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“Then you should’ve paid for it,” I yell over my shoulder.
He catches up too damn easily. “You’re more like a grumpy cloud lately.”
“Because I keep having to deal with you on top of everything else going on,” I huff.
The speed we’re walking is wearing on me. Even though Knox is at least six inches taller than me, and not struggling in the slightest, I don’t want to give him the decency of a nice amble back to our building. So my breathing comes harder as I push myself faster, and I do my best to ignorehim.
I cross the streets when I shouldn’t, darting between oncoming cars, and all the while his chuckle follows me. We almost get hit a time or two. I mean, I wish they would take Knox out.
That would solve all of my problems.
I’m sweating by the time I get to my building. The doorman hefts open the glass-and-metal door upon my arrival.
“Ms. McGovern. Mr. Whiteshaw,” he greets.
Make thatourarrival.
“Jerry,” Knox calls cheerfully. “Did Aurora here ever mention that we’re married?”
I stop and whirl around. Without thinking, I chuck his fancy, expensivecold brewat him. The cup hits him dead center of his chest, opening and exploding across his shirt. It goes everywhere. The floor, the doorway.
“Sorry, Jerry,” I choke out.
Knox just gapes at me.
So I do the rational thing—I turn and flee.
9
AURORA
Isit at my typewriter and flex my fingers.
Load in the paper.
The pink is too shiny, too new. I scratch at it, but the lacquer it’s covered in is too strong. My nails are no match for it, and it remains unblemished.
What I need to do is write something besides that chapter about Knox. I mean, it wasn’t even really about him—it was about me. Me being sick. Me losing my dreams. And him, what, picking up the pieces? Beingnice?
No.
No, no, no.
We’re not going to remember Knox as nice. We’re not going to remember him as anything but an asshole who’s getting in the way of me marrying Joel.
One of my side characters is mentioned quite frequently on social media. Readers are clamoring for his story, but I’ve got nothing. I’vehadnothing since… well, six months ago? Since I met Joel?
That’s a coincidence.
It’s not like being happy sucked away my creativity.
I type the character’s name, moving a little too fast. Two of the letters come down at once and get jammed.
“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” I growl.
I fix it and lean back, covering my eyes.
Joel’s going to be here soon. In fact, just as I’m thinking that, there’s a knock at the door. I push back from the desk, absolutely grateful for the distraction. Before I make it out of the room, I realize I took the ring off.
