The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

until Maastricht was liberated. I spent a year fighting in secret with the Dutch Resistance, and I know too much for them to chance me being captured, which means the only planes I’ll be flying belong to my uncle, right here.”

“So it’s over?” she asked, her voice edged with the same desperation he felt.

“It’s over. I’m home.” He kissed her again, sinking into her mouth as she gripped the lapels of his uniform, tugging him closer.

“You’re home.” She smiled, wide and brilliant.

He dipped, locking his arms at the backs of her thighs, and lifted her to his eye level. Then he kissed her until he’d reacquainted himself with every line and curve of her mouth.

A rustle caught his attention, and his breath stuttered at the sight of William asleep on the blanket, his hand tucked beneath his head. Slowly, he set Scarlett down. “He’s so big.”

She nodded. “He’s perfect. Do you want to wake him?” Her eyes danced.

Jameson swallowed, his throat and chest tight as he glanced between his dreaming son and the love of his life. Perfect. It was all perfect, and better than anything he’d imagined during the long, empty nights and battle-torn days. He sank his hands into the silk of Scarlett’s hair and grinned at his wife. “In a few minutes.”

Her smile was slow as she leaned up for another kiss.

“In a few minutes,” she agreed.

He was home.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Georgia

Three years later

I smiled and read the last page once more before whispering a quiet goodbye to Jameson and Scarlett. Then I shut the book and returned to the real world, where my real husband was currently getting ready to launch his new book four aisles over.

My thumb trailed across the names on the cover. One, I’d known since birth but never met, and the other I’d met in this very spot and would know for the rest of my life.

“I can tell you how it ends,” Noah said in my ear as he came up behind me, his voice low and his arms warm.

“Can you?” I leaned back, brushing a kiss over his jaw. “I heard the ending was even a surprise to the author on release day.” I grinned shamelessly.

“Huh. Imagine that.”

“Much more satisfying sex scenes than his normal books, too.” I shrugged.

He scoffed. “Have you read his latest? Pretty sure he got ahold of some excellent inspiration.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to check it out.”

“I’d be happy to give you a private reading.”

I laughed so hard, I almost snorted. “Okay, that was just bad.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Definitely not my best. How about, ‘Kiss me, Georgia, I have to go sign some books.’”

“That, I can do.” I tilted my head and kissed him, keeping it PG-13. Barely. The man was too addictive for public consumption.

His grip tightened and he nipped my lower lip. “I love you.”

“I love you. Now go do your thing. I’m going to head next door and do mine.” I flashed him a smile and he stole another kiss before disappearing down the next aisle, leaving me dazed for a moment, staring after him as a woman wandered into the romance section next to me.

“That is such a good book,” she said, nodding enthusiastically at the one in my hands and clutching Noah’s latest hardcover. “If you haven’t read it, you have to. Trust me. You won’t regret it. Amazing.”

“Thanks. I always appreciate a good recommendation. You here for the signing?” I shifted my weight. Pregnancy was doing weird things to my balance, and I was still wiped out from jet lag.

“I came all the way from Cheyenne, Wyoming,” she said with a grin. “My sister’s holding my place in line. Have you seen him? He’s gorgeous.” She lifted her brows. “Seriously.”

“I definitely wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” I agreed. I never did. In fact, I spent as much time as possible letting him get me into bed. The fact that Noah got more handsome every single day had not escaped my notice—far from it.

“Right? Me either. Oh, it’s starting!” She waved and disappeared into the next aisle.

I grinned and slid the book back onto the shelf, right next to the Scarlett Stanton books where it belonged. It was still my favorite of Gran’s books—Noah’s too. Within those pages, Scarlett and Jameson loved, fought, and most importantly, lived.

Here in the real world, we’d buried Jameson’s ring last week under a large, shady tree by a quiet pond in the middle of England next to a marble headstone that read Constance Wadsworth. I couldn’t help but feel like they were all finally at peace.

I headed for the door, my eyes locking with Noah’s as I passed by the table. Love shined in his gaze, and we smiled at each other like the besotted fools we were. It was our turn to live out our own epic love story, and I treasured every single minute of it.

We both did.

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Acknowledgments

First and foremost, thank you to my Heavenly Father for blessing me beyond my wildest dreams.

Thank you to my husband, Jason, for pulling me through this utter bear of a year. For holding my hand in the darkest moments and making me laugh when I was sure I’d never find anything funny again. Thank you to my children, who have handled quarantines and social distancing for their high-risk brother with grace and love. Never doubt that you are essential to my existence. To my sister, Kate, for always picking up the phone. To my parents, who bring me coffee creamer from a thousand miles away. To my best friend, Emily Byer, for never blinking when I’m on deadline for months.

Thank you to my team at Entangled. Thank you to my editor, Stacy Abrams, for jumping in and taking this book on. You are simply incredible. To Liz Pelletier, Heather, and Jessica for answering endless streams of emails. To my phenomenal agent, Louise Fury, who makes my life easier simply by standing at my back.

Thank you to