Remember When 3: The Finale Part 24

The wedding guests spent their time gawking at Trip all evening, despite the warning we put out to the family not to treat him like a sideshow freak. Thank G.o.d for my cousins. They took shifts running interference for all the curious rubberneckers intent on bugging him all night.

Not that I couldn't deal with it or anything. I'm kinda used to it by now. After all, that part of him is just make-believe. The part that's all mine is what's real.

After all that we'd been through-all the laughs and the heartache and the mistakes-the reality was that we were who we were. Not perfect. Just perfect together. More importantly, while the future wasn't mapped out, we at least had the knowledge that we'd always be together through it. The words spoken at our high school graduation came back to me: We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

Whatever it was, I knew it was going to be great.

NOVEMBER 2006.

EPILOGUE.

Trip bought my old apartment building in the village.

The plan is to rent out the other eight units, but keep the entire top floor for ourselves. I'd originally wanted to knock down all the walls on the fourth floor, but Trip wouldn't hear of it. He's making me leave my old apartment exactly as it was when I lived in it. So, I have to content myself with remodeling the other three units on that floor into a penthouse suite instead. I'm not complaining. The plans my father and Jack have drawn up are beautiful. Trip and I spend most of our time in Jersey anyway, but it'll be nice to have a s.p.a.ce in the city to hide out when we're not at the TRU, or when Lisa and Pick or any of our other friends want a place to crash for the night. As with our California home, we plan on doing a lot of entertaining there.

My downstairs neighbor Angelo pa.s.sed away, and his son found three letters addressed to me from way back in ninety-four. Trip had written the wrong apartment number on the envelopes and they'd been sent to Angelo, who never bothered to give them to me. One day during the demolition, Anthony showed up and just handed them over, apologizing and explaining what had happened. Trip put down the sledgehammer and the two of us sat right there on the floor amidst the rubble to read them. I won't bore you with the details contained within those letters-most of what he'd written had been about his daily life out in Los Angeles; auditioning, playing hockey, etc.-but there's a part of that first one I think that's worth sharing: It started off as all the others, telling me about the latest dramas taking place in his seedy apartment building (but hey, it's near the beach), talking about his latest audition (I don't know. I don't think I got the part. Tawny Everett was there doing the readings, though. Right there in the room! She called me "cute". It was so freaking awesome!), and mentioning how he was dropping out of school (It's not why I'm here anyway. How's the new apartment?) But then, a few paragraphs down: It's hard out here. It's lonely. It's fake. I'm thinking of packing it in and coming home.

Will you be there if I do? You've only got this last year of school and I thought maybe we could make some plans. I miss you like crazy and I just want to come home to you.

You're my home, Lay-Lay.

And yeah. He was right. If I had read that back when I was twenty-one, I would've been scared half to death.

But I would have taken him up on his offer. I would have welcomed him back into my life with open arms.

And then where would we be? Would we have torn each other apart, so young and so clueless, or would we have built each other up? Would I be writing? Would Trip really have given up acting? Would he have grown to resent me because he did?

I could ask myself those questions until my head hurt.

Thankfully, I'm not tasked with having to find out the answers. Somewhere in a parallel universe, Trip and I are miserable together. Just not in this one.

Along with the apartment building, Trip bought his old house in Norman from his mother, and she bought a new one out in Malibu to replace it. I never thought in a million years when I was standing in that foyer back in '91 that someday it would be my house. The demons of that first night have been exorcised, triumph over my first memory of the place. It's a beautiful home, and we shared our first kiss right out there in the driveway, confessed our love properly for the first time right there in his old bedroom. It's the good memories my mind keeps alive.

I suppose it helps that we christened every room within the first two weeks, however.

A few days after we'd moved in, Trip replaced the destroyed portrait of his father, hanging it in the same spot in the hallway where it once was. I still work on him from time to time-un.o.btrusively, nowadays-trying to help him heal his conflicted feelings about his old man. We're making progress. But for now, the little things let me see that he's learning to forgive. He doesn't need to say the words.

I set up my office on the third floor, in a room whose window can see the hiking trails out in the woods. Hidden from the trees, underneath the boughs, is our clearing. The place where we'd spent one amazing night in a shabby, turquoise tent; the place where I found out Trip was in love with me. Tucked in a drawer of my desk is a stack of letters and cards he and I had written each other over the years, reunited at last, and tied up with a bow, as if they were a gift. They are. Framed on the wall-in spite of my too-cool boyfriend's protests-is the first letter Trip ever wrote me, his Mind Ramble. He has some reservations about his sappiness being put on display, but I had a promise to keep to myself.

