‘It’s no biggie, I just hit pay dirt on the edits for this novel and I thought I better get some actual words written. It can’t all be Pinterest boards and aesthetics.’ I drummed my fingers on top of the laptop. That night babysitting after the barbecue had unlocked something and new scenes had flooded me when I woke up at 4am on Sunday morning.
The first day and a half had been a crazy flow of ideas, and when that ended, I started the work of trying to figure out where they fit. Some had, some hadn’t. The bones of the novel ended up being replaced and it was all I could think about.
His dark eyes flicked between my drumming fingers and my face. ‘Why do you always do that?’
‘Hmm…what?’
‘Make out your writing is no big deal.’
‘Do I? No. I don’t do that, do I?’
‘You do to me. Whenever I ask you about it, you make a quip about procrastinating and move on. Apart from when we were talking about your dating break and having kids. What’s the real deal here? What do you need in order to get this done on time?’
‘Oh. Well, my editor is expecting me to send her the revised manuscript tomorrow and…’ I blew out a breath. ‘I might be able to get it done in time. It’s going to need revisions again, but that’s okay, because it’s better now. Or at least, I think it is…’ My brain was a muddle.
Stephen frowned, tugging at the collar of his shirt. ‘You sound like you’re up against it… Where are your family?’
‘What? Who knows, I know we have some similarities to the Weasleys but I don’t have one of those clocks.’
He half laughed but his eyes were sober enough. ‘I just mean, why aren’t they helping you out through this. You could do with someone…er…looking after you while you’re working this intensely.’
‘Who looks after you?’
He sat back. ‘No one. I don’t need looking after.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘I beg to differ.’
‘Look, they would. My mom would be dropping off mac ’n’ cheese every evening and calling me every morning. Then Lucy would come over to pick up my laundry, but of course she’d have to have the baby with her, and I couldn’t ignore the baby. And Tim would call me up and try to give me advice on what to do. Sam would want to look into why my laptop was making such a loud whirring sound… It’s too much. I can’t breathe when they are all trying to help me at once, and the one thing I really, really need is space.’
‘Do you need me to go?’
‘That wasn’t a hint.’ I chewed my lip. I did really. I was barely able to believe he was actually there anyway; I’d spent far too much time on my own, inside my own head with my characters.
‘But you do.’ He gave a short nod. ‘I’ll finish making you coffee and get out of your hair.’
‘I’m sorry, I just—’
‘Noelle, you don’t need to apologise. I’m not offended. I wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone out of my office when I was trying to work.’
When he brought a coffee over, I realised I’d been staring at my notes again and he’d cleared away all the dirty mugs. Stephen stepped over to the window.
‘Who’s that?’
‘Huh?’ I looked over. Crap, I’d left the blind open. How long had it been like that for? ‘Oh, that’s Mr Biggins.’
‘Does he always stare at you like that?’
‘Only when I leave the blind open.’
I watched Stephen glare across the narrow alleyway at my neighbour until Mr Biggins actually retreated. Satisfied, he went back into the kitchen and brought out a sandwich.
‘Oh wow, is that for me?’
‘Uh-huh. Judging by the packets of crisps and chocolate bar wrappers everywhere, I’m guessing you haven’t been eating too well.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s fuel.’
