Chapter 152 152. Chasing Fireflies
"Don't look at the comments. Just finish the edits."
Lucien's voice cut through my spiral of refreshing my post notifications. Hundreds of comments. Thousands of likes. My follower count climbing by the minute.
"But look at this one." I turned the screen toward him. "She says she's been waiting for me and already pre-ordered all three books."
"That's incredible, Fiera. Now close the app." He took my phone gently and set it face down. "You have ten days until launch, and you haven't done the final crosscheck."
"Now I regret not hiring a professional editor, oh my God."
"You can do this. You can make them better than ready." He kissed my temple. "I'll handle everything else. You handle your trilogy."
The next week and a half was filled with editing, formatting, uploading until finally, Friday came.
"It's live," I whispered, refreshing my website dashboard. "The books are actually live."
Lucien appeared behind my chair, watching the numbers climb. "How many visitors?"
"Five hundred in the first minute." I refreshed again. "A thousand. Two thousand. Oh my God, Lucien."
I kept refreshing and refreshing until Lucien made me leave the statistics and take a short walk to calm my nerves. Over an hour later, we were at fifteen thousand website visits!
"Fuck!" My mind was blown.
He spun my chair around, pulling me up into his arms. "You did that, baby."
Reviews started appearing by late afternoon. Five stars. Detailed breakdowns of favorite scenes. People were already demanding physical copies.
By Sunday, my inbox had exploded. Messages from readers. Interview requests. And one email that made my hands shake.
Thornhill Publishing House. The biggest publisher in NYC. They wanted to meet and discuss a three book deal, including international distribution.
"This can't be real," I said, reading the email for the fifth time.
"They're smart enough to recognize a bestseller when they see one." Lucien read over my shoulder. "
"But what if people are only buying my books because they feel sorry for me? What if the hype dies and I'm just another flash in the pan?"
"What if you're exactly as talented as fifty thousand sales in three days suggests you are?"
I closed the laptop. "I need to think about this."
"What's there to think about?"
"I need to prove I can do this on my own first. No publisher behind me. Just me and my readers. I want to know that I built this myself before I hand it over to someone else."
Lucien studied my face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Then that's what you'll do."
"You're not going to try to convince me to take the deal?"
"Only you get to control the narrative of your own life." He cupped my face. "Why would I tell you to give that control to someone else before you're ready?"
I exhaled. "Thank you for understanding."
"Always. Besides," he grinned, "watching you build that empire on your own is incredibly sexy."
Three weeks later, I stood in front of my closet trying to decide what white to wear to the Ashford all-white dinner party. Lucien had gotten me five dresses to make my pick.
"The one with the open back makes you look like a goddess."
At the Ashford estate, white linens covered long tables set up in the garden. String lights hung from the trees. White flowers overflowed from every surface. It looked like something out of a movie.
"This is beautiful," I breathed, taking in the scene.
"We are getting something like this, right?" Lucien murmured in my ear, his hand settling on my lower back. "A house with a garden like this. Space for kids to run around and get dirty. Trees to climb."
"Of course! How could I ever say no to that? I can already picture our daughter chasing fireflies in a garden like this."
"And our son learning to ride a bike on that path over there, right up until he loses his balance and face-plants into the dirt. Then we'll double over laughing while he tries to shake the mud off."
"Hey!" I slapped his chest lightly. "Don't say that about Lucien Junior."
"Camila!" Maya rushed over, camera around her neck. "You look stunning. Let me get a picture of you two."
We posed together, Lucien's arm around my waist, both of us laughing at something Maya said. She was in her element, capturing candid moments of everyone.
Dinner was chaos in the best way. Silas at the head of the table, beaming with pride. Seraphina beside him, directing serving staff with the grace of someone who'd done this a hundred times. Damon and his girlfriend Jules sitting close, whispering to each other. Mama Cortez holding court at the other end. Rafael and Maya being sickeningly cute. Little Iris bouncing between conversations.
"I have a crush," Iris announced suddenly, her face turning red.
The table went silent for a beat, then erupted.
"On who?" Damon demanded, suddenly the protective older brother.
"His name is Marcus. He's in my class and he's really nice and he shared his crayons with me."
