บท 130: Chapter 130

They stepped through without fanfare—Reggie noticed and waved—and let the party carry on, riotous and wondrous and woven in song.

“So,” Justin said, standing in their hotel room, wearing a wedding dress, all sparkles and happiness, “you like it?”

“Love it. Love you. Got you something.”

“So did I.” Justin dove for a bag, in a flurry of silk and lace and rustling layers. “Um…it’s a work in progress. It doesn’t even have a title yet. But I wanted you to see it first.”

Kris set down his own box. Took the package. Opened it. Stared.

“It’s not finished,” Justin apologized, mostly and visibly out of nerves. “Or not completely. The first draft is. But not any editing. So if you think I shouldn’t keep going with it…I could not, if you’d rather…”

“It’s a romance.” He touched Justin’s manuscript, neatly typed. Lifted it. Felt it in his hands. “You wrote a novel. About a demon. In love with a rock star. Autobiography?”