Epilogue
Four Months Later
“You know, you should really write a book,” Sammy told me as we sat at our usual table for brunch.
“What could I possibly have to write a book about?” I frowned at her. I’d always loved to write as a teenager and often spent my afternoons with my nose in the pages of a novel, but I had never imagined that I could write one.
“You stopped escorting months ago now and you haven’t been able to secure a job to pay the bills,” Sammy pointed out, “Your savings will dry up soon.”
I didn’t need her to tell me that. Not to mention the fact that Mathew and Tate had been on my case about it too.
“So, what good is writing a book to me?” I scowled.
“Well, Tate owns a publishing company, doesn’t he?” Sammy rolled her eyes at me as though I should have already guessed
