Page 88 of The Opposite of Romance
The host shakes my hand and gives me the small bird statue, gesturing for me to get in front of the microphone. The stage lights are harsh, and I hardly see the audience.
“I haven’t prepared a speech,” I say honestly, making the crowd chuckle. There’s a distinct wolf whistle, which I’m pretty sure is Logan, and I smile. “No, I’m serious. I haven’t prepared a speech, which is foolish. I spend my days writing. And I couldn’t be bothered to spend a couple of minutes to think on what I’m going to say in case this happens.” I pause to take a deep breath. “This was a book that taught me a lot. It was a book that cut me open and left me to bleed. And even though it’s a fluffy little romance book,” I glare at where I know Todd is sitting, “it was therapy for me. It wasn’t my plan to let you see me through it, but I’m guessing that’s what happened.” I lift my award. “Thank you for liking what you saw.”
With tears pooling at the corners of my eyes, I make my wayback to my seat, straight into Logan’s arms. He lands another heartfelt kiss on my lips before whispering, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
It’s ridiculous. I’m a grown ass woman, with a successful career. A mother of two. But hearing someone is proud of me still connects to a part of me. A vulnerable, hurt part that felt like nothing she did was good enough.
His large palm wraps around mine, squeezing it gently, and we watch the rest of the ceremony. Logan waits for me as I use the restroom, not one bit annoyed, which is also new for me.
“So, what happens now?” he asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“Same thing as before, some mingling, food, and drinks.” I stifle a yawn.
He looks at me, a gleam in his eyes. “Want to get out of here?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Come on.”
He walks faster, but my feet are killing me in these shoes. “Can we slow down?”
His head turns, and in a second, he realizes the problem. “Sorry,” he says, before bending his knees and picking me up from the floor.
“Wha—” I start to say, unsure what’s going on. Laughter bubbles out of me when I realize he’s carrying me out of the venue, bride-style. “Put me down, I can walk.”
“But you’re hurting, right?”
“Oh, you know. The price of being a woman and all that.”
“I don’t like it. Which means I’m carrying you.”
I giggle the whole time we’re waiting for the car, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. He sets me in my seat, careful not to bump my head on the car roof. I fidget with my little statue, still reeling from the fact that I actually won. This little gold birdie will have a very special place on my shelves.
When I lift my head, I notice we’re not driving home. Nope, we’re parking in front of High Steaks, a small, hole in the wallrestaurant I never heard anyone talk about. Anyone except for me and Sandy.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
“Eating, of course. Don’t tell me the three bites of food you had tonight were enough.”
“But how do you know about this place?”
“It’s my first time here, actually.”
“But…”
“I thought you’d want to celebrate here.”
“How did y…” He’s already out the door, making his way to my side of the car.
My mind works a mile a minute, trying to figure out what’s going on. He opens the door, in time for me to blurt out, “Acknowledgments forLove, Unexpected?”
He dips his head, shooting me a shy but blinding smile.
“But that was years ago. And who the hell reads acknowledgments?”
He shrugs his shoulders, putting out his hand for me to take. I take it and follow him out of the car.
When Sandy and I were kids, our mom used to take us here to celebrate our successes. Later, Sandy and I continued the tradition every time I published a book. I mentioned it in one of my early acknowledgments, thanking her for dinner at High Steaks, just like the good old days, thinking no one is ever going to read it. A lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow it down as we enter the place.
