Chapter 23
For Chloe, the next several days seemed to go by faster than an Energizer bunny on a caffeine fix. Her days were filled with rewrites, on top of rewrites, as she claimed her own little table and chair on the outdoor patio at Destiny’s Brew. It was tranquil there, with ocean waves lapping against the sand, flocks of seagulls with their distinctive caw, and the occasional glimpse of dolphins leaping out from the crystal-blue sea as if to offer her a warm hello. Fortune’s Bay was beautiful. Calm. Serene. Possibly the best place on earth.
Parking herself at the coffee shop allowed her and Dylan a chance to hang out whenever he wasn’t busy, and morning chats with the Early Brew Crew kept her in laugh-out-loud stitches. Their antics, stories, energy, and personal regard for one another brought its own tranquility. One that would make anyone appreciate love, life, and friendship. Likewise, Samantha kept her engaged, as she found getting to know one of her dedicated fans to be rewarding, humbling. During the evening hours she spent more time with Dylan—mainly at his place—the two sharing fresh snippets about themselves, their hopes, dreams, even their fears. And nights…well, Chloe stayed with Dylan, holed up in his arms, the most tranquil of spots in Fortune’s Bay thus far—no sex, just a special brew of sleep and swoon-worthy make-out sessions that made her body sizzle. Did she want more?Oh,yes. Howbeit, more than anything, she wanted to bask inthesesugar-sweet moments. Giving in to the passion radiating between them—how her flesh tingled when his lips trailed down her neck—would be too great a risk, one she simply wasn’t ready to take. The lackluster experience with Walter left her semi-broken, reserved, cautious.
“I hate that you’re leaving in less than eight hours.” Dylan nibbled on her ear, kissed the nape of her neck as he held her. It was the kind of stuff dreams were made of—every hour, minute, second with him.
Chloe breathed in a sigh, squeezed her eyes shut. “I know, me too. But I really need to do this.”
This, was hop on a plane back home to San Francisco, meet with Libby, and deliver the breaking news: she didn’t comply with the publisher’s outrageous demand to heat things up in her manuscript. And why would she? The story written was, in her opinion, the best of all ten—heartfelt, real.
The next morning,Dylan loaded the trunk of Chloe’s rented Prius with the two suitcases that accompanied her to Fortune’s Bay. She could tell he was sad about her departure; not by the way he appeared, because as best she could, Chloe avoided even a tiny glimpse of his face. But she heard the sadness in his voice, the cracked spoken word, “Goodbye,” through anI never want to let you goembrace. The kind that lingers on and on until the demands of the time crunch she had left to catch that plane, pulled them apart.
Hand in hand, he escorted Chloe to the driver’s side door, opened it, then lifted her chin, forcing their gazes to lock. “Promise to text me when you land?”
She saw the welled-up emotion in his heady dark-browns, then flicked her gaze heavenward, forcing back tears.Do. Not. Cry.“Promise,” Chloe murmured, as she reached into her purse and, pulled out a thick packet of papers bound together by a black binder clip. “This is for you, Dylan. Promise me you won’t begin to read it until you know my plane has already taken off.”
His expression softened. “Is this a copy of your manuscript?”
She nodded, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’ll take you a few days to get through it, but you have to call or text me when you’ve read it all. Let me know what you think.”
“I’m gonna miss you like crazy, Miss Davenport. I sincerely hope you come back here…come back to me.” He kissed her, long and sweet.
“Me too, Dylan Hawke. Me too.”
Ladies and gentlemen,we’d like to welcome you aboard flight 2367 to San Francisco, California…
The inflight announcement induced an anxiety-packed pitter-patter of Chloe’s heart. Saying goodbye to Dylan brought an uneasy sense of regret. And as the Boeing 747 took flight, stored-up tears, like a mudslide of mascara, trickled down her cheeks.
It would be over four hours later, when the plane’s wheels touched the runway at San Francisco International Airport. Chloe managed to sleep the entire flight, shutting out all thoughts of Dylan, Samantha and Liam, The Early Brew Crew, and all of Fortune’s Bay.
I want to go back.Of course she wanted to go back, yet as discussed with Dylan over the past few days, Chloe needed time to think about what her next steps in life would be. What direction she wanted to take her writing career, since all she’d known was safety under the umbrella of her publisher. She appreciated that Dylan didn’t push, giving her space to figure it all out. God, was he something. A gift from above.
After retrieving her suitcases from Baggage Claim, Chloe caught an Uber straight to Libby’s downtown office. The sooner she got their meeting over with, the better.
“You didn’t go home first?” Libby scanned over the two suitcases Chloe wheeled into her office when she finally arrived.
“No, I came right over.” Chloe spilled into the oversized seat in front of Libby’s mahogany-colored desk, blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, then rested her elbow on the arm of the chair.
Libby pulled her dark-rimmed, colored eyeglasses off, sank the tip of the glasses’ temple between her teeth. “You know you could have emailed me the manuscript. Why you insisted on handing it to me in person is beyond me.”
“What I have to say, needs to be said in person. You know how sensitive subject matters are best discussed face to face?” She sat up straight in her seat, mouth drawn up in a hard line.
“Sensitive subject matter?” Libby’s brows knitted.
Removing the manuscript from out of her purse, hands slightly shaking, Chloe set it on Libby’s desk.Insert the new and improved risk-taking Chloe Davenport, please.“Here it is, Lovestruck in Fortune’s Bay, all shiny and new. However, there is something missing.”
“Oh?”
Chloe calmly explained she could not—would not—add anythingextrato her story, because it simply didn’t fit. “I’m sorry, Libby, but I don’t believe the results of that so-called poll, and besides all of that, I had to stay true to myself. When you read it, I think you’ll agree, it doesn’t need it.”
Chloe observed the expression—the blatant narrowing of her wide-set eyes—of the woman who was at one time, a close friend. She was beautiful, same small-framed build as her, only taller, a face with the high cheekbones meant for magazine covers. “JBM may not like this, but I’ll give it a read through, tell you what I think. However, I will say this, if you cannot kick the heat level up a notch or two going forward, they likely won’t sign you on for another deal.”
It should have made her blood boil, yet instead, the declaration was music to Chloe’s ears, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “That’s fine, really. I have other plans.” Still-yet-to-be-determined plans, is what she left out.
Libby agreed to get in touch within the next few days, after she’d read the manuscript, to let her know of any necessary revisions. “I’ll have the car service drive you home.”
“Great, and thanks so much for everything,” Chloe said, hugging Libby before she stepped out, suitcases in tow. She knew in her gut, this was goodbye.
