Poppy took a deep breath. "OK." She nodded. But as she scanned the crowd full of expectant faces, she realized something that set her heart sinking in her chest with more than just nerves.
Cooper wasn't here.
She knew he had work, but she'd hoped he would have found a moment to slip away to come support her. This was her last event of the day, and even though she'd forced herself to focus on meeting the readers and giving her all to the event, she'd still been holding out a hope that he would come. Because if he didn't, if he chose not to support her when she was just a few miles up the highway, well . . . whatever was making him pull away from her wouldn't just be solved with a little space.
Could this be over before they'd even begun?
Poppy's heart ached, but she didn't have time to think about it. The interviewer, a local journalist named Eliza, welcomed her with an enthusiastic handshake.
"Don't worry, this will be fun," Eliza reassured her.
"Oh God," Poppy laughed, "do I look that nervous?"
"Maybe a little." Eliza grinned. She had auburn red hair caught back in a flyaway bun, and tortoiseshell glasses. "But I'll go easy, I promise. My first question is just about the social impact of the romance genre and the sociological implications of the fantasy of gender norms."
Poppy gulped.
"Kidding!" Eliza grinned, and Poppy let out her breath in a whoosh. "Seriously, just relax. We'll chat about your writing, and your path to publication, and then open things up to questions. But, beware," she added, guiding Poppy towards the stage. "There's usually one person lurking in every audience who wants to pitch you their unpublished manuscript, so get ready to hear about their alien abduction romance story!"
Luckily, Eliza was right-about the easy and fun part, at least. She was a skilled interviewer, and gently guided Poppy through the panel, peppering her with enthusiastic questions about her characters and experience until Poppy could actually relax and enjoy the conversation. When the time came to open it up to questions, she was surprised to find just how many of the audience were fans of her books and had thoughtful questions about how she'd written her series.
"We have time for just a couple more questions . . ." Eliza said, and Poppy realized that the hour had flown by. "How about you, in the red?"
She pointed to a woman in the front row with her hand waving high in the air. The woman bounced out of her seat and gripped the mic. "Hi, first of all, I'm a big fan," she gushed. "I've read all your books."
"Thank you." Poppy smiled. "I like this question so far."
Everyone laughed. "I was wondering," the woman continued, "the love stories you write are so . . . amazing. They're passionate and loving and everything you could want. Are they based on real relationships you've had? Is that where you get your inspiration? Is there someone special in your life?"
Poppy took a deep breath, ready to roll out her stock answer about love being inspiring in all forms-family, friendships, and more-but then she caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd, and her heart took flight.
Cooper.
He was standing in the back of the room, leaning against the wall. She caught his eyes, and he smiled at her: that heart-stopping, eye-crinkling grin that made her insides flip over and melt.
He came.
"I . . . made it all up," Poppy said, with a flash of honesty. "For the longest time, I didn't really know what it felt like to connect with someone the way I wrote in my books. I saw it around me, every day, and I wanted it so badly for myself. That's what I poured into my books, that hope, the longing-I think we all feel it, every day." She looked around and saw people nodding along, and it gave her the courage to continue. "I wanted to believe, but it wasn't easy. When you're alone, and you're writing about love like that every day . . . well, it felt like a cruel irony, sometimes. I wondered if I would ever find the kind of relationships I was writing about, or if they even existed at all. Whether they'd always just stay confined to the pages of my books, and never be something real to me. But . . . then I did find it."
She met Cooper's eyes again, and felt it all over again. The bond between them, that alchemy of connection and chemistry that seemed to draw her to him, every time. She smiled, hit with a sudden wave of gladness that her winding road had brought her all the way here, to Sweetbriar Cove, and the man she'd almost given up hope of finding.
"So, yes. It's real," she said, turning back to the questioner. "That passion, the feeling like you're not alone, and somebody sees you, all the way to your heart. I'm glad I kept the faith and believed all those years, because the love I've written about before is only just the beginning. I can't wait to share more of my stories with you."