Not Quite Forever (Not Quite series) (31 page)

Epilogue

She felt him long before he slid into the space beside her, placed his lips against her ear, and said, “Please tell me that ring doesn’t mean you’re married.”

Dakota pulled her hair aside to feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. “Oh, I’m married.” She laid a hand on her belly, felt Junior stretch to the point of rearranging one of her lungs. “But you might convince me to stray.”

The woman sitting at the bar beside her looked Dakota up and down, and then swung her gaze to the man trying to pick her up.

His breath tickled the lobe of Dakota’s ear, made her lean into him.

“I’m in the penthouse suite,” he murmured.

“Tempting.” Dakota sucked in her bottom lip, gave it a little chew.

The eavesdropping woman clicked her tongue, grabbed her drink, and left the bar in a huff.

They both started laughing as Walt took the now unoccupied seat.

“Is everything all set?” she asked.

“The room is filling, the books are stacked, even our moms have added their own personal flavor to the event.”

Dakota groaned. “Should I be worried?”

Walt took her hands in his, kissed them. “No. This idea of Mary’s is just short of brilliant. What better way to show our families how respected you are, than to bring them here?”

The holidays were behind them, as was their brief honeymoon in the western Caribbean.

The New York Morrison was hosting her release party and book signing of
Succumb to Me
, the final chapter in Mathew and Cassidy’s story.

“Tell me our mothers are getting along.”

Walt tossed his hands in the air. “If they’re not, they aren’t bogging me down with it.”

“How’s your dad?”

“Loving the attention. He and Dennis are sitting in the back of the room, watching the show.”

Dakota wasn’t even sure what the show was. She’d been told to stay clear of the ballroom where she’d be giving a speech about her latest book, and plugging her new one that would be out in late fall. With the exception of the hotel, and the guest list for the after-signing party, Dakota was clueless. “What show?”

Walt winked, not giving her anything. He checked his watch and stood. “Showtime, Baby Mama.”

She held his hand as they walked through the hotel, down a long hall, and into a holding room beside the ballroom.

A high rumble of excitement came from the many voices inside the ballroom, an occasional bit of laughter leaked through the doors leading in.

The door opened and Mary popped out. “There you are.” Her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled. “I love this part.”

“I know.” Mary had been at her side for much of her success, and release events like this were always so full of life and energy it was hard going for long stints without them.

Dakota glanced down to see what Mary was wearing. It was a pink T-shirt with Dakota’s website on the left shoulder. “Cute shirt.”

Mary giggled and turned around. On the back, the shirt said,
Baby Mama’s BFF
.

“I love it.”

Mary kept laughing. “Wait until you see the rest.”

Dakota turned to Walt.

He smiled and took his jacket off. His shirt was blue, on the back it said,
Dr. Baby Daddy
, below that it stated . . .
Inspiration for Chapter Thirteen
.

Didn’t matter that Dakota didn’t know Walt when she wrote chapter thirteen, the implication would be clear. Chapter thirteen was sexy hot, and well worth a Walt mention. She let out a squeal and was laughing as Mary led her into the fray.

The ballroom was a sea of pink and blue, with dashes of black and white, which were the colors on the cover of
Succumb to Me
. At the door, Glen stood beside Trent, they both wore blue shirts. They turned around to show her their personal graphic:
Baby Daddy and Mama’s Personal Pilot
.

Mary pulled her past Glen and avoided the man’s gaze.

Dakota noticed a smirk on Glen’s face before she took in the room.

There were balloons, flowers, and rows of women who were slowly noticing that she stepped into the room.

The pink-and-blue theme went throughout the family.
Dr. Baby Daddy’s Mom
,
Baby Mama’s Sister
,
Baby Mama’s Agent
. If the person in the room knew Dakota or Walt personally, they were wearing a shirt describing their relationship.

It was funny, personal, and so thoughtful Dakota was grinning to the point of pain.

“Whose idea were the shirts?” she asked.

“That would be Walt’s,” Dakota’s mom told her. “I thought it was silly, but your fans seem to love them.”

“You’re a sport for wearing it,” she told her mom with a half hug.

Elaine smiled when JoAnne approached.

“If you need to rest, you just let us know,” JoAnne said.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

Dakota smiled at her new in-laws, winked at Walter II. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better.” He’d taken the past couple months away from his practice, didn’t plan on going back full-time. He looked damn good, and Dakota hoped that expecting his first grandchild was fueling his quick recovery.

With Walt’s hand in hers, she turned to the sea of pink and blue. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you all being here.”

