Page 86 of Trip Me Up

31

NIALL

“I don’t knowwhy we can’t go to a bar like normal people.” Gabi hitched up the paper bag, making the bottles clink.

“Let me carry that.” I fumbled the plastic key card out of my pocket and reached for the bag.

“You get the door. And then ask your princess to come out to celebrate. Where there’s music. And martinis. And hot L.A. people looking for walk-on roles. Which I can pretend I have the power to offer them.”

I stopped a few feet away from the door. “I want to celebrate with Sam,” I said, low so Sam wouldn’t hear.

“What did Sam do to help you get this deal?” Gabi shifted the bag again, and this time I took it from her. “Fuck all, that’s what. I’m your brilliant agent who nabbed it for you.”

“I know you are. And I appreciate it. I appreciate you. But Sam’s part of my life now.” Maybe she hadn’t said the words, but she’d slept in my bed every night since the farm. Well, not exactly slept. She always returned to her own bed after. She said she slept better alone. Though, from the dark circles under her eyes, she wasn’t sleeping well alone, either. Regardless, it had to mean something when she looked into my eyes every night when I was inside her, when she whispered my name like a plea.

Gabi narrowed her eyes but said nothing, which surprised me more than anything she could have said.

I slid the key into the slot. Red. Again, with a jiggle. Red. Again, fast. Red.

“Dammit, Niall, just let me do it.” Gabi snatched the plastic out of my hand and unlocked the door in one try.

With a sharp-eyed glance, she took in the open adjoining door. “Honey, we’re home,” she called out.

Bilbo sprinted out of Sam’s room, barking his head off, but he stopped and sat when he saw me. I bent to scratch between his ears. “Sam?”

“I’m here.” She walked through the door from her room, pulling out her wireless earbuds. “Hey, I had this idea for—” She stopped when she spotted Gabi.

I strode to her and kissed her. I could do that. In front of Gabi. I’d even done it in the bookstore after last night’s signing. She’d been so relaxed and easy, a world of difference since that first awkward Q and A in Chicago.

“What’s going on?” She took in Gabi and the bag I still held.

“We’re celebrating. Niall said you’d rather do it here in the hotel than in a bar or restaurant.”

A tiny smile teased at the corners of her lips. “What are we celebrating?”

Gabi found a trio of glasses and plunked them on the desk. She beckoned for the champagne, and I set it beside the glasses. She went to work opening the foil top. “They greenlit the second season.”

“They haven’t finished filming season one, have they?” Sam asked.

Gabi cranked on the cork. “No, but there’s been so much excitement around the stills that they went ahead. I wish I had a third book to sell them.”

It was time to show her what I’d done at the farm and in the early mornings of the last few days. I hefted the bookstore tote bag bulging with notebooks from the floor and thumped it onto the desk.

Gabi set down the bottle. “What’s this?”

“Book three. I finished. Well, I finished the first draft.”

“Niall!” She wrapped her arms around me. Then she swatted my arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I, ah, wasn’t sure how long the muse would stick around. I didn’t want to jinx it.”

Gabi glared at Sam for a moment, but then she returned to the bottle. She popped the cork and caught the frothy wine in a glass. She poured out the other two and handed them to us. “To Niall and his wood elves. And book three. May there be many more seasons. And action figures. And T-shirts. A line of wood elf–themed housewares. And a feature film.”

We all raised our glasses and clinked. “To Niall,” Sam echoed.

“I can’t believe you said no to the cameo.” Gabi frowned at me, the same way she’d done in the studio’s conference room.

“I’m ready to wind down the public author persona. I’m going to become a hermit author like Cormac McCarthy. No more movie premieres, no moreUs Weekly.No more paparazzi. I’m settling down.” I’d never liked the celebrity author stuff, but I’d done it to make Gabi happy. To move books, to fund the farm. And, I had to admit, to show my father I was worthy of his notice. Now I resolved to do what’d make Sam happy. Fuck Paul Swift. And I’d write faster to earn enough to help out at the farm. I already had a sprout of an idea for a spin-off series. I hugged Sam’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head, breathing in the herbal scent of her hair.

---