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You don’t have to do this, Finn. You can just go and sit down with Tammy, have a drink, and that’ll be a totally fine date. No-one wants to hear your crappy writing.

He cleared his throat. He had to do this.

Putting on an open mic night had seemed like such a good idea. A chance for the various Bigs and Littles to entertain each other. And it had gone smoothly so far. A live cartoon sketch session by Billie. A Scottish poetry reading by Isla. And it had been kind of funny to watch a newly-energized Haze do push-ups with BillieandJune sitting on his back.

But now that it was his turn, Finn was starting to curse the fact that he’d ever had the idea to put on this event.

‘Right, can you all hear me OK?’ he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

There was some amused nodding and affirmations around the room.

‘Great. Well. OK. Some of you may not know this, but I do some writing.’

There were groans from Shay and Conor.

‘You kept that quiet,’ Conor said, to laughs from everyone in the room.

‘Thank you for your support, Conor,’ Finn said with a smile, ‘I’ll remember that the next time I’m deciding who’s going to work the late shift at The Den.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Thing is, my whole life, I think I’ve been kind of fighting against myself. For years, I wanted to write the next great Irish novel. Out-Joyce Joyce, so to speak.’ He swallowed. ‘I think I always felt like I had to prove myself. Beintellectual. Honestly, it was kind of exhausting. My whole life, trying to be something I’m not. Getting told by publishers and agents that my writing was good but didn’t have “soul”. I used to think that was bullshit — pardon my French — but I finally get what they meant.’

Finn paused, looking out at the crowd, finally daring to look Tammy in the eye.

‘Tammy, I want to read the start of a new book I’m working on. It’s for you. Inspired by you. You’re an amazing woman, Tammy. You healed my lungs, and you healed my heart.’

Finn watched as Tammy’s cheeks reddened noticeably. She looked happy, though, not completely mortified.

‘I’ve decided to become a…’ he cleared his throat, ‘…romance author.’ There were gasps from around the room. ‘I’m going to write what I know — for once. And I’m not going to worry about publishers or agents or anyone except for my readers. And my Little of course. So, without further ado, here’s the start of my first story. It’s a short DDlg romance calledHer Writer Daddy.’

There was silence for a moment as Finn took out the paper his story was written on. He still couldn’t believe he was really doing this.

But doing it he was.

As calmly as possible, he read out the words on the page:

In the children’s department of Healy’s — the largest bookstore in Coonagh, Ireland — Tabitha Nichols was on the verge of tears.

‘Sorry, madam, this part of the store is for children only,’ the bookstore clerk said to her in a dismissive tone.

‘I’m sorry,’ Tabitha replied, ‘I didn’t know.’ She felt so embarrassed she could barely hold back her emotion. How had she let herself get into this situation?

The thing was, Tabitha was a Little. She’d never grown out of children’s books, or playing with dolls and toys. She didn’t think she ever would. There was more to it than that — she liked to spend time with other Littles, dressing small and playing in Little Space.

Normally, the fact that she was a Little didn’t really affect the rest of her life. But sometimes, when she was feeling really low, she kind of forgot herself and slipped into Little Space without really meaning to. And that had happened today.

She’d received yet another mean Whatsapp message from her cruel uncle, and had decided she couldn’t deal with the real world today. So she’d headed into the bookstore and decided to lose herself in one of her favorite imaginary worlds.

‘Could you move along please?’ the clerk said impatiently.

Just then, another voice sounded out from the back of the room. ‘Leave that sweet young woman alone.’

When Tabitha saw who’d spoken, her jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe it — the strong-jawed, blue-eyed face of Dara O’Toole. What was the famous author doing in Coonagh? And why on earth was he sticking up for her?

Finn somehow managed to get all the way through his three-thousand word story without crumpling into a heap on the floor. When he finished, the applause started straight away. He knew that the writing wasn’t fantastic, and he had a lot to learn, but it was from the heart — and it felt like the crowd appreciated that.

But none of that mattered when he saw Tammy. She was crying — tears of happiness and pride. He stepped off the makeshift stage and went to sit next to her.

‘I’m so proud of you,’ she said, kissing his cheek.

‘Tammy,’ he said, ‘I love you so much. Thank you for everything you’ve given me. Given us.’

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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