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The man made no sense. Every word out of his mouth assured me he would be happy the sooner I was out of his hair. Every action said the opposite.
Nilla had joined us for the car ride to the airport the following morning and said approximately zero words to me.
“You said you booked the entire cabin out,” Sebastian said. “It will be good to have some other creative energy there. Besides, I won’t want to be bothered driving to town to get food or any other annoyance that may arise.”
Nilla looked skeptical. “Right,” she said. “But you had no problem with the solitude when I told you the plan.”
“I’m allowed to change my mind.”
She looked like she wanted to say more but bit her tongue.
“That’s us,” Sebastian said. He shouldered his bag and headed toward where a man was calling for first class to board.
We left Nilla sitting at the gate, her head already bowed as she tapped out a furious text on one of her phones.
“She’s charming,” I said.
“She exhausts me. Nobody should spend that much energy thinking about work.”
“And you don’t?” I asked. We handed over our tickets and went through the tunnel to the plane.
I’d meant the question as a light tease, but Sebastian went quiet until we reached our seats. “You want the window or aisle?” he asked, taking my bag without asking and setting it in the overhead compartment.
“Aisle. I have a small bladder.” I blushed when I saw the look Sebastian was giving me. “I’d rather not have to crawl over you every fifteen minutes, okay?”
I’d never flown first class and found myself more than a little surprised when the flight attendant asked if we’d like a drink for takeoff. I asked for a water and Sebastian ordered Jack and Coke.
I pulled out my laptop once we’d made it through takeoff, deciding I might as well take advantage of being stuck in one place for nearly seven hours. Maybe I could get a little writing done. I chuckled when I saw Sebastian was doing the same thing beside me.
“Writing buddies,” I said cheerily.
He looked like he was about to glare, but he looked at my laptop instead. “What do you write, anyway?”
“Romantic comedy,” I mumbled. To be completely honest, I felt vulnerable telling him. He was a big fancy international bestselling author. Hearing that I was an aspiring romantic comedy writer probably made him want to roll his eyes. To his credit, though, he just nodded seriously.
“Why romantic comedy?” he asked.
I pursed my lips in thought. I didn’t expect him to care enough to ask. Actually, nobody had ever asked me why I wanted to write it. “Well,” I said, thinking out loud. “I think love is one of the most important things there is. It’s kind of what everything is about, right?”
Instead of answering, he just stared at me like a blank canvas. His silence made me feel like I had to keep talking.
“And if love is the most important thing, then I want to write a story that captures it. To me, love is funny in real life. It’s not serious and boring. It’s full of awkward little moments, bad choices, and lucky coincidences. I think funny books about love celebrate that, and I guess that’s what makes me happy?”
To my surprise, he made a thoughtful sound and nodded. “I’d never thought of it like that.”
“Me either,” I laughed. “Nobody ever asked. What about you? What made you write a book like Embers?”
He looked down. “I wanted people to feel something. There’s power in it. Words on a page stirring emotions up across the world.”
I grinned. “Bullshit.”
He let out a surprised chuckle. “Fine. I just wanted to prove I could do it. I had a story in my chest for as long as I could remember. Everybody said it wasn’t easy, and I wanted to do it for exactly that reason. I wanted to say I’d done it, and I’d done it well. But once I started, I got addicted to the feeling. I was in my element on the page. I felt like I was understanding hidden parts of myself as I saw them leak into the story.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I guess I’ll buy that.”
“Have you published anything?”
“Nothing for money,” I admitted. “I had a phase where I did fan fiction. But I’ve always dreamed of doing more.”
He nodded.
“What about you?” I asked. “I mean, I know you wrote Embers, but is that what the next one is going to be?”
Sebastian considered me. The man was absurdly handsome. It made even the slightest wrinkle of his brow or twist of his lips seem like movie screen perfection. Except in this case, I’d let the movie star sleep with me. I also had his baby slowly growing in my belly.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I considered writing another story in the same universe. A continuation, maybe. But I’m worried I’d only be doing that because I know it's what readers would want.”