"Crayons," Natasha snorted. "How romantic."
"It is romantic," Iris insisted. "He gave me the good colors."
"The good colors," I repeated, grinning. "That's true love right there."
Seraphina reached for her wine glass and missed, knocking it slightly. A few drops splashed onto the white tablecloth. She grabbed her napkin, flustered, and somehow managed to smear cake icing from her dessert fork across her lips in the process.
"Sera," Silas laughed, leaning over to kiss the icing away.
"Oh my God, get a room!" Damon called out.
"There are like ten rooms in this house," Natasha added. "Pick one."
"You're all terrible children," Seraphina said, but she was laughing, her face pink.
"You two are adorable, don't mind the others," Maya raised her glass toward Silas and Seraphina.
Conversation bounced from topic to topic as wine kept flowing. Publishing deals and modeling contracts and wedding planning and family gossip. Maya kept snapping photos, documenting everything.
"You're building a whole album," I said, watching her adjust her lens.
"Someone has to preserve these memories." She zoomed in on Mama Cortez teaching Jules some dance move. "And you'll thank me when you want to remember this night."
I already knew I'd remember it. The warm breeze. The fairy lights. The sound of my family laughing together. Lucien's hand in mine under the table.
By the time another round of dessert was served, I was pleasantly tipsy. The world had soft edges, everything felt warm and possible.
"You're drunk, Fiera," Lucien murmured, steadying me as I swayed slightly.
"I'm happy drunk. There's a difference."
"There really isn't."
"Can we dance?" I tugged on his hand. "I want to dance."
"There's no music."
"So? We'll make our own music."
He pulled me up, leading me away from the table to a quieter corner of the garden. Held me close as we swayed to nothing but the sound of crickets and distant laughter.
"I love you," I said against his chest. "So much it scares me sometimes."
"I know. I love you too."
"No, like, I really love you. Like if someone tried to take you from me, I'd stab them. Which is concerning because I literally went to prison for stabbing someone, so maybe I have a problem."
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "You don't have a problem. You have passion."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
"That's exactly what we're calling it."
The world tilted slightly but Lucien caught me before I could stumble.
"Alright, Fiera. Time to get you to bed."
"I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine."
"You're perfectly drunk. Come on."
He scooped me up, carrying me toward the house despite my protests. Up the stairs. Down the hall. Into one of the guest rooms that Seraphina kept ready for me.
The bed was soft when he laid me down. He knelt to remove my heels, his fingers gentle on my ankles.
"Your hands are magical," I mumbled.
"You're ridiculous when you're drunk."
"I'm ridiculous all the time. You just notice it more when I'm drunk."
He climbed onto the bed beside me, sitting up against the headboard and pulling me so my head rested in his lap. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my temple, brushing hair away from my face.
"Your cheeks are so red," he murmured, his thumb stroking across my heated skin.
"That's the alcohol."
"That's my beautiful fiancée being perfect."
"I'm not perfect. I'm a mess who went to prison and writes dark romance and sometimes wants to stab people."
"You're my mess." His voice went soft. "My fierce, beautiful, talented mess who survived hell and came out stronger. Who built something incredible from nothing. Who made me want to be better than I ever thought I could be."
"You really mean that?"
"Every word, Fiera. You changed my life. You made me believe in things I'd given up on. Family. Love. Second chances. A future worth fighting for."
"I didn't do anything special. I just loved you."
"That was everything." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "That was the most special thing anyone's ever done for me."
My eyes were getting heavy. The warmth of his lap. The gentle rhythm of his fingers in my hair. The soft cadence of his voice.
"Lucien?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for waiting for me."
"Always, mi amor. Always."
"I'm going to marry you, Lucien Hayes. You are gonna be my husband. And we're gonna have our babies, and build that life you talked about. The house with the garden. The kids chasing fireflies and face-planting into the dirt."
"I'm counting on it."
"Good." My words were slurring now, sleep pulling me under. "Because you're stuck with me. Forever."
"Forever sounds perfect."
I drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat, his hand still stroking my hair, feeling safer and more loved than I ever had in my entire life. This was freedom. This was home. This was everything I'd fought for.
And I was never letting it go.