each item in its proper spot. Let’s be honest, he’s the one with all the knowledge since he spends all his free time either giving me orgasms or watching the daddy vlogs.

“I love you too, Hannah. But since I get to see you all the time, I’m going to drag you over to your table so you can meet your fans.”

I roll my eyes. These are my friends and their spouses, our families, and yes, maybe just about the entire baseball team and their wives. I wouldn’t exactly call them fans.

When he drags me over to the table, though, I can’t help but gawk at the stacks upon stacks of books. My books. My book baby, my new release, the novel I don’t even have a copy of yet, is even here.

“How did you—Where did you—” Words fail me as I pick it up and turn it over, reveling in the weight of it, in the smoothness of the matte cover with the beautiful man on thefront. The man Sara and I giggled over just a few months ago. He’s hot, but so were like ten other guys we were looking at.

“These are your preorders,” he says, hands in his pockets like it’s no big deal that there are literally one hundred books stacked high on a table. BooksIwrote yet haven’t seen before today.

“Would you sign these too?” Wren Wilson appears on the other side of the table with a stack of books.

Her husband, Tom, is the head coach of the Revs. While he’s in his forties, I think Wren is a few years younger than I am. She and Coach Wilson’s daughter have been best friends for years and years. When she started dating Avery’s dad, it was the scandal of all scandals.

Obviously I loved every delicious minute when details of their clandestine affair came out. Now, like Lake and Ford and Gavin and Millie, they fit right in. They’re no different from any other married couple. Though Wren is a little wild like me, so I can only imagine how dirty those two are behind closed doors.

Daniel pulls out a chair so oversized it might as well be a throne. Once I’m settled, he hands me a rose-gold sharpie, and with a wink, he tells me to enjoy myself and backs away.

“Tell me the truth,” I whisper hiss as Wren leans in close. “Did Daniel force everyone to show up and pretend they want my books?”

“Are you kidding me?” She pulls back, brows pinched. “When he mentioned your new book was coming out, Avery and Jana and I downloaded the first in the series. I think Gianna did too, but she’d never admit to being a softie for romance.” She lets out a throaty laugh. “I finished it in a day, then made it through all six of them in a week. I am dying for this one. And now I have signed copies of them all? My followers are going to freak when they find out I know you. I posted about coming here on my socials, and the number of people who commented about beingjealous was wild.” She gives me a pointed look. “Girl, this book is blowing up!”

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