Page 112 of The Write Stuff

Once Lucy was out of the apartment, things started happening rapidly for Huxley and me. I admitted I wanted to write straight sci-fi — while also publishing a sci-fi romance here and there — and he backed me all the way, including sitting down with my publisher when it was time. I always got nervous and awkward during meetings with authority figures. He kept me on task.

Eventually, even though they were reticent, they signed me for one trilogy. It wasn’t as much money as I was making in sci-fi romance because they weren’t convinced I could do it. I had the opportunity I’d always wanted, though, and that was enough. At least for now.

Mom and Eleanor were delighted when they heard about the new deal. They promised to promote it even though they hadn’t heard anything about the story yet. It didn’t matter to them. If it would help their children — and we were both their children — then they were going to do it. So, I had a year to write three books, along with another sci-fi romance that was due in a month. It would be tight, but I knew I could do it.

Huxley knew it, too, and his faith in me did a lot for my confidence.

He wanted to branch out, too, but was happy sticking with his romance for now. He wanted the money so we could buy a house, and we’d been actively looking. We hadn’t found anything yet, but we weren’t too worried. We could extend the lease on the apartment for another year and wait for something we truly wanted.

The apartment was comfortable, so waiting wasn’t a big deal.

What we didn’t wait on was the proposal. I expected Huxley to drag it out for at least another six months when I found myself in the square across from my apartment building a month ago. He’d decked it out with candles — our author friends helped — and he asked me to marry him in Klingon. I was stunned to tears, and then he told me he used an app to teach him to speak clearly.

That was when I finally came through with the truth on where I’d gotten my extra money. He was flabbergasted … and then he laughed for days. He bragged to anybody we met now that I’d created an app to help people learn Klingon. If they gave him a funny look, he told me they weren’t our type of people anyway.

When Brody and Nathan found out about the app, they were tickled. It turned out they’d both used it a time or two. Bree and Bella weren’t as impressed, although they weren’t unimpressed either. It just wasn’t their milieu, and that was okay.

As for Bella and Nathan, they were expecting another baby. Something told me, given the way they looked at one another, that they were going to have a houseful of kids before it was all said and done. They might not have realized it when they bought their house — they were mostly interested in location — but six bedrooms meant they had a lot of space for kids. There was no doubt in my mind that they were going to take advantage of it.

I blew out a sigh and reached for the zipper on the dress, giving myself one more look before letting it go. Maybe they were right. Maybe it did wash me out.

The zipper was halfway down when the curtain opened behind me, and somebody stepped into the dressing room. I stifled a scream, but only because I recognized my future husband.

“What the hell?” I hissed, dragging him into the dressing room and letting the curtain fall shut. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m checking on you,” he replied, his eyes sparkling as he looked me over. “I was afraid that our mothers would be bullying you.”

That happened a lot. The bullying thing. They were good at it. Most of the time, it didn’t bother me all that much. When it came to my wedding dress, however, I was extremely unhappy.

“They said it washes me out.” I gestured toward the dress.

He looked me up and down. “I happen to think you look beautiful. Do you want that dress?”

He would whip out his wallet and pay for it right here — I had no doubt — but I shook my head. “You’ve seen it now. That’s bad luck.”

He frowned. “What if I don’t believe in bad luck?”

“Um … you did see me trip over my own Croc last week and do this, right?” I lifted my arm so he could see my scabbed elbow.

He laughed and shook his head. “That’s just you being clumsy.” He leaned in for a kiss. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t close enough to catch you.”

He caught me at least once a week. He was handy that way.

“They hate the dress.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his. “Your mom said I looked like a fish that had been left out of water for two weeks.”

He kissed me back and swayed side to side. “You’re beautiful no matter what you wear.”

“They said I need a blush rose dress.”

He pulled back far enough to look at me. “What’s that?”

“It’s just a pinker white that apparently won’t wash me out.”

“And you don’t want that color?”

“I wanted a simple dress.” I gestured toward the one I was wearing. “I don’t want a lot of bells and whistles. They’re talking about getting a big-time designer.”

“We could still elope.” He looked hopeful. “We could hop in the car and start driving. It doesn’t have to be Vegas. I bet we could go to New Orleans and hide among all the Mardi Gras revelers. They would never find us.”