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Wouldn’t I?
The silence of the apartment echoed in my ears, mocking me. I was alone now. I was the boss of me, just like I’d always wanted to be.
Yay, me.
I took my phone out and checked for messages, wishing there was someone to talk to. All was quiet. Everyone was carrying on with their lives, just as they should be. Even Cash. It was two hours later in Tennessee, so the lunch rush was probably over. The restaurant would close soon for the break between lunch and dinner service, and someone would be preparing to start the staff’s daily meal together, something Cash had usually told me all about, from an experimental dish that had blown his mind to someone’s specialty dish that he was considering adding to the Henry’s menu.
I wondered how Anna was handling the new week and whether her interviews for more desk help had panned out. I could text her, but I didn’t want her to think I didn’t trust her.
And Magnolia… I knew she wasn’t working at the inn tonight because the Lily Pad was having an artist exhibit week, and she’d planned to stay late for the kickoff mixer after the store closed. She’d been happily up to her eyeballs doing most of the planning for the special event.
When I’d checked the Dragonfly Lake weather earlier, the radar had shown rain, and I wondered if it would clear off enough for people to get out on the lake for a few hours later.
I let out a groan. “You’re making yourself crazy,” I said into the quiet.
It was lunchtime, but my appetite was MIA, so I rolled to my back and opened my email. I skimmed through the junk and the ads, and when I saw an email from Knox, I broke out into a smile. I opened it and read:
You are stinking incredible! I’m blown away by the chapter you wrote. It jostled all sorts of stuff free inside my thick skull. I see what you mean about romance now. And no, I don’t take a single bit of offense at your “presumptuousness.” Quite the opposite, Ms. Head Writer. There’s a reason you are where you are. If you ever want to lower your standards and co-write a book with me, you know where to find me.
I laughed, relieved he’d liked what I’d done.
I’d finally had a chance to read the first chapters of his new book yesterday morning, now that I was no longer in charge of the inn’s day-to-day. Once again, I’d loved his writing style, and I’d been drawn into his hero’s story conundrum from page one. And then an idea had struck me to take a female character who appeared in chapter one and turn her into a heroine. She and a romance storyline could add another layer to the book.
It’d been weeks since I’d written anything on my own projects, of which I’d had two going before the call about my aunt’s passing. I hadn’t had time or energy to be creative, but something about Knox’s project had sparked me. I’d pulled out my laptop, opened a blank document, then debated. I didn’t want to come across like a know-it-all or infringe on Knox’s creation in any way. But the entire day had been looming over me, stretching out with all kinds of unhappy thoughts. I could face that, or I could take a stab at writing a couple pages from the potential heroine’s point of view.
I’d decided to go for it and email it to Knox, emphasizing that it was strictly for fun and thanking him for helping me back into my writing habit after so long away. I also told him if there was anything he wanted to use in the chapter that had poured out of me, to feel free.
I reread his email and laughed again, and then my eyes went back to that last line.
If you ever want to lower your standards and co-write a book with me, you know where to find me.
My grin faded and I jolted upright, swinging my legs around to sit on the edge of the sofa.
I would love to co-write with Knox.
A torrent of story possibilities flooded my mind, just like that—something that hadn’t happened with my solo screenwriting for ages, not even last night when I’d read through one of my works in progress.
I hopped up off the sofa and paced, my mind racing at full tilt, my heart thundering, because all of a sudden, literally in between heartbeats, a different possibility coalesced in my brain.
What if I moved to Dragonfly Lake permanently?
What if I chose to walk away from Stream because my needs had changed without me even noticing?
Tears ran out of my eyes, and I legit didn’t know if they were from fear or sadness or elation or all of the above.
I could live in the cozy, homey cottage at the inn and be there when Anna needed me and be involved with the business more directly and yet not full-time.
I could spend time on the inn’s deck with friends—and at Henry’s and the Rusty Anchor and the Fly by Night and Humble’s.
I could switch my focus from screenwriting to novel writing. I knew a decent amount about indie publishing. If Knox was serious about co-writing, I was all about trying it, and if not, well, I could go solo just fine. It would take a few months to get ramped up, but my living expenses would be almost nothing.
Most importantly, there was a chance I could be with Cash. Maybe he was as miserable as I was and… God, it scared the shit out of me to even think it, but maybe we could have a future.
But what if that wasn’t what he wanted?
My mouth went bone-dry and I tried to swallow. He might not want something long-term. He might not want the downsides of a relationship. He might not end up wanting any of that withme.
But I didn’t know that, and I wanted a future with Cash so badly that my chest ached with it nonstop.
