Stepbrother Billionaire(63)

Epilogue



One year later...





I push down on the top of the french press and pour the delicious-smelling coffee into three generous mugs. Two excited voices banter behind me, and I turn toward them with a smile.

“Here we are,” I say, setting the three mugs down on the kitchen island, “We can’t plot brilliant business strategy without coffee.”

“That, my dear, is a fact,” Riley says, gratefully taking her cup.

“Here, here,” Emerson replies, grabbing one for himself.

I settle down at the island beside them. The entire surface is covered with outlines, graphs, and ideas. A flurry of excited butterflies rally around my stomach as I look over all our hard work.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” I grin.

“Sure is,” Riley replies, “You guys are ready to launch.”

“I just have one more feature I want to add to the app, and we’ll be golden,” Emerson says, stepping my way and slipping his arm around my slender waist. “You feeling good, Ms. Founding Partner?”

“Good and ready, Mr. Founding Partner,” I laugh, clinking my coffee mug to his.

For the past year, Emerson and I have been hard at work developing a suite of new applications to take the world by storm. The suite will be the centerpiece and first project of our two-person creative collective: Treehouse. We’re the founding partners, CEOs, and only employees—save for our PR consultant, Riley, and our de facto mascot, Roxie. But though we may be small, I feel very good about our operation.

Our first batch of apps is targeted at friends and family of people struggling with substance abuse. There are resources, information, and support available through this modest suite of applications. There’s even a way for individuals to get in touch with each other, share the burden of living with and loving someone who’s self-destructing. Basically, it’s everything Emerson and I wish we had as kids, everything we were eventually able to give each other...only in app form.

Hey, it’s 2015, after all.

“All you need to do is press ‘publish’ and you’ll be good to go!” Riley says excitedly.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Emerson asks, sliding a tablet my way with the suite of apps pulled up, ready to be launched.

“We’ll do it together,” I say, taking his hand in mine. I feel his wedding band brush against my hand and get a little thrill. We only just said “I do” at a small City Hall ceremony last month, so seeing his wedding band is still new.

“Together,” Emerson agrees, “Naturally.”

“Get on with it, lovebirds!” Riley says excitedly, “I want to put out the press release!”

With hands clasped, Emerson and I each lower a finger to the “big red button,” and introduce the world to our latest idea. After months of tireless effort, it feels wonderful.

There may have been a time when starting my own business, launching a brand new product, and subjecting myself to the crazy world of the internet may have been terrifying. But as I look up at Emerson, I realize that I’ve already taken the biggest, best risk of my life. Nothing can stop me now.

Scratch that, I think, as Emerson scoops me up into a celebratory kiss. Nothing can stop us, now.



THE END





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If you enjoyed “Stepbrother Billionaire” be sure to read below for an excerpt from Colleen Masters’ next book—coming January 2015.



UNTITLED

By Colleen Masters



The night air is warm for the spring as I walk across campus to meet Cara and her friends. I pass other students heading out for the night and feel happy to count myself among them. I go over my rules for myself as I near the crew house, which is just across the street from campus. No more than three drinks. No talking about classes. No weirdness around Nate Thornhill.

"Brynn!" Cara yells from the opposite sidewalk. I wave as I head over. "I can't believe you got a Lawn Room! That's amazing!" I lean over to give her a hug. She's an effortlessly cool, petite brunette – the kind of girl that everyone considers to be their friend.

"Thanks!"

"Holy shit! You got a Lawn Room? Are you, like, a genius or something?" her friend Rachel asks, her jaw dropping.

"I wish! Then all those papers would have taken me way less time," I reply with a laugh.

"Cara says you've never been to a crew party?" Marie, the knockout of the group, asks.

"Nope…just never made my way over here I guess," I reply, downplaying the situation.

"Well, they have the best parties," she assures me. "And the hottest guys."

"Lacrosse guys are hotter," Rachel argues.

"Of course, if you can get a combination of the two…" Marie murmurs, and they burst into laughter. My ears prick up – were they talking about Nate?