I wrote the last chapter on a Sunday morning.
Not because I had planned to. Not because I had sat down with the intention of finishing it that day. I sat down with my coffee and opened the document the way I opened it every morning and the words came in the way that final things come when they have been ready for longer than you have been willing to admit.
I wrote for two hours.
When I finished I sat back and looked at the screen and read the last paragraph once and then closed the laptop and sat with it.
Sixty three chapters.
The whole of it. From the night before the wedding to this morning. Every wrong turn and borrowed name and cup of coffee already poured. Every honest thing said in the dark and every tomorrow that became the next day and every moment of choosing each other clear
