She giggled. “Does that mean your stress has been relieved?”

“It does. Unless I think about how the hell you learned to do that.”

“Actually, funny enough, a woman in one of my diaries had been struggling to try to do it, so she bought an instructional video. I bought it too because I was curious.”

I shut my eyes and chuckled. “Those diaries. They’re going to be the death of me, aren’t they?”

EPILOGUE

Stella

8-1/2 months later

Dear Diary,

Tonight Stella fell asleep before me, and I watched her. Every once in a while there was a little twitch at the corner of her lip, and her mouth would curve upward. It didn’t last long, a second or two, but I found it mesmerizing. I hope she was dreaming of me, because I want to make all of her dreams come true—just like she’s made mine.

-Hudson

I clutched my new diary to my chest. Seriously? How did I get so lucky? Hudson and I had moved in together a few months after the public launch of Signature Scent—not that I needed a roommate anymore. For the first time in my life, I could afford my own place in New York City. I could have plunked down a nice deposit on a brownstone of my own, as my business had done better than I could’ve imagined in my wildest dreams. Oprah had even put my little invention on her list of favorite gifts to give this year. We now had a special-edition Valentine’s Day Signature Scent box, and pretty soon a men’s version would be ready to launch. I’d worked long days writing the new algorithms, but now the experienced staff at Rothschild Investments had taken over, and I finally felt like I’d found the work-life balance I’d always wanted.

Hudson Rothschild had made all my dreams come true, and then some. He’d even surprised me with a trip to Greece to celebrate shipping our first product internationally. We’d stayed at the most amazing hotel in Mykonos. When we pulled up, it had looked vaguely familiar. But it took until I walked into our suite to realize why. The hotel he’d booked for us was the one I’d picked out almost a year ago while dream vacation planning in the lobby of his office and waiting to speak to him. He’d remembered from just the quick look he’d had at my screen.

As for my diary-reading hobby…well, I stopped buying them. I was afraid having journals laying around might remind Hudson of difficult memories. A few months back, he’d noticed and asked why I’d stopped. I’d told him I didn’t need to read about other people’s lives anymore, because my love story topped anything anyone else could pen. I hadn’t been lying, of course, but Hudson knew me well. He’d known I missed reading them and probably knew the reason I’d given them up. Which was why he’d surprised me with a diary last week—one he’d secretly kept for months. It was the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. Well, most of the entries were sweet—some were just dirty.

Case in point… I flipped a dozen or so pages back and reread one of my favorites.

Dear Diary,

Today was a particularly hard day—pun unintentional, but damn if it isn’t the truth. My girl has been out on the West Coast for almost a week now. This morning when I woke up, I’d been lying on her pillow. Inhaling her scent made my usual morning wood impossible to deflate on its own. Rather than fight it, I shut my eyes and pulled her pillow from beneath my head to cover my face. Taking deep breaths, I stroked my cock, imagining my tight fist was her beautiful pussy. There was no substitute for the real thing, but I imagined she was sitting on top of me, grinding down hard to take every last inch inside her. She’d throw her head back as she came close, her beautiful tits bouncing up and down and aching to have my mouth on them. I’d wait until after she came and then thrust so deep that some of my cum would still be inside her the next time she had to leave.

-Hudson

Another of my favorites was a few more pages back. It was a story he’d never told me, but it warmed my heart.

Dear Diary,

Today I took Charlie out to breakfast and told her Stella was moving in. After, we were walking home and passed a park. Inside were two little girls, maybe a year younger than her. They were jumping up and down with wide eyes and huge smiles plastered on their faces. I pointed to the girls and said, “What do you think they’re so excited about?” Charlie’s response was, “Maybe their daddy’s girlfriend is moving in, too.”

-Hudson

The man I was currently swooning over walked out to the backyard. I sat in a rocking chair on the deck next to the fire pit, with Hendricks at my feet.

Hudson shook his head. “My faithful friend there seems to forget who his master is.”

I smiled. The sheepdog I’d bought Hudson for Christmas had become my shadow lately. I wasn’t sure why, since all I seemed to do was yell at him for eating my shoes and furniture. He’d taken forever to housetrain, only to take up the lovely new habit of gnawing on thousand-dollar coffee table legs. To be honest, Hendricks was a pain in the ass, for the most part. But seeing the look on Hudson’s face on Christmas morning—when he realized he’d finally gotten the dog he’d wished for as a little boy—made all the chaos worth it.

I now had a copy of the photo Olivia kept framed on her living room mantel on my own nightstand—the one with Hudson blowing out his birthday candles and making a wish for a sheepdog while covering her mouth. And yes, he’d named our dog after the gin that brought us together.

“It’s only because I’m the one who usually feeds him,” I said.

Hudson’s eyes zoomed in on the book in my hands. “Remember our deal—you’re only supposed to read one a day.”

“I know. I was just rereading some of my favorites. I still have my one for today to read.”

“Okay. I’m going to run to the store to pick up a bottle of wine for us to bring to Olivia’s tonight. I’ll take Hendricks to get his walk in. Anything else I should get while I’m out?”

Today was Mason and Olivia’s one-year wedding anniversary, so we were going over to their place for dinner. They’d just moved out of Manhattan and into a house a few blocks away. I wondered if Hudson realized it wasn’t just their anniversary, it was ours, too. One year ago today, I’d sniffed some gin and met the love of my life. Though love wasn’t exactly the feeling I’d had when I’d hopped into the cab to flee the scene that night. I’d gotten him a little gift to commemorate the anniversary of our meeting and figured I’d give it to him later when we got home.

“No, I don’t think we need anything but wine. I baked a cake for dessert already.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Okay. We can watch the sunset before we leave for Olivia’s.”

Hudson started to walk into the house, but he stopped and turned back with a warning finger. “Remember, one entry. No reading ahead.”

“I won’t.”

Hearing his footsteps fall away, I sighed and opened my diary back up. I only had another twenty or so pages left. And the next entry was so damn short. I could probably read the entire book before he got back, and he wouldn’t even know. But instead I’d savor the pages like he wanted me to.