My fiction novel, "The Last Act" is coming out this winter, but my Trip memoir was released a few months ago. It's doing well. Trip was finally able to get on board with Fields as the publisher, once he realized that aside from the random call relayed through my agent, I didn't need to have much contact with the guy. Devin's book-publishing branch had pretty much cornered the market on celebrity tell-alls and was the most logical house to ensure it would be marketed with the proper enthusiasm. His magazine, however, is still spewing out the same old celebrity gossip, and reporting on the latest "news" with their usual brand of cheese. Their cover story last month was about Ella Perez having a love child with Sasquatch or something. I don't know. I don't really pay much attention to those things these days.

Case in point: Don't believe everything you read in the tabloids.

I'm working on my next novel. It's a story about a twenty-six-year-old writer in New York City who's trying to break into a journalism career when her ex-boyfriend suddenly pops back into her life.

I just wonder where all these book ideas could possibly come from.

I've written under some different pen names, but most of the time, I write as L.P. Warren. The P stands for Prudence, which, G.o.d help me, is my middle name. Aside from Clapton and Springsteen, my mom was a pretty big Beatle fan, too. I make a modest living from being a writer, and that, amongst other things, keeps me happy.

I may not be at the top of the New York Times Bestsellers List-yet-but I love what I do, and I'm pretty sure that's more important. No matter what stories I write, however, I kind of hold a special place in my heart for that memoir. I hear some other people do, too.

Actually, you may have heard of it. It's called "Remember When".

"WELCOME ST. NICETIUS CLa.s.s OF '91"

We're at the Meadowbrook Ballroom in New York City's Times Square for our reunion. Our last shindig was originally scheduled for early fall of 2001, but in the weeks after 9/11, a high school get-together didn't seem so important. So, in true St. Norman's fashion, we bucked conventionality and decided to have a fifteenth in order to compensate for that canceled tenth.

Everyone has turned out in full force for the thing, and it's pretty incredible to have the whole gang back together under one roof again.

I see Penny and her husband all the time, being that she still lives in Jersey and is related to Pickford and all. But that hasn't stopped us from hanging out most of the night, boogying with Becca and her husband. He's a really nice guy, but I can't help but be startled by his appearance. He looks an awful lot like Cooper.

Coop had come up for a visit over the summer, but this is the first time I've been in the same room with his wife Suzy since their wedding last year. She's a gorgeous redhead with a pixie cut that I'd never be able to pull off. She's also a very patient woman. Not only did she tough it out waiting on that ring for so many years, but she's smiling through this entire evening, getting along really well with her husband's old crowd.

We're not the easiest bunch to take.

Rymer's already tied one on, and I keep waiting for his inevitable queries to poor Suzy, wondering aloud whether the carpet matches the drapes or something. He's always had a thing for redheads. Then again, he may be a little distracted, as he's been spending the whole night hitting on Margie Caputo. He always said she gave him the best head he's ever had, and I guess he's looking to recreate history.

At least she's got that going for her, because hot d.a.m.n, that chick's a.s.s has gotten fat.

Oh hey! I just realized Lisa owes me ten bucks!

My best friend will probably kill me for this, but...

Speaking of fat... Lisa finally dropped all the baby weight and looks terrific. She says that "High School Reunion" is the best diet she's ever gone on. She thinks we should have one every year.

She also thinks she should play matchmaker to get Heather Ferrante and Mike Sargento back together. Sarge got divorced a few years back and Heather came here alone. She looks fantastic, and I'm pretty sure he's already noticed. Those two haven't left the dance floor all night. I think Lisa's meddling may be thwarted once again, because it looks as though those two are reuniting just fine on their own.

Even still, Lisa has Pick making arrangements for us all to go to a Knicks game this winter as his guests. It should be a blast.

It's good to have old friends.

Speaking of old friends... Trip is currently in cahoots with Miramax to direct his next movie. With all that obsessive attention to detail, I don't foresee any issue with a transition from working in front of the camera to being behind it. I don't think he'll ever give up acting, but for now, this is the avenue he's choosing to pursue. He's really excited about it.

The Jenna/Bert movie got shelved once Trip turned down the role. At first, I thought he was trying to appease me, and I found myself in the unfathomable position of trying to convince him to take the part. If the script was as great as he claimed, I didn't want him to miss out. That show of trust earned me an appreciative grin, his astounded grat.i.tude, and a sound tongue-lashing (the good kind this time). Ultimately, though, the decision to bail on the project was made on his own. He finally realized that the idea of working with his ex-fiancee and The Lizard Perv simply turned his stomach, and didn't want to deal with their pain-in-the-a.s.s personalities over the many months of filming. No script was worth putting up with that.

