Epilogue

The seats were incredibly comfortable in the luxury box adjoining the owner’s suite, but Maggie doubted Sadie knew it since she’d spent the entire game standing pressed against the railing at the front of the box, cheering for her team and agonizing over every pitch. The Mariners were in the playoff hunt—as Sadie had explained repeatedly and in great detail on the drive up from Long Shores this morning—and they were down by two in the bottom of the seventh.

Kirpa, Sadie’s best-friend-forever-and-ever, hung on the railing beside her, avidly watching the game and hanging on Sadie’s every word, though Maggie got the sense Kirpa understood about as much of the action as she herself did. Sadie and Kirpa had built their bond as summer pen pals over Harry Potter, not sports, though Kirpa seemed to be picking up the nuances of the game faster than Maggie was.

Maggie still couldn’t tell a slider from a split-finger. Whatever that was.

Ian was sprawled at her side, his arm draped along the back of her chair. That arm was surprisingly relaxed for a man who stiffened and shouted every time some inexplicable bit of action occurred down on the field. He’d been more relaxed in general lately. Maggie would love to take all the credit for that, but she had a feeling it had more to do with the fact that he was playing again, and writing music in his spare time.

He’d been violently opposed to the idea of trading on her industry connections to advance his music career, so she’d promised not to interfere—but Ian was insanely talented, so when the director of the little indie film she’d done earlier in the summer had heard him playing for her in her trailer, she hadn’t had to say a word. He’d begged Ian to put one of his songs on the soundtrack and, now that the film was screening at film festivals to rave reviews, Ian was starting to get calls from other directors who wanted his work. He’d even insisted on paying for the luxury suite himself, with the proceeds from his first royalty check.

Mel was annoyed with him for not taking her advice and signing with the music agent she’d recommended—but other than that her lover and her manager were getting along better than Maggie could have ever dreamed. Mel sat in the row behind them in head-to-toe Dodger gear, likely just to be contrary and wind Ian up—which he seemed to enjoy.

Maggie hadn’t expected that friendship, but when she questioned Ian about it, he’d said Mel reminded him of Lolly. It was a comparison Maggie never would have made on her own, but once he mentioned it she’d started seeing the similarities between the two strong women who loved to run other people’s lives.

Mel’s new girlfriend sat beside her, listening intently as Mel explained the game—as if she hadn’t just learned all the rules herself four months ago in a bid to out-do Ian’s knowledge of baseball.

Mrs. Summer—who Maggie still had a hard time calling Allison—perched behind Mel in the back row of the luxury box with a couple of her book club friends and Ellen from Long Shores, the four of them giggling over margaritas. Ian often complained that he was surrounded by women, but she knew he loved their patchwork family—and there was at least one other representative from Team Testosterone there today, since Bree and Cross sat on Mel’s other side, having flown up with them on the jet yesterday.

Sadie’s school would be starting in a few days and they’d decided to keep her at St. Vincent’s for at least one more year—in part because she was so excited to go back. She and Kirpa were in the same class this year and they would be dissecting frogs, both of which were apparently strong marks in favor of St. Vincent’s over LA schools. The frog thing sounded like a terrible reason to Maggie, but Sadie was inexplicably excited about it.

Maggie had wrapped principle photography for the latest Alien Adventuress film only two days ago. She’d still have to go back for reshoots and post-production tweaks, but for now they could finally get back to Long Shores—and she could start figuring out what they were actually going to do with Aunt Lolly’s house.

Maybe she’d turn it into a film set. It had character. Though she was pretty sure the electrical panel couldn’t handle the lights and cameras. Still, it was something she’d been thinking about lately. Maybe directing…maybe honoring Lolly’s life through film—

Ian jerked at her side, launching out of his seat at the crack of a bat, and Maggie surged to her feet in solidarity. Sadie and Kirpa screamed, flinging their arms over their heads. Fireworks exploded over the far bleachers as the scoreboard flashed the giant block letters, “IT’S GRAND SALAMI TIME!”

Whatever that meant. But it was obviously good.

As the crowd went nuts, Maggie played the part of someone who actually understood what the hell was going on in the game and cheered, clapping and jumping until Ian swept his arm around her waist and kissed her.

