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I’m faithfully sitting at a corner table sipping a latte when Sarah bustles in, buys an overpriced seltzer water, and sits down across from me like she means business.
“Is he not supportive of your fiction writing?” Sarah demands. “Is that why you’ve stopped working on your book?”
“What? No!” I say. “He’s plenty supportive. He was the one who gave me the courage to turn down that writing job. It’s just...I don’t know. I haven’t been in the mood to write.” I look down at my latte, smiling to myself as I think of last night.
It was my turn to pick the movie we watched, and so we’d ended up watching one of those cheesy Home Sweet Home Entertainment romcoms. The ones with super predictable plots about overworked women who go back to their hometown and fall in love with a hunky farmer, which of course causes them to break up with their rich businessmen boyfriends back in the city.
Luke wasn’t a fan. He kept pointing out that the shareholder meeting scene wasn’t accurate. Then he argued that the whole movie could be improved by adding sex scenes. I’d told him he was wrong. The next thing I knew, Luke was scooping me up and carrying me to orchestrate a sex scene of our own.
“Hey. Earth to Hazel.” Sarah waves a hand in front of my face.
I blush. “Sorry. It’s just...I’m really happy. For once. What’s so wrong with taking a break from fiction writing and living in the moment for once?”
“Nothing,” Sarah says, “if the thing that’s making you happy is real.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “Has Luke said that he cares for you, the way you care about him? That this isn’t just some extended hook up?”
I shake my head. “That’s not fair. Luke doesn’t talk about his feelings. But I can tell he cares.”
Sarah studies me, worry etched on her brow.
“I promise, he’s shown me that this means something to him.” I think of the way he hugged me after I showed him the first chapter of my book. The way he listens when I talk. The way he physically gravitates to me as soon as he gets home from work, even if it’s just to sit next to me on the couch while I read and rest his eyes until I get to a stopping point.
Hell, when I told him a story about a brief STD scare, I’d had a few years ago with a guy I dated, Luke went out and got tested the next day, just because he didn’t want me to worry. Of course, as an added bonus, since then we’d been able to start enjoying sex without worrying about a condom since I’m on the pill.
But I can’t tell Sarah any of that. It’s private, between me and Luke.
Sarah blows out a sigh. “Look, I know Luke’s a great guy. And I want you to be happy. But be careful, ok? I don’t want you to end up with a broken heart.” She thinks about it. “Even if getting a broken heart would probably lead to agreatnovel.”
I throw a paper napkin at her.
She grins, then turns serious again. “Promise to be careful, Hazel.”
I look down at my latte. “I promise.”
But the truth is, I think it might already be too late. The last thing I feel around Luke is careful.
* * *
That night after dinner,instead of joining Luke on the couch to watch a movie, I tell him I need to go work on my novel. For a half-second he’s disappointed, but he covers it up quickly and says something encouraging.
Sarah’s wrong, and I’m going to prove it. I could write this novel if I wanted to. Falling for Luke has nothing to do with it.
Two hours later, I’ve started and deleted half a dozen opening paragraphs. I’ve been working through my “story ideas” folder, but every time I start to flesh one of them out, I think of all the rejection letters my last book got.
I think of all the reasons someone will rejectthisbook.
Before I know it, I’ve deleted the whole paragraph and I’m searching for yet another idea.
I hear a gentle knock on the door.
“Come in,” I call.
Luke saunters in and sets a mug of tea down on my desk.
It’s the big, sky blue one I normally use when I’m working on his autobiography. And he’s used the decaf chai tea I like to drink at night when we’re watching a movie.
