Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
EPILOGUE: SOME KIND OF FULL CIRCLE
Juliet
Next Year
“Now, listen. You better have fun exploring the Galápagos,” I tell Eleanor, who called into Heartbreakers and Matchmakers to celebrate the first anniversary of her honeymoon.
“Don’t you worry. I am always having fun,” our biggest fan tells us. “We have a snorkel lesson in an hour.”
It’s been almost a year since she gifted us that house. But really, she gifted us an opportunity to come together in ways I don’t think either of us could have anticipated when we drove to Darling Springs that Sunday nearly twelve months ago.
We’re in the studio for another episode of our show, which has grown tremendously since then. Sadie’s in the booth with us today as always. She’s become our full-time producer, and she’s helped us as we’ve inked partnerships with dating coaches and experts, collaborated with Date Night, and interviewed romance experts from around the world on global dating trends. I even expanded into that line of champagne like I’d planned, thanks to my friend Aubrey. It’s a fun tie-in to my breakup parties, which have grown too. Some of my clients want more therapeutic parties, so I’ve paired up with a shrink—not Monroe, but a woman I know—to offer those fetes to my party repertoire.
So much of the podcast’s success, though, is due to Eleanor. She’s a fairy godmother of sorts. “Before you go, I’ve always been meaning to ask you a question,” I say.
“Of course darling,” she says.
“It’s something we’ve been debating over the last year,” Monroe puts in.
“Is this going to be another bet?” Eleanor asks. “Because I do love your bets.”
They’ve become a thing on our show in the last year. Little bets we tease the other with. We call them flirty bets and we nearly always report back on air. The consequences are romantic—plan a date night or give the other a massage. Some are downright naughty. Like, see who can edge the other the longest, or winner picks a sexy new position.
“I love our bets,” Monroe says in a rumble that shimmies down my chest and goes straight to my panties. “Even when I lose I win.”
“Flirty bets are the best bets,” I say. “But this isn’t exactly a flirty bet.”
“Such a shame,” Eleanor says, playfully pouty. “But fine, ask away.”
I lean closer, eager to know the answer at last. “I have a feeling that you have a special connection to Darling Springs. Beyond just the house. When I saw your picture on social media, something about you felt familiar. I couldn’t quite place it. I’ve never really been able to place it. But I’ve always been curious.”
“Is that so?” She sounds highly amused.
“I say it’s just coincidence,” Monroe says, still the pragmatic one.
We don’t always agree on everything. It makes for a good show.
“Monroe, don’t you know Juliet is usually right,” Eleanor says, chiding the man playfully.
I pump a fist. “Score. Alright. What’s the connection?”
Without hesitation, Eleanor adds, “I own The Slippery Dipper. I was there the day you two met each other’s eyes across a bar of soap. When I heard you were doing the podcast, I thought, I remember that day. I had a feeling about the two of them. I called in,” she says.
You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if you tried. “No kidding?”
“Swear. Kind of funny, isn’t it?”
Monroe’s bright blue eyes sparkle. “That’s some kind of full circle.”
“I had no idea you owned the store or knew us,” I say, amazed at Eleanor’s astuteness and also her silence. “You never said a word.”
“Some projects take longer to bake than others,” she says. “And I didn’t think you’d want to hear it at first.”
“Why did you think we were finally ready to hear it when you gave us your house then?”
“Because I felt it every time I listened to the two of you. You kept flirting, teasing each other, provoking each other. Someone had to do something to get you to see it.”
“Like make us spend a week in a house together,” I say, fingering the house charm on the chain. It’s warm against my skin. Monroe’s eyes drift to it then sparkle with passion.
“It worked,” she says proudly.
She was there when we met again. She called in because of it. We helped her with her romance, and she helped us with ours.
“I’m glad yours is still going strong, Eleanor. Oh, and thanks for the corset.”
“They’re magic,” she muses.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Monroe says in a sensual rumble that makes me think of things we’ll do tonight at his home. We live together there with Mustache, who proved he’s the world’s most unusual cat by being sweet to Monroe from the start, loving on him, like he loves on me.
We let Eleanor go, and Sadie, with a devilish grin, gives the signal it’s time to wrap up. I’m a good girl, so I nod dutifully. “And it’s time to say goodbye this week,” I say, segueing into our sign-off.