Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(99)
“His wedding night?”
“Look, it’s Dylan.”
He laughs. “I’ll tell him I’m needed elsewhere.”
“Good, because Uncle Milton’s horse paintings have been asking about you.”
“I’m into it,” he says. “And you know what else I’m into? Not being surrounded by my entire wardrobe.”
My heart squeezes happily, like it does every time I remember he’s staying. He’s staying he’s staying he’s staying. “I’ll help you unpack first thing tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to do that—”
“Hi, you gave up California. For me,” I remind him. “And the fact that I get to keep you on my coast? I’ll clean your whole room every day until school starts. I don’t even care.”
He laughs. “How long’s the ride to Wesleyan again?”
“Two hours or so by train. It’s like twenty-five bucks, but there’s a discount if you buy a bunch of tickets in advance. Like, if you know you’re going to visit a lot.” I smile. “We should visit a lot.”
“Okay, but—” Ben turns to me, suddenly, with an expression I can’t quite decipher. But when his eyes meet mine, they’re practically shooting off sparks. “What if we don’t?”
Epilogue
The World Falls Away
Ben
Four Years Later
Brooklyn, NY
Not every story has a happy ending.
Sometimes you try and try, but it doesn’t come together. You end up wasting so much time by trying to force something that will never work, instead of moving on to the next best thing. It’s a really tough lesson, especially when there’s years of comfort and happiness involved. It’s even tougher when big dreams are involved. But saying goodbye can be really freeing and open new doors for you.
That’s certainly the case for The Wicked Wizard War.
I really, really wanted it to sell. It was the book I started in high school and dropped out of college to finish because I believed in it so much. Even though my wicked wizards were able to charm my literary agent into representing me, the book didn’t quite cast the same spell when it reached publishers. My agent, Percy, encouraged me to start the next book. It was popular advice, but I didn’t have it in me. I thought I was going to be the exception to every rule, and I felt totally powerless when I couldn’t make my wildest dreams come true.
But I found my power again because of my biggest fan.
My incredible boyfriend, Arthur Seuss.
When I followed Arthur to Connecticut at the beginning of his sophomore year, I rented a bedroom near Wesleyan and RJ Julia, where I got a job as a bookseller. Arthur knew how pathetic I felt after The Wicked Wizard War didn’t sell. But he didn’t let me give up on writing.
The idea for my contemporary novel seemed to come out of nowhere. I remember Arthur’s head was resting on my shoulder when I opened the blank document and started writing. Ten months later, when I finished that brutal first draft, Arthur was already begging to read it. When my agent called a few weeks ago with the news that The Best Us sold to a publisher after a four-house auction, Arthur popped open a bottle of prosecco and we danced around our tiny Brooklyn apartment.
I would have called my parents and the Boggs Squad the next morning to share the news, but then Arthur had a pretty amazing idea to announce my book deal in style. I haven’t even begun officially editing the book yet, but Arthur thought it would be cool if we hosted a gathering where I could read a couple pages. He called it a dress rehearsal, because he’s always got Broadway on the brain—especially since Jacob hired him for real right after graduation.
So for tonight, we’ve converted our apartment into a small coffee shop—Café Bart.
Our home doesn’t even feel big enough for the both of us, let alone our border collie Beauregard, who gets really hyper whenever we return from anywhere, even if it’s down the hall to throw out trash. But it’s a straight-up fire hazard now, with how many people we’re hosting.
It’s a little overwhelming. But everyone seems to be having an amazing time.
Arthur is with his parents and Ma and Pa, who are still gushing over how much they loved last night’s show. Arthur and the whole Demsky Theatrics team really put their all into Out in the City, and it’s paying off. The critics who attended the premiere are giving it really great reviews—and I’ve managed to distract Arthur from seeing the one that was kind of so-so.
Ethan and his a cappella boyfriend, Jeremy, are on our makeshift stage—the ottoman with a secret compartment for Beauregard’s toys—and they’re singing “Here’s to Us” by Halestorm. They’ve got Abuelita; Bubbe; my Connecticut roommate, Yael; Jessie and Grayson; and my bookseller friends mesmerized. And Taj is being an absolute hero recording them for Ethan and Jeremy’s joint TikTok account.
My bedroom door opens, and my four-year-old godson Sammy comes running out with a glass clock from the set of the pilot of the TV show Mario and his uncle wrapped filming last month; fingers crossed the show gets picked up because it sounds amazing. Only fifty of those clocks were made, so I’d really appreciate it if Sammy doesn’t break it like he did my Nintendo controller.