Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,52

mischief.

“I’ll marry you, but only if you . . . give me those thirty pounds.”

“Thirty pounds?” his mom exclaimed. “Thirty pounds of what?”

He burst out laughing. “I’ll get on it.”

Her chest came flush to his, her other arm wrapped around his shoulders, her lips moving very close to his. “See that you do.” And then laughing, she touched her mouth to his, her whispered, “Yes,” exhaled against his lips.

He banded his arms around her, held her tight, and forgot all about his family as he kissed the love of his life.

At least until footsteps pounded against the floor.

Until a groan came and a “Mr. Finn. Again?”

Shannon pulled away, still laughing, and squatted in front of her daughter, tugging her close and hugging her tight. “Still with the Mr. Finn, huh?”

“I like it.”

“Would you like to maybe call him Dad?” Shan asked, pulling back slightly, cupping her daughter’s cheek in her palm.

His lungs froze, his heart squeezed. “It’s okay if you don’t want—”

Wide eyes turned to his.

“You’ll stay?”

“Yes,” he said, kneeling down next to Shannon and Ry.

“Forever?”

Finn nodded. “Yes.” He was ready when she launched herself at him this time, arms catching her and bringing her close, hugging this little girl, who was wonderful in her own right, tight. “I love you, Ms. Ry.”

Her whisper just reached his ears. “I love you, Mr.—” She squeezed him back. “I love you, too, Dad.”

And kneeling there on the kitchen tile, one arm around this little girl, his other wrapped around the woman he loved, so much happy and bright and love filling him and this space surrounding them and . . .

Finn lost his heart all over again.

But that was okay.

Because his girls had him.

And they weren’t letting go.

Epilogue

Part Two—That’s the Shot

Shannon, A Year Later

She was wearing a fancy dress and big ol’ heels.

But that wasn’t the most surreal thing.

No, the most surreal thing was that she’d gotten used to the flashes of lights, used to the red carpet, used to the cameras occasionally being pointed in her direction, used to the odd story here or there on the gossip sites.

It hadn’t been the odd story at first.

For a while, after news of their small wedding had broken, it had been all the stories.

But Stoneybrook was still their safe place.

The odd paparazzo found their way into town now and then, but Stoneybrook’s residents always pulled rank, tightened their inner circle, and froze the photographers out. They quickly found out that the long trip to town wasn’t worth the mediocre pictures.

Time had passed.

The media had moved on to the next story.

Finn still left to film movies, though he’d lightened his promotion and shooting schedule considerably so he could spend more time with his girls. Shan still taught third grade, and Rylie was now in second grade—well, almost done with second. And to celebrate the end of another school year, as well as some expensive lawyering—cough, movie star perks—Finn had formally adopted Ry.

So, things were the same.

And yet, so, so different.

They were a family. They’d been welcomed by Finn’s parents and siblings. They had ties and connections and a house that was often loud and full to bursting with people and voices and love. And . . . Shan had piles of textbooks at home, online courses in progress, now knowing that while she still wanted to work with kids, instead of being solely in the classroom, she wanted to focus more on educational intervention and social support. She wanted to help the kids who were falling behind, wanted to stop them from slipping between the cracks.

It paid even less than being a teacher.

But funny how being married to a movie star made that less of a worry. Ha.

Looking decent in front of a bunch of flashbulbs while six months pregnant, on the other hand, was a bigger one.

“Shannon!”

“Look here!”

“Shan!”

Thankfully, she’d practiced for this moment. She’d gotten the posing tips, her hair done, her dress from a designer and yet, underneath it all, she was just a normal mom. Maybe she had never fit in with the rail-thin, blonde-beauty princesses in all the fairy tales she’d yearned for, but now she didn’t mind that her hair was dark, that she was very far away from those skinny, fictional stereotypes.

She had her happy ending.

She didn’t need to fit into a story or a film or—

“Blue Eyes.”

A shiver skated down her spine.

Despite the calls of her name, she’d been hanging to the side, letting the big stars do the heavy lifting of photo-call. This movie may have