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Remi and Colton were deep in conversation, Max had taken a break from the bar to stand next to Zoe, and a couple of Navy midshipman in dress whites were chatting up Sophie. Our girls’ nights were slowly diminishing.
“Everyone’s pairing off,” I said to Brooke.
She glanced around at our friends with a bemused smile on her face. “Not me.”
“Not yet,” I said into my glass.
Brooke shook her head at me. “Drinking is making you melancholy.”
“Not a good combination,” I agreed as I set the empty glass aside and slid off the stool.
“Are you leaving?” Brooke asked, concern lacing her voice.
“I don’t know why I thought I could have a good time with everything going on.” I didn’t like feeling this way. I was usually an upbeat person.
“I’ll go with you,” Brooke offered just as one of the midshipmen edged closer to her.
I smiled. “You don’t have to. Besides, I think someone’s interested in you.”
The man smiled, baring his bright white teeth at Brooke. She looked helplessly at me.
I leaned in to whisper, “You’ve got this. Have fun.”
Brooke could use the distraction with everything going on, and I had no interest in any guy but Ryan.
It had only been a short time, but Ryan had infiltrated my life, made me believe that anything was possible, and now I wasn’t sure what would happen.
With most of my friends busy with their significant others, I slipped out without having to talk to anyone.
It was a cool night, and I dodged couples walking hand in hand on the way home. Jealousy bloomed bigger in my chest.
I’d dared to hope for the impossible—a family. I’d made the mistake of thinking I could be part of Ryan’s.
Then I remembered Brooke’s words that I was jumping to conclusions, so I pushed away the dread and focused on the happy times with Ryan. It couldn’t be over. Not yet.
At home, I opened my laptop and clicked on the open browser for the creative writing course. There was only a few more days before registration closed. I tried to imagine a life without Ryan and Corey, without the shop, and maybe even without Nana. The thought pierced my heart, sending throbbing pain through my chest.
What did I want for myself besides someone to share my life with? I closed my eyes, trying to imagine how I’d fill my time.
My mind drifted to my story ideas. I grabbed the notebook I always kept in my purse, reading through them. I paused on one—a female protagonist who’d save the world. There was magic and demons and a group of friends who stood by her no matter what.
Most fantasy stories seemed to continue through multiple novels. I wasn’t sure I could write a chapter, much less several books, but I’d never know if I didn’t sit down and try.
Turning to a fresh page, I listed the characteristics of the world, then I moved on to characteristics of her friends, and lastly, the protagonist’s background. What if she was an orphan? Her mother left her. She had one overprotective big brother, and his best friend was dark and broody. Was she attracted to him? Was I brave enough to add a romantic element to my story?
Inspired, I toggled the screen on my laptop to wake up the screen and then filled out the registration for the creative writing class. I needed to learn how to write dialogue, how to effectively build a world readers would want to come back to again and again. The list was endless, but in the meantime, I’d draw on what I’d learned from reading similar books.
I needed a problem for the protagonist to solve. It was the one thing that was just out of reach. As I got ready for bed, I hoped it would come to me with time. I loved the main character’s background. It was familiar and, hopefully, would be easy to write since I could relate to it. Now, I needed the perfect hill for her to climb.
Closing my eyes, I sensed the brother’s best friend would always be in the periphery, taunting her, yet when she really needed a boost, he’d help her, too. He’d be an interesting mix, but nothing could happen for several books. I’d loved the idea that the book was a little personal. I was making it mine.
I finally drifted off to sleep, eager for the next page in my life. Even if Ryan left, I’d be okay. I’d survived my mom leaving time and time again, and I’d survive this, too.
ChapterEighteen
RYAN
Iworked at the garage on Saturday. I hoped keeping busy would take my mind off Tiffany and the meeting with my attorney on Monday.