Slap Shot came out late last fall. It gave good box office, but it wasn't the kind of film to get nominated for a ton of awards. But that's okay. Trip was never in it for the accolades.

Speaking of accolades... I'd finally met Paul Newman at the premiere. When Trip introduced us, Paul kissed my knuckles, gave Trip a wink, and told him, "This one's a keeper."

I almost died. It seriously has gone down in the history books as one of the (many) highlights of my life.

Almost anytime Trip and I find ourselves getting into a pointless argument, one of us will remember to defuse the situation with our adopted truce phrase, "What would Paul do?"

It may sound stupid, but it works for us.

Trip's foundation had been doing really well already, but the buzz has really picked up since that CNN interview. When Hurricane Katrina hit, Trip was one of the first celebrities to speak out about how poorly the residents had been treated, and his organization soon partnered with the American Red Cross to aid in the disaster recovery. Not long after, my cousin and my brother got on board, and arranged for ERF to team with Habitat for Humanity to start the rebuild. With Jack and Bruce leading the project, Trip's foundation has been responsible for over twenty new houses in the New Orleans area this past year alone.

The collaborations with such like-minded organizations have been ongoing.

Trip took me with him on a couple visits to Africa. He'd been all over the continent as a teenager during his globetrotting phase, and never forgot the conditions in some of the countries there. We're currently in talks with UNICEF, putting the funds together to build a school in Uganda. I joked and suggested we name it St. Norman's.

Speaking of our alma mater... Our former cla.s.smates have been going a little gaga over him all night. People he'd never spoken a word to back in school are suddenly bringing their spouses over to be introduced to their "old friend Trip". As always, he's been able to handle all the attention with his usual charm.

I took a break from dancing to come and check out all the pictures on the wall. Carolee Simc.o.x chaired the reunion committee, and I guess she and her fellow rah-rahs thought it would be a great idea to blow up a bunch of shots from our yearbook and plaster them all over the reception room. It really was a great idea.

Not.

I'd forgotten how huge our hair really was in the eighties and early nineties. I guess that was the general idea behind hanging all these pictures. It's important to remember history so that we're not doomed to repeat it.

There's one shot in particular that caught my attention, however, and I've been standing here staring at it for a solid five minutes, now. It's a huge poster-sized picture of Trip from Guys and Dolls. He's leaning against a brick wall with his arms crossed against his chest, a fedora dipped precariously over one of his smiling, blue eyes.

G.o.d. I didn't just imagine it. He really was Golden Boy.

Trip sidles up behind me, slips an arm around my waist, and asks against my fleeb, "Having fun yet?"

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face at that, as I feel the length of his body pressed right up against mine from my shoulder to my calves. Yeah. I'd say I was having fun.

Still.

I lean back against him, cross my arms over his. "You're here, aren't you?"

I twist my head and catch him smiling at me. That devastating grin, that melt-me-down-to-my-core-smirk, splitting the beautiful face of this beautiful man.

He's so handsome, and it's still so disarming, even after all these years. And yet, he's always been even more gorgeous on the inside. His heart has always been his most attractive quality.

Either that or his sweet, sweet a.s.s.

I can't wait to get out of here, drag him into our penthouse suite at the TRU, and have him all to myself again.

And again.

There's an electric current running down my length as I turn in his embrace and ask, "Actually, you think there's somewhere around here we can 'go talk'?"

My meaning is not lost on him, and he surprises me with a kiss, right there on the edge of the dance floor, in front of all our old cla.s.smates.

Surprises are good.

I kiss him back, thinking of how far we've come, how many years it took us to get here. I've loved him as both a girl and as a woman. I have both a history and a future with this man. This man I will love forever.

Thank you, G.o.d. Thank you for giving him to me. I owe you one.

Trip pulls back, a mischievous look on his gorgeous mug. "Yeah. We can head out soon. But there's something I need to take care of first."

I can't help but smile, because I've been waiting for this all night.

Even though he's been trying to keep it a secret, he knows that I know he's got a diamond ring in his front pocket, occupying a s.p.a.ce right under his heart.

But what he doesn't know about yet is the baby occupying the s.p.a.ce under mine.

THE END.

Acknowledgements:.

I just... I don't even know what to say, here.

There are way too many people to thank, and too many things to be thankful for.

