Chapter Text
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Chapter 11
One month later. . .
Betty felt like she had been waiting forever for Jughead to come back to Italy. They had talked and Facetimed each other every single day but she knew, nothing was going to compare to having him home with her.
Home. . .
She blushed to herself as she arranged the last of batch of chocolate chip cookies on a large plate. It was the first time she allowed herself to think about it like that. Jughead had said it first a couple days ago. . . it had been an accident and they hadn’t talked about it afterwards. But she’d been ecstatic about it.
It felt like he was going to stay forever.
She glanced at the clock and untied her apron, she had just enough time to change out of her jeans and into something else before Jughead arrived. She hurried to her room and shimmied into the black turtleneck dress that Isabelle insisted she purchase and black tights. She was zipping up when there was a knock on her bedroom door.
She opened the door and Jughead was standing in the threshold, looking exhausted but happy to see her. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.
“You’re here,” she said. “You’re really here!”
Jughead held onto her tightly. “I dreamed about this day every night while we were gone.”
“Me too,” Betty whispered, she leaned backwards to look at him. “So, did they like the book?”
“They liked both books,” Jughead answered.
“Both books?” Betty repeated. “Jughead, what are you talking about? I only thought there was the one—”
“I wrote something else while I was here,” Jughead told her. “Something they’re really interested in buying. But I told them that I needed to talk to you first.”
“Talk to me first? But why?”
“Because. . . well, I think I have to show you first,” Jughead replied, he released her and put his leather messenger bag down on the floor. He pulled a book out of it and handed it to her.
Betty flipped it over. “The Sweet Dreams Villa.”
“It’s about you,” Jughead explained, standing up.
Betty opened the book and flipped to the first page. She read the dedication aloud, “To E.C, my forever muse. Thank you for the happy ending.”
“It’s up to you,” Jughead said. “If you give me the okay, then they’re going to go ahead and publish it instead of the Natalee Holloway one. If you don’t. . . well, my contract will be fulfilled either way.”
Betty stared at him. “You wrote this about me?”
Jughead nodded. “I came here to write that other novel but when I got here, I couldn’t get you out of my head. Every time I sat down at my laptop, the words just poured out. Before I knew it, I had this. Nancy. . . my agent, she loved it. I sent her portions of it every so often and she couldn’t get enough of it. She thinks it’s better than anything Nicholas Sparks has ever written. When I met with her while I was in New York, I could practically see the dollar signs in her eyes.”
“I am going to say yes,” Betty replied. “Yes, they can publish it because I know it’s going to be excellent. But I was wondering if I could read it first. . . before you let them know what my decision is.”
Jughead nodded. “Of course! We have an agreement, they won’t do anything until I tell them to. What I say goes right now and they understand that.”
Betty leaned in and kissed him. “But no more talk shop for now, we can discuss it later. Right now I just want to take this moment in.”
“Taking in moments. Are you Anne Shirley now?” Jughead teased.
“Maybe just a little,” Betty answered, beaming at him, sighing. “I am so happy you’re here right now. Are you hungry? I made dinner.”
“Betty, is that even a question? Of course I’m hungry!” Jughead replied. “What are we having to eat?”
“A celebration dinner, roast chickens and fingerling potatoes with peas and a garden salad,” Betty told him as she caught his hand in her’s.
“Do you mind if I get cleaned up a little before we eat? I feel a little dirty from the plane ride,” Jughead said.
“Of course! Go right ahead, there’s still going to be a little while before it’s ready!” Betty replied. “Make yourself right at home! Where’s your stuff? I’ll go and get it for you.”
“I left it in the hallway,” Jughead answered. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”
Betty kissed him again. “Wait here!”
She returned a few seconds later with all his suitcases.
Jughead took them from her. “Thank you!”
“You know until we can hire some decent help around here, you’ll probably have to carry a lot of luggage to people’s bedrooms,” Betty told him. “If you’re going to be staying here then you’re going to have to pull your weight and help me out.”
“I was already planning on it,” Jughead promised.
“There’s another condition,” Betty added.
“Another one?” Jughead put his arms around her again and sighed. “Okay, what is it?”
“Well, it’s not really a condition. It’s more of. . . well, you only have to do it if you want to. . .”
“What?” Jughead asked when she hesitated. “What is it?”
“I was wondering. . . sincewe’dbelivingtogether, ifyouwantedto sharearoomwithme!” Betty said in one breath.
Jughead laughed. “What? What did you say, Betts?”
Betty huffed. “Ugh, you’d think I’d be better at this. I’m a grown woman.”
“I think it’s cute!” Jughead assured her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Now, what was it that you wanted to ask me?”
“Just if you wanted to share a room with me,” Betty finally said. “My room with me. If you’re not ready for it—”
Jughead laughed again and shut her up with a kiss. “Betty, I’d love to share a room with you. I just assumed we were going to.”
“Well, you shouldn’t assume things. . .” Betty said shyly, ducking out of his arms. “Go on and get cleaned up. I’m going to wait in the kitchen for you. There’s chocolate chip cookies and salted caramel gelato for dessert.”
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Betty hummed to herself as she went back into the kitchen and checked on her dinner. The chicken skin was golden brown and the potatoes were almost cooked to crisp perfection. She’d give it a few more minutes before taking it out.
She got the bottle of wine from the fridge and brought it out to the dining room. She lit the candles, she wanted everything to be perfect for his first night back. She dimmed the lights, flipped the music on and smiled, standing back to admire her work.
“Is dinner ready?” Jughead called. “I’m starving!”
“Just about!” Betty called back, she smiled at him when he joined her. He was dressed in a navy blue sweater and khakis. “You didn’t have to dress up, you know. Not after you had such a long day and everything.”
“Yeah but you look so nice,” Jughead replied. “I thought I should return the favor.”
“Thank you,” Betty whispered.
“It’s just a sweater and pants,” Jughead answered.
“No. Thank you for everything,” Betty replied. “For telling me that you love me, for writing the book about me. For coming here in the first place. . . for coming back. I had imagined a life for myself without you in it and now, now I don’t even want to know what that life looks like anymore.”
Jughead wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Me either,” he agreed. “Me either. From now on, let’s just picture what our life together will look like.”
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The Diary - November 22nd
“I am completely and incandescently happy.”
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The End
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