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A final tear ran beneath her eye and Mack ran her thumb across her cheek to catch it. “He’s going to be so mad…”
“Yes. He will be. But he’ll understand.” Her mom slid out of bed and pulled the cover over Mack’s legs. She laid her hands on Mack’s shoulders and squeezed. “What did I ever do to deserve such a good kid?”
She scooped her heels off the floor, and left the room.
And Mack breathed out three years’ worth of trapped air.
TWENTY-NINE
MACK’S DRINK SPECIAL: CLOSING CAPPUCCINO
The end.
I can’t believe I did it.
A year of stress and agony shoved behind Mack. A month of brutal rewrites. A mad case of carpal tunnel radiating white lightning pain through her wrist, and one begrudging trip to her mom’s chiropractor. But she did it.
Saying she strayed from the outline was the understatement of the year. The finished product was a one-eighty turn. When her brain flipped and latched on to this new story, the words gushed. This last month was the easiest writing in her career.
She’d have to defend her decision. And she hated admitting it, but with her parents already transferring over a sizeable chunk as part of their repayment plan, she had the luxury of freedom. If the publishing house and editor hated her latest direction, she’d let them rescind the offer and find a new publisher. She believed in herself. She believed in her agent. But mostly, she believed in her book.
She loved her first novel.The Edge of the Shadowwas a dark, windy, joyless ride filled with agonizing turns and cliffs. The book reflected Mack’s desire to chase the impossible.
But this one, newly titledCrooked Roots,elbowed itself into thetop spot. She prayed her fanbase would ride along with her, no matter how much the style departed from her debut.
She stepped outside and saw the Olympic Mountains behind the scattered clouds. Soon enough, snow would cap their tops. She interlaced her fingers, stretched, and pulled in a full breath.
The self-induced isolation was complete. The book was done. Time to remove herself from her “cat cave,” as her dad referred to it. She needed to return as a semi-regular functioning member of society and enjoy a bit of peace before they potentially terminated her contract.
First stop, reconnecting with her girlfriend, whom she’d seriously neglected the past several weeks. Even though Mack slept there most nights, she was so mentally exhausted by the end of the night that she typically crashed upon arrival.
She grabbed her phone and FaceTimed Charlie. The second the red hair and glowing smile popped on the screen, Mack’s shoulders loosened. “Guess what?” Mack stepped back in the room and slid the patio door shut.
“Did you do it? Did you finish?” Charlie’s eyes were wide and expectant as she walked into her office space in the shop. “Let the record show I haven’t contacted you for a horrific seventy-two hours. Three whole miserable days! I ate an entire box of mint Oreos. Although that was the highlight, and I’m not ashamed.”
Mack ran her finger across the screen like she could touch Charlie’s face. One month in, and Mack swore every day she could not love her more.
And every day, she was wrong.
“I’m done!” Another surge of tingles flew through her from saying those words aloud, and she flopped back on the bed.
“Oh my God, yay! How do you feel?”
“Like I gave birth to a thesaurus.” Mack pulled herself up on the bed. “I’m going to send it to Viv after we hang up. Then I hope to God the editor gives me a two-week break before the heavy revising starts.”
“Not a month?”
Mack grinned. “I think I used up any remaining goodwill by getting my two-week extension. I’m not going to push it.”
Charlie leaned against the wall. “I had no idea how much a book had to be edited before it was sent to the universe. I pictured writers sitting down, popping it out, giving it a once-over, and calling it good.”
“Can you imagine? I’d be a millionaire.” Mack rolled over and propped herself up on her side. “Tell me everything I’ve missed in your world this last week.”
“Let’s see. I tried a new gluten-free cookie sample that didn’t suck. I might end up carrying it. Oh! And my linen closet is officially at a Navy SEAL level of organized.”
Charlie’s voice was like smooth, velvety chocolate, layering Mack in goodness. “I might have to see that one to believe it.”
“I’m serious!” Charlie’s mouth twisted. “So, since you’re done, can we do a celebratory dinner?”