I'd like to start with you, the readers: You have made this journey one of the most incredible adventures of my life. You've written to tell me how much you've enjoyed this story. You've written to offer praise or encouragement or anger or impatience. You've fallen in love with Trip and Layla right along with me, and I'm as sad as you are right now about having to tell them goodbye. But I know we've left them in a good place. I know you join me in wishing them well. For all your comments, your excitement, your loyalty... I can only offer my heartfelt thanks. Now go pimp the h.e.l.l out of me on Facebook. Lol Next up, I would like to thank Crystal Light Lemon Iced Tea for the caffeine and Tylenol Extra Strength for the inevitable caffeine headache. I would like to thank Sandwiches for keeping me alive during my creative spurts, and Eon Smoke for the nicotine that kept me sane. Special mention goes out to TUMS, and I'd be remiss in my expression of grat.i.tude if I didn't give a super special shout-out to two very dear friends who work so well together, Svedka and Diet Fresca.

But seriously, folks.

I'm a bit hesitant to name the bloggers this time around. Not because they don't deserve the accolades, but because I don't want to forget anyone! Please don't egg my house if I leave your name off this list. I a.s.sure you, I am aware of you, and I am grateful to you.

First and foremost, yet again, I gotta give props to my girls at Totally Booked. Jenny and Gitte are two of the coolest chicks I know, and ones I'm proud to call friends. Sorry for making you cry the other night at dinner, G. But the fact is... You two have changed my life. I b.l.o.o.d.y love the both of you.

Kelly and Joanne at Have Book Will Read. My G.o.d. Those two arranged the most rockin' blog tour Facebook has ever seen, and I'm still in awe that they managed to pull it off. And then, just one short week later, they got to work arranging a cover reveal for RW3. Crazy ladies! I am so happy to have had the chance to hang with you in person in London, and can't wait to do it again. Sorry for keeping you out so late. Not really. ;) A few blogs that deserve special mention:.

If These b.o.o.bs Could Talk, The REAL Housewives of Romance (thanks for the most a.s.stastic teaser pics!), Miss Construed, Gigi's Book Blog, Worth the Read, The Best "Read" Wine Book Blog, Kimberley Faye Reads, I Love YA Fiction, Sugar and Spice, Romantic Reading Escapes: All that sharing hasn't gone unnoticed. Thanks for the cheerleading and pimpin'.

The rest of the blogs from the tour and the cover reveal: Mindy's Book Addiction, Kota's Book Kollection, My Daily Romance, Teen Readers' Diary, Give Me Books, Book Readers Not So Anonymous, Becca Anne's Book Reviews, Stories and Swag, Jesus Freak Reader, Elfie Books, Bookbangerr, Christine's Blog, The Book Bellas, Confessions From Romaholics, Crawling Over the Pages, Christina's Book Reviews, The Boyfriend Bookmark, The (Mis)Adventures of a Twenty-Something Year Old Girl, The Book Enthusiast, Crystal's Many Reviewers, Book Nerds Anonymous, Hook Me Up Book Blog, Jeni's Bookshelf, Reviews, Swag, & More!, Rude Girl Book Blog, The Last Chapter, Winding Stairs Book Blog, Broadway Girl Book Reviews, K & T Book Reviews, Sweets Books, WORD Blog, Cajun Book Lover, Orchard Book Club... Thanks so much for your involvement.

Any other blogs that have kindly read and reviewed my books in the past: Thank you. I still get giddy with each and every green light, every new review.

Super-readers: Kay Miles, Linda Della Volpe, Happy Driggs, and newcomer Kari Matthes. Praise Jesus.

Critique Partner, Stevie Kisner: You always give it to me straight. You make me laugh; you let me vent. You're letting me edit your next book, so clearly you've lost your mind. But I love you much, beeyotch. I still owe you that drink.

Editor, Casey Moore Smith: What to say here? Your flailing red pen slashed through this puppy like the sorcerer's apprentice wielding his magic wand, bringing your specific brand of enchantment-yet again-to one of my stories. I hope you know you have a job for life. Xoxo My high school girlfriends: I'm sitting in my bedroom right now, writing this book instead of being with you at our 'reunion'. I'm thinking I owe you all a slumber party to make up for it. My house, this Sat.u.r.day, seven o'clock? I'll buy the boxes of wine. You bring the Twinkies. Again, special mention to Dana for another beautiful cover.

Thanks to Z for the guy stories. After twenty-five years, I finally got that glimpse into the boys' locker room. And now I need bleach for my eyes.

The rest of my Forever Friends and my entire family: Hugs, kisses, and much thanks.

My sister, Diana: I already dedicated the book to you AND named a character after you. 'Nuff said.