The Romantics(69)
a final note from Love
Aww, don’t you just love a good happy ending?
If you’re wondering if I had any role in this final push to bring these kids together, well, as a matter of fact, I did.
I may have been responsible for Sammy’s phone inexplicably coming back on. And I may have handcrafted a CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS sign on the only other interrogation room in Terminal 2.
Plus a few other tricks that need not be explained. I do have to maintain an air of mystery.
Listen, it was the least I could do after the mess I’d created.
I would never be able to make it up to Gael’s parents, and maybe, in the end, that’s how it was supposed to be. Maybe, as Piper reminded Gael (and me), the love they had now, though different, was still just as important. Maybe the happily ever after in store for them was a different one than I’d pictured.
I mean, if I’ve learned anything from this whole debacle, it’s that I certainly am not always right.
Still, I had come through for Gael and Sammy.
They were on the right track, and their romance was ready to blossom.
Now, all I had to do was wait about twenty years for Gael’s big movie to come out. And, believe me, I was definitely finagling premiere tickets for that one . . .
Anyway, forgive my rudeness, but I must cut my final speech a little short.
See, there’s a boy in Baltimore waiting at the airport, with a teddy bear, balloons, and a heart-shaped box of chocolates in his hands. A boy who’s about to have his heart broken when he realizes that Sammy won’t actually be stepping off that plane.
And to be totally frank, I’ve got my work cut out for me again.
Because John, like Gael, is a Certified Grade-A Romantic.
Oh, dear.
Here we go again.
acknowledgments
A huge thanks to the many people (and places) who made writing this book possible.
To Annie Stone, for crazy-good insights, phone calls over the holidays, and your willingness to tackle editorial notes via text—I could not have done this without you, and I promise to (try to) take up less of your personal time in the future. And to Josh Bank, Sara Shandler, and the Alloy family—you’re the brainstorming dream team I never knew I wanted. Also, a big thanks to Emilia Rhodes for taking a chance on my writing and this story. And to Danielle Rollins—our semi-regular, err, meetings at Rye turned out way more productive than either of us could have imagined!
To Anne Heltzel, for adoring my hopeless starry-eyed hero just as much as I do and believing in this book with all your romance-loving heart. And to the entire team at Abrams—you guys sure know how to make an author feel supported.
To my agent, Danielle Chiotti—you and the Upstart Crow team are rock stars. Thanks ever so much.
To the town of Chapel Hill, for taking me under its wing and giving me some of the best four years of my life. And to the crew at Cosmic Cantina: Thanks for knowing my order for four years, and sorry if I stole your hot sauce once or twice. To the “Hall of Hottness,” you made Chapel Hill what it is for me.
To my mom, dad, and Kimberly—you’re not only super-supportive of my writing, but you’re all a bunch of movie addicts like me. Mom, thanks for exposing me to Hitchcock from a young age. Dad, thanks for taking me to all the Star Wars, even though the movie theater was far away. Kimberly, thanks for working through the Blockbuster horror section with me. I couldn’t have written a book about a movie buff without you. And to Farley, I’m not sure if the movies we watch together get through to you, but that one time you barked your head off at the villain in Sicario, so I like to think they do.
Finally, to my NYC single ladies (and former single ladies)—thanks for braving the insane Brooklyn dating scene with me so I’d have lots of fodder for a romantic comedy. And to Thomas, for taking me out of said scene and never being afraid to be your own romantic self.