Carol Ann stood beside Brenda, the two of them having hit it off from the day of the wedding. “I’ve been telling Mom for years how she was missing out. Now she knows.”

Dakota’s mother caught her gaze and held it.

For a brief moment, there was silence in their group.

“I’ve been less than supportive. I want to change that.”

Tears tickled the backs of Dakota’s eyes.

Walt’s arm came around her, her anchor, her support.

“I love you, too,” she said, brushing away a fallen tear.

Mary sighed, patted her on the back. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Mary took to the podium to introduce her. Her BFF did her justice, repeating her accolades and achievements.

Dakota let her belly lead the way, accepted the audience’s enthusiastic applause.

When they settled, she glanced over the crowd, saw her family and her husband, smiling from the eaves.

Before she uttered a word, Junior gave a solid kick, making her hand grasp her belly. “Oh,” she said. “This baby thing . . . I’m sure some of you will understand if I suddenly run off to the loo.” Using the English term for bathroom always captured the American audience by surprise.

Laughter rose and several hands clapped.

“How about these shirts?” she asked, accepted more applause. “We’ve purposely waited to find out if Junior here is a boy or a girl, but my husband is a doctor.” She winked across the room. “He’s looked at those ultrasounds a little too much for someone who says he doesn’t know the gender of our child.”

She waved a finger Walt’s way, made sure several heads turned to look at him.

Walt shrugged, looked at the ceiling, but didn’t say a word.

“I know this day is about celebrating the next chapter . . . the next book. None of that has been more true to me personally that being here with my family.”

She waited for the applause to die. “Imagine an author . . . one who makes her living writing happily-ever-afters, never having found everlasting love. Then one day, the love of her world walks into her life and redefines everything.”

Walt tilted his head, listening to her words.

“Imagine what that author will be able to bring into her next book, her next chapter?”

She took a long breath and pushed the air out in a sigh.

“I believe you’ll all love Mathew and Cassidy’s happily-ever-after. God knows I do. They brought me face-to-face with the love of my life.” She raised her hand to Walt, waited for more than half the audience to turn. “He’s mine, ladies. The inspiration to my every chapter thirteen . . . or chapter fifteen, eighteen . . . or maybe even chapter two.”

The audience laughed, Dakota pulled herself back.

“Give it up for Dr. Baby Daddy, the inspiration to my chapter thirteens and all my happily-ever-afters.”

As complete as she might have felt the last time she addressed a gaggle of fans, none were like this.

Dakota captured Walt’s gaze, mouthed the words,
I love you
.

He blew her a kiss, told her he loved her, and Dakota began the next chapter in her life.

Acknowledgments

There are so many people in my life that came to mind while writing this book. Every author, reader, editor, publisher, and agent I’ve ever met filled the pages of this book. While writing is a very solitary art, interacting with readers and other writers is not. When attending conventions, we invade hotels, take over restaurants, overfill bars . . . and we create memories that will last a lifetime. For all my writer and reader friends . . . I won’t list names, for that list would be way too long and I’d undoubtedly forget someone or misspell a name. You know who you are. Thank you for being a part of my life.

As always, thank you Jane Dystel and everyone at Dystel and Goderich Literary Management. If I ever get bumped up to the penthouse suite in New York, drinks are on me.

My editor, Kelli Martin, and everyone at Montlake for believing in every book I write. Let’s order some champagne at the next convention . . . OK?

TJ MacKay, my partner in crime who I have a hard time rooming without. Love ya, babe.

My critique partner, Sandra/Angel . . . so happy you’re writing full-time now.

For all the doctors I’ve known that inspire my every Dr. Eddy.

And finally . . . I round back to Angelique. A sister through marriage, but more importantly, in my heart. You defended and supported me early on, strengthening a bond usually reserved for blood relatives. I will never forget those first months in California. Ever.

You’ve gone on to carve a career from nothing, and are raising beautiful children on your terms. For reasons I’m sure you can see . . . this book was dedicated to you.

I love you,

Catherine

About the Author

Photo © 2012 Lindsey Meyer

New York Times
bestselling author Catherine Bybee was raised in Washington State, but after graduating high school, she moved to Southern California in hopes of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the novels
Wife by Wednesday
,
Married by Monday
,
Fiancé by Friday
,
Single by Saturday
, and
Taken by Tuesday
in her Weekday Brides series and
Not Quite Dating
,
Not Quite Mine
,
Not Quite Enough
, and
Not Quite Forever
in her Not Quite series. Bybee lives with her husband and two teenage sons in Southern California.