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And I didn’t mind the company.
And fine, okay. I was tempted by the idea of spending more time with him, too; temptation encouraged by my—totally under control—crush. But most of all, I was running out of time. I had eight more weeks until my deadline and I couldn’t afford wasting them searching for an alternative, affordable accommodation if I was being honest.Realistic. I needed every minute and penny I had, because worse come to worst, if I didn’t hit my deadline and cash in part of my advance, my savings account would suffer.
So I’d stay with Lucas. For a few days. Until the repairs at my apartment were done. Which I was hopeful would be soon.
Returning my gaze to my laptop as it sat in front of me, Ireminded myself that my focus should be on my manuscript, and not on everything else going sideways in my life. Particularly, not on Lucas.
I checked my word count for the day.
One hundred out of my daily goal of two thousand words.
A sad hundred words in three long hours. Half of which were notes for me. Setting the nonexistent scene.
I returned my gaze to the mostly blank page in front of me. My fingers hovered over the keys and I… I closed my eyes, tried to summon something, anything, and nothing solidified. Fear sprouted. Spread. Settled right in the middle of my chest. Like a stone, heavy and solid. And just like it always happened, that familiar urge to scream rose.
And once more, I suppressed it.
Because I was Rosie. Keeping it together was my thing. I planned, rationalized, took a deep breath, and adjusted without losing my shit. I was the reliable friend and daughter.
When I’d written my first—and only other—book, everything had just… come to me. It had been like opening a valve and releasing something that had been locked inside, waiting to be let out. The yearning to be loved, fiercely. The wonder of becoming someone else’s world. The joy of finding that person—that one person—that… fits. Someone who isn’t necessarily perfect, because nobody really is, but someone who is perfect foryou.
The time-traveling spin had been just for fun, because I’d always had a soft spot for a lost, fish-out-of-water hero. So I created a man from the past, an officer stuck in the present day, battling his demons and trying to come to terms with a love he thinks he doesn’t deserve. Because he might have been lost, but that never meant he couldn’t be found by someone.Hisperson. Even when all odds are against him and even after being flung forward in time a century or two.
So why couldn’t I—
A loud screech caught my attention.
Lucas?
It couldn’t be. He’d left to explore the city a few hours ago and wasn’t supposed to return until late afternoon.
I walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
An old woman dressed in red dungarees stood in front of her door across the hall, her hands on her hips. A loveseat seemed only halfway inside her apartment.
I stepped into the hallway and ventured a “Hi there! Do you need help with that?”
No reaction or acknowledgment. The woman was busy pulling at one of the arms of the mustard-colored leather loveseat, which was lodged into the doorframe.
“Hello?” I said a little louder, taking a step forward. “Can I help you moving that?”
Still oblivious to my presence, the woman—who must have been somewhere in her seventies from the mane of gray hair and crooked posture—shoved the piece of furniture forcefully. And when it didn’t move, she took a couple of staggering steps back.
Closing the distance between us quickly, I gripped one of the arms of the loveseat.
Her gaze finally zeroed in on me, her brows shooting up her wrinkled forehead. She screeched, “Oh, for the love of all that is holy!” A hand patted her chest. “You scared the bejesus out of me, girl!”
I gave her my friendliest smile. “I’m so sorry, I tried to get your attention a couple of times, but you must have somehow missed me.”
Her eyes narrowed.
My smile fell. “I’m Rosie.” I waited for her to introduce herself, but she didn’t. “It looks like you’re struggling with this, and I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
The woman’s eyes swiped up and down my body very slowly. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if I can help you?” I frowned. Her gaze settled on my arms. “I’m stronger than I look?”
For whatever reason, I formulated that as a question.
