Page 174 of Role Play
“They’ll put it out there, of course. But from everything I’ve learned, your books will be just two of hundreds they publish this year. They’ll hit the shelves, maybe get a brief promotional push, and then….” He makes a falling gesture with his hand.
I frown, the excitement dimming slightly. “But the advance?—”
“Is bigger, sure. But my job as your agent is to think long term.” His eyes hold mine, intensity radiating from them. “And my instinct as the man who loves you is to build a team foryou that believes in you as much as I do. I think there needs to be more decisions made with heart versus statistics in this industry.”
I consider his words, turning them over in my mind. The old Sora—the one desperate for a seat at the table—would have grabbed the Big Five contract instantly. But the woman I am now, the one who’s learned the hard way that external validation doesn’t equal happiness, isn’t so sure.
He pushes both contracts toward me. “But ultimately, it’s your choice. I will support whatever you choose.”
I look at the contracts, then back at Forrest. His expression is carefully neutral, but I can see the hope in his eyes. This man, my roommate, my friend, my lover, and now my agent and partner, has never steered me wrong.
“Which one is the Big Five again?”
He points to the contract on his right.
I reach for the one on the left. “I trust my agent’s advice,” I say, “but I trust my boyfriend’s heart even more.”
The smile that breaks across his face is worth more than any advance. I unfold the contract, eager to see the details of the offer, when something tries to blind me. Something that definitely isn’t part of a standard publishing contract.
A ring.
Not just any ring, but a delicate pavé band with a small, star-shaped diamond that catches the light from every angle. Identical to the one I’d admired during our billionaire trope date all those months ago.
My hand flies to my mouth. “Forrest…”
“It’s a replica,” he immediately says. “That’s not actually Celeste’s ring.”
“I don’t care,” I muse in a whisper-sob. “It’s stunning…what…but…how’d you know I was going to pick this contract?”
“Because I know your heart, cookie girl.” His smile has turned wobbly now, a rare vulnerability showing through his usually confident demeanor. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I’ll address them all,” he says softly, “but I’d really like mine answered first.”
Before I can process what’s happening, he gathers the ring, moves from his chair, and drops to one knee beside our table. The ambient noise of the coffee shop dims as heads turn in our direction.
“Sora Cho-Cooper,” Forrest murmurs, taking the ring from where it had been nestled in the contract and holding it up. “When I walked into this coffee shop a year ago, I was a different man. I had walls built so high around my heart that I couldn’t see past them. But you—with your determination, your talent, your tenacious belief in love despite all evidence to the contrary—you saw through those walls like they were made of glass.”
Tears are already streaming down my face, but I make no move to wipe them away.
“You wrote your way into my life,” he continues, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “And now I can’t imagine a single chapter of my future without you in it. Will you do me the honor of being my happily-ever-after?”
The question bobs in the air between us, but only for a split second. Because there has never been a question with an easier answer.
“Yes,” I croak through my tears.
He slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits perfectly—of course it does. This man has planned everything down to the last detail. As he rises, the coffee shop erupts in applause, strangers sharing in our moment of joy.
Forrest pulls me to my feet and into his arms, his lips finding mine in a kiss that tastes of chocolate chips, caramel, andpromises. I melt into him, into the safety and excitement of our future together.
When we finally break apart, both breathless, he lays his forehead on mine. “I love you, Sora.”
“I love you too.”
As we settle back into our seats, both of us unable to stop smiling, I find myself staring at the ring on my finger. The small star catches the light, sending prisms dancing across the table.
“How long have you been planning this?” I ask.
“A while.” His smile is soft, reminiscent.
I shake my head, amazed at how life works out sometimes. “And you thought to hide the ring in a publishing contract?”
