out.
She nodded. “I read your book.” She smiled through glittery tears. “Your words…the way you saw me. I can’t explain how it made me feel.” Her bottom lip trembled. “I love you, and I don’t want to hide anymore.”
Cooper bent toward her. He groaned and slid his mouth across hers, his hunger and relief getting the better of him. He kissed her long and thoroughly. Until the crowd began to cheer, their voices and clapping louder than ever. He kissed her until his head spun. Until Morgan clung to him as if he was the only thing holding her up.
He kissed her because he knew, unequivocally, that she was his forever girl. Morgan Campbell was the one. He kissed her until she knew it as well.
When he finally dragged his mouth away, Maverick stood a few feet from him, grinning crazily. “You two keep that up and the damn movie will be done and over before you leave this red carpet.”
Cooper slid his hand over Morgan’s and threaded his fingers into hers. “This is going to be a crazy ride. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
Morgan didn’t miss a beat. “A normal girl would be crazy to even contemplate such a thing.”
“True.”
“You’re lucky, then. Because I’m not normal.”
Cooper Simon walked Morgan Campbell into the theater. He avoided everyone and pulled her into the very back where they could have some modicum of privacy. He held her in his arms, stroked her hair, and nuzzled her neck as his cousin Beau brought alive Soft Hands. A movie about a blind man who, in spite of everything thrown his way, found love and purpose and the ability to see the world through the eyes of his lover. His partner.
His forever girl.
Cooper finally knew what that kind of love felt like, and he was damn well never letting it go.
Epilogue
The house was not far from Cooper River in the French Quarter of Charleston. Beautifully kept, the Greek Revival was impressive, its wide porch welcoming. An iron fence surrounded the property and, once through the gate the path leading to the house was lined with black-eyed Susans, purple daisies, and marigolds. The smell of magnolia blossoms filled the air, and Cooper spotted a few bushes near the porch.
“I’m nervous.”
He glanced down at Morgan, his hand linked with hers, and paused at the edge of the porch.
The media frenzy hadn’t cooled off. The notoriety surrounding Cooper and Morgan, coupled with the massive success of Soft Hands, amped up the interest in the couple to a point where it became impossible to ignore. Paparazzi were everywhere, camped outside Cooper’s homes in Florida and California, the Simon family compound in the Keys, their place on Lake Muskoka. They’d even set up shop in Fisherman’s Landing.
It was a crazy roller coaster of a ride, but by the end of the month, Cooper knew he needed to get Morgan away from it all. His woman was one hell of a trouper, but he could see the fatigue starting. It was hard to ignore the photos and stories in print and online—most of them respectful—but a handful were salacious and exploitive.
He was looking forward to the next month—four weeks with Morgan all to himself—but first they had some business to attend to.
“You ready?” he asked, watching her closely. Her skin glowed, her hair glistened, and those damn eyes that he’d like to drown himself in sparkled. Dressed simply in jeans, Birks, and a white blouse, she looked fresh and healthy and happy. Damn, but it made him feel good to think he was part of that.
Her fingers tightened in his grip. “What if we’ve got this wrong?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
The two of them made their way up the steps. Morgan fidgeted nervously while he waited for someone to answer his knock. They didn’t have to wait long, and a young woman, probably late teens, answered. She was a pretty little thing, with long blonde hair and big brown eyes. Eyes that widened into huge saucers about five seconds after opening the door.
“You guys look like…” she stammered, her face flushed pink as her gaze swept from Cooper to Morgan and then did a repeat. “Oh my God.” She practically squealed and glanced behind Cooper. “This is that TV series, right? Celebrity Show-Up?”
“Liliana, why on earth are you making such a racket? And who’s at our door on a Sunday?” A small, delicate woman appeared at Liliana’s side. Her hair was silver, her skin wrinkled with time,