All right then. This part of baseball she could definitely get behind.

When they broke apart, Ian’s dark eyes were laughing down at her. “You have no idea what just happened, do you?” he asked, his voice pitched low beneath the continued roar in the stadium.

“Not a clue,” she admitted cheerfully.

He laughed. “Having fun anyway?”

“The best time of my life.”

And the words were true. She couldn’t remember ever being as happy as she was in this moment. Surrounded by the people she loved, simply being. Watching baseball was a lot like watching a fire burn all night, in her opinion—three hours of not much happening—and she loved every minute of it.

They settled back in their chairs as the next batter came to the plate—see? Baseball jargon! She knew this stuff.

Sort of.

The batter struck out, but they were still riding the pleasant hum of the new lead into the gap between innings. The scoreboard lit up and Maggie’s gaze went to it automatically to see what game the giant screen would display to entertain the fans until the action resumed.

But this time, instead of a hydroplane race or a hat game, nine words took up the biggest jumbo screen she’d ever seen in her life.

I LOVE YOU, MAGGIE MAY. WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Her gaze snapped down from the giant letters to the man at her side, who was grinning at her and holding a diamond ring between his thumb and forefinger. “What do you say?”

Her breath whooshed out at the look in his eyes.

They’d talked about marriage. A lot. She’d sort of considered them more or less engaged since the day he’d come to her film set in LA. But his divorce had only been finalized a few weeks ago and all their talk of marriage had been in a distant future sort of way. Someday. Eventually. Later.

But later was now. He was asking. For real. Not just in a hypothetical someday way.

She’d always thought if someone loved her enough, in a big cinematic Jumbotron way, then it would complete her. But she didn’t need that anymore. The grand gestures. The performance of love.

“I don’t need all this,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted you to have it anyway. I wanted to shout it from the Jumbotron that I’m in love with you. Too much?”

Maybe. But she loved it.

She shook her head, looking down at the gorgeous ring. It wasn’t huge, but there was something familiar about it. Her breath caught and her gaze flicked back two rows to Mrs. Summer—Allison. She smiled and waved, her ring finger bare—and Maggie realized not just that it was the ring Ian’s father had given her mother, but also that everyone in the box was watching them. The rest of the stadium had moved on, the screen flashing Happy Birthday and Anniversary greetings now, but inside their little bubble, everyone was waiting for her answer. Sadie’s eyes were hopeful, her dimples pressing into her cheeks as she tried to hold back her smile. Mel’s eyes were misty as she pretended she wasn’t choked up. Bree was beaming already—never holding anything back. And every last bit of it was perfect.

Ian had given her this moment, surrounded by faces reflecting love—and she wanted to give him every moment of the rest of her life, and all the love in her heart. Which she was learning was an awful lot of love. More every day.

She met his eyes. “Yes.”

He grinned, his mouth tipping up higher on one side than the other. “Yeah?”

“Of course. Since the leeches, remember?”

His brows arched. “You aren’t just saying that to complete the moment?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, thrusting out her hand. “Gimme the ring, Ian Summer.”

“So bossy.” He grinned, sliding the ring onto her finger. It was a little loose, but couldn’t have been more perfect. As soon as it nestled into place, Sadie squeaked, no longer able to restrain herself, and flung herself at them.

Maggie caught her, laughing—and then Mel was leaning over the back of the seats and Bree was squeezing in and she found herself at the center of a knot of people in the world’s most awkward group hug—all of them laughing, half of them crying, everyone talking at once, and her heart swelling to fill her up so full it felt like she was going to burst.

When they all finally resumed their seats, there were already two outs in the bottom of the eighth inning. Maggie cuddled up against Ian’s arm, admiring the ring on her finger more than watching the game. She sighed and whispered, “I love you, Ian Summer.”

He smiled, bending his head close to her to murmur, “I couldn’t leave you if I tried, Maggie May.”

“Good.”

He chuckled, turning his attention back to the game, though his hand reached down and interlaced his fingers with hers. She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled.

Maggie Tate, Queen of Illusions, Hot Mess of Hollywood, had finally found something real. And she was never letting go.