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Zero out of 2,500 words.
“God, this sucks,” I said into the silent and empty studio apartment.
Because I’d written zero and I’d had to recalculate my daily word goal. Again.
I thought back once again to yesterday’s epic meltdown. To how I’d dumped a crap-load of emotional baloney on Lucas. To how I’d then proceeded to slobber all over his sweatshirt for an indecently large amount of time. And most of all, I thought of Lucas’s calm and careful comfort. Of how he’d stepped in without me asking him to. Without me expecting him to.
And I thought of that hug. A full-body hug. Soothing, healing,intentional—because Lucas hugged like he meant it, like all his focus was on that embrace and that embrace only. A life-altering hug, if something as simple as a hug was ever meant to do that.
All my life, I’ve been the person others relied on. I shared the burden with Dad when my mother walked out on us and left uswith a ten-month-old Olly and a ten-year-old me who had to learn how to grow up fast. I carried the weight alone at times when Dad wasn’t there. I’ve been the rock in the middle of the pond for my friends, that person they could count on for a good cry or honest advice. I’ve taken any role I’ve been needed for, always making sure to be there, to keep a tight grip on any situation or any crisis. Always calm, always in control. That was probably why my job as an engineering consultant had been so… fitting, so natural. I’d been paid to plan projects, to provide my expertise, and to advise in the case of a crisis. And that was probably also why quitting that to do what I really loved—something that could be ruled by emotions—had been so… liberating.
Even if it had led me to this. To the meltdown. To Lucas’s immediate reaction, him lending me his strength. Taking over.
I sighed.
Blinding smile, wide shoulders, mad cooking skills, the superpower to give the best full-body hugs in the world,anda big heart.
Life really was unfair sometimes.
“And here I am,” I muttered under my breath. “Thinking about a man instead of writing.”
Not that it would have changed anything; I still couldn’t write.
Pushing the stool back, I strolled to the window and threw it open, welcoming the chilly October breeze. I leaned on the sill, wondering if I should try to call Lina again. Maybe—
My phone buzzed from the other side of the apartment.
“Freaky,” I murmured.
I stalked back to the kitchen island, picked up my phone, and smiled at the name lighting up the screen.
“BESTIIIIIIIIIE!” a voice I knew well screeched. “Why do I have a million missed calls from you? Do you miss me this badly or did you finally spot Sebastian Stan and I totally missed it? Did you two hit it off? Is he as cute in person? If he’s a jerk, don’t tell me. Don’t ruin Seb for me.”
“Lina.” I let out a half sigh, half laugh. “I was just thinking of you. And it wasn’t a million calls, it was just two.”
“Hmm, I’ll take that as no. Poor Seb. It’s really his loss.”
“Ugh, I’ve missed you.” Walking over to the couch, I let myself plop down on it, turned the speaker volume to the max, and placed the phone on the coffee table. “How is everything,Mrs. Martín-Blackford? How is Peru? Is the honeymoon going as planned?”
“Ah, Rosie, I could get used to this. Do you think they’ll miss us at work if we stay a little longer?” She lowered her voice. “Or forever?”
“Well, considering your husband is the division head of an engineering firm in thriving New York City and you are leader of a team in said division, I’d say… probably?”
“Ugh. I should have stayed a consultant,” she said, even though I knew she didn’t mean it. Lina loved her job. “Or, you know, I should have married someone without responsibilities.”
I opened my mouth to tell her how ridiculous that was, considering those two were hardly able to keep their hands off each other, but before I could get a word out, Aaron’s deep voice was distinguishable in the background.
Then, I heard Lina tell him, “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,amor! I was only joking. I’d marry you one hundred times over.”
Some more muffled words were said in the back and a giggle left my best friend. Based on experience, it was the kind of giggle that usually preceded a kiss, a touch, or a hooded-eyed Lina and Aaron.
A pang of jealousy surged through me. The good kind. The kind of longing that made me wonder if I’d ever find what they had. Ironically, this had been the kind of longing that had pushed me to flirt with the idea of writing all that time ago. To bring to life the kind of love that never seemed to happen for me.
Look at me now, though, one book and a half-assed try at a second one later, and not only did the well of inspiration seem empty but I hadn’t managed to find love, either.
“Rosie?” Lina’s voice brought me back. “I was telling you about myhoneymoon sexletics, now that my husband left to get empanadas peruanas, but you totally spaced out on me.”
“Sorry, sweetie.”
