Page 113 of Is This for Real?
“Me, neither. But I have presents for you.” Rory lets go of me to swing his backpack around from his shoulder. He unzips it and pulls out two boxes. One is tiny, and one is a binder-size, rectangular box. I take the lid off the tiny one first. I unwrap the tissue paper. Inside are miniature roses and a little breakfast tray with waffles, strawberries, eggs, and bagels. I kiss Rory. The card says, “So Rob and Piper can enjoy the perfect breakfast in bed.”
I open up the box. A rose petal flutters out. Rory has created a bound copy of my book, nestled in tissue paper and rose petals, like an Instagram post. The pink, yellow, and blue cover has two stick figures kissing.
“I presume you’ll want to change the cover when it’s published officially.”
My eyes tear. “Oh, Rory.” I kiss him again quickly.
“I loved it.” Rory tenderly brushes away a tear from my cheek. “I’ve got to believe Strawbundle Publishing will want it.”
“They do. They called. It’s going to be published.” I hop up and down. I still can’t quite contain my joy at the news.
“Yes!” Rory swings me up and around. “Should we go back to my apartment? I’ll light the fireplace.”
I nod. “How are your parents doing?” I hold Rory’s hand as we walk toward his brownstone building.
“Better. My dad told me I was an idiot to break up with you, that conflict can create growth in relationships, which is what he is learning, and that I needed to go win you back. He said conflict is couples trying to be both individuals and a couple, and it’s healthy. Even if he hasn’t always appreciated it in his own relationship.”
I stop and look at him, “Oh, Rory.”
“And I told him that he still has his relationship counseling skills and that this would make him a better counselor, but that he should focus on making the changes necessary to save his relationship with my mom. And that I wasn’t his confidante, but his son, so we set some boundaries.”
Rory unlocks the door to his apartment and switches on the light. He turns on his phone and presses an app. The opening notes of “It Had to Be You” fills the apartment.
“May I have this dance?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
Rory takes me into his arms and says, “I’m looking forward to a life of magicandmundane with you.”
I smile. “So, after this, can we get to the part where ‘I’m on fire?’”
Rory laughs. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter forty-seven
EPILOGUE
It’sthenightofthe APT-TV auction event, being held at the Central Park Zoo. I’m on the stage with Rafael, about to speak. Marilyn Hughes is introducing me. I stare out at the sea of faces, but so many of them are friends. All of my friends and family bought tables, and my paperbacks are on a display table next to the monkey island area, ready for me to sign later, so it feels like my book launch party.
I step up to the microphone. My hands shake as I unfold my paper speech. I have my speech memorized, but I still brought a paper copy just in case I blanked.
“I have always loved miniatures, since I was a child.” I look at Rory. He’s smiling at me, and I can feel his love enveloping me. “I delight in making these scenes of life in miniature. Miniatures allow me to play as an adult.” A breeze blows through the opening in the tent wall near us, and an animal screeches. To the side of the stage is the sea lion pool. One of the sea lions flops up onto a rock and calls to a friend.
“At first, I only created these scenes of perfect mini lives—very neat apartments and happy couples. But then my miniature couple broke up, and that’s when my miniature blog took off. Because life is messy, and there are ups and downs. Actually, the downs make us much stronger.” Theresa nods; she is sitting at the table Jamie bought. The “Meet the Miniaturists” TV show had been a huge success, and my miniatures business is booming. A bit too much. I couldn’t keep up with demand. Theresa joined me in making miniatures to keep my Etsy store stocked.
I say, “And sharing those emotions can actually lead to real connections. So, as you can see, even in my mini art gallery, although the gallery itself is quite neat, if you look behind the curator’s counter, it’s quite a mess.” I pause as the screen behind me shows a close-up of the miniature scene with sneakers under the curator’s desk for changing into before she goes home, her workout bag, and lots of papers stacked all over her desk. “I am thrilled to introduce Rafael, who helped me realize how important it is to open up emotionally in our art.”
I step aside. My legs are still trembling, but I did it. I made it through my speech. I barely hear Rafael’s speech as I recover. Zelda gives me a thumbs-up. Audrey also smiles at me and nods her head. She insisted on buying her own table, so she’s at another table with Jake, Eve, Pete, Tim, Colette, Winnie, and Jae. Our upstairs neighbors, Tessa and Miranda, also bought a table. Miranda invited her art dealer, who owns a gallery, so I’m hoping maybe she’ll want my miniature art gallery. Even if nobody bids on my piece, at least I raised money for the charities via my friends’ buying tables. Even Bernie and Myrtle bought a table and filled it with everyone from the Catskills house party.
And then Rafael is next to me, and Marilyn is introducing the auctioneer. The auctioneer is an older man with a bow tie. He reminds everyone again about how supporting the Fresh Air Fund and Boys & Girls will open up opportunities for children. And we’re up.
Rafael holds my hand. It feels incredibly public.What if nobody bids?
“Opening the bidding at one thousand dollars,” the auctioneer says. “Do I have one thousand dollars?”
Rory’s hand shoots up in the air. My eyes tear. Even though I knew he would bid, I’m still relieved.
“The young man at table 32 has bid one thousand. Do I have eleven hundred?” the auctioneer asks.
