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“Okay,” she said again.
“I… I’m writing romance books.”
There. I said it.
My heart was in my throat with panic at what she was going to say.
A slow smile crept across her face. “Really?”
I nodded.
“That’s so cool! Can I read it? Are you published? What’s your pen name? Do you have those hot man covers that are so sexy? Is it pirates? I love pirate romance.”
I stared at her and blinked a few times. “You like pirate romance?”
She nodded avidly. “I mean, is there a better example of ravishment than a woman captured by a high seas pirate with the body of a calendar model?”
I burst out laughing. I laughed and laughed until I cried.
“Oh, Lind, I’m sorry. Whatever I said I’m sorry.”
She came around and hugged me.
“I never knew you read romance,” I said, wiping my eyes and sniffling.
“Who doesn’t? Wait. How long have you been doing it?”
“Two years.”
“Two years?” she said, her voice rising. “Belinda Joan Beckett, I’m mad at you. How dare you get on your Huffy bike about me not telling you about MIT and you kept this a secret?”
“Your professor seduced you, Bridget, and stole your notes. There is no comparison.”
“This is huge. Why would you not tell me?”
“I don’t want anyone to think I’m a perv, pretty much. I haven’t told anyone. Except Dex.”
“He knows?” Her eyes widened in surprise about that one.
I nodded.
“That must’ve been hot.”
“I told him about it and then he asked if he could read the story I was working on and I told him no. He didn’t ask again.”
“Speaking of Dex…” she said, using this as a segue to him. “Did you sign the papers?”
It had been a week and I hadn’t touched the documents from his lawyer. Stared, yes. Signed, no. I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“Because… well, because.”
“Because you love him.”
I sighed. “Yeah. And if I sign, then it’s over.”
I looked down, felt miserable all over again.
