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A murmur of surprise rippled through the room, but I saw more than one person nod like they understood.

Wolfe had been right all those months ago.

Belonging was beautiful. Opening myself up to the world around me, feeling, loving, existing—all of it—was worth it.

When the questions wrapped up, the signings began.

The line snaked through the store and I settled in at my table, fingers flexing. I signed every book, made sure to look every single person in the eye and thank them for picking it up and giving it a chance. Marissa was stalwart by my side, feeding me fresh water bottles and the errant snack when my energy began to flag.

Eventually, the line trickled and fizzled out leaving only my friends behind.

Tommy got to me first, hugging me so hard my back cracked. He smelled like Ireland, like woodsmoke and coffee. Just as I remembered. Moira, too, brought the soft scent of linen and fresh bread with her. Lisette threw her arms around me and cried, mumbling how proud she was of me into my shoulder. Then Bianca, who told me I was the bravest person she’d ever met. Nadine blubbered something unintelligible, gesturing at the book.

I understood.

It’d wrecked me, too.

Isadora came last, ring-clad fingers reaching for mine.

“You did it,” she murmured, voice soft. “Well done, Avery. Well done.”

I gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you all for coming. I really—I really appreciate it.”

Tommy waved me off. “We wouldn’t have missed it. We’re happy to be here to support you.”

My parents were nowhere to be seen, though an obligatory bouquet of flowers showed up at my door this morning from one of their secretaries.

It was fine, I had a family forming around me and Wolfe’s memory in my heart.

It was more than enough.

They each handed me their books and I reclaimed my seat, signing my name at the bottom and leaving them each a personalized note at the top.

“One more,” Isadora said, stepping to the side.

I snuck a quick sip of my water bottle.

When I faced the table again, I froze.

There was a thistle in the middle of it, purple flowers trained my way.

My heart gave a slow, painful lurch against my ribs.

Then a cup of tea came down, the white cardboard cup stamped with my favorite shop up the street.

I blinked once, then again.

A man moved to the edge of the table, wide hands settled on the edge.

Slowly, I dragged my gaze up the length of him.

Narrow waist, strong chest, wide shoulders, a neck dotted in freckles, a sharp jaw, a boyish smirk, and—

Eyes the perfect shade of red-brown.

I lurched to my feet, chair falling back to the floor.

For a moment, we simply stared at each other.