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Am I going crazy? Is this because of haywire hormones? Or is there, perhaps, more to it? I banish these thoughts. I’ve had an adult conversation with the brothers. They really opened up to me about everything, including their trauma and their past. I can tell that they’ve brought me into their lives in a way they’ve never done with anybody else.
I’m grateful. I really am, but…
I’m in the living room, working on the third act of the book. Elena sent me several reminders telling me I need to send it in by today, since I’ve already shot my deadline by two weeks.
I feel like I can barely breathe as I sit in my chair, my laptop perched precariously on my thighs. I keep peeking up at Artie, who’s perched on the edge of the couch, watching me with a curious expression on his face.
My fingers tremble as I hover over the final page of my book—the one I’m finally ready to send off to my editor. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly petrified.
Artie must notice my hesitation, because he leans forward and takes my hands in his. “Susan, look at me,” he whispers gently, and I turn my gaze away from the laptop screen and meet his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly. “I know you’re almost done with your book, so what’s scaring you?”
I shake my head, not sure if I can explain it. Artie tightens his grip on my hands. “It’s okay, Susan. You can tell me.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t feel brave enough to send it off,” I admit in a small voice. “There are so many things that could go wrong.”
Artie smiles, his eyes softening. “I’m sure it’s great, but if you want eyes on it before you send it off, I’m happy to read it. Ollie also mentioned that he was interested in finding out what happens to your lumberjack at the end.”
“Is that something you would do?” I say. None of my family has ever willingly agreed to read something I wrote, so this is a change.
Artie says. “Yeah, and we’ll be your biggest fans. You should let us read it when you’re finished.”
I’m both surprised and pleased by his interest. “Really? You guys would read it?”
“Of course,” he says with a grin. “We’re your support system, remember?”
“Yes,” I say, getting a little teary-eyed.
Artie takes my hand in his and squeezes it. “We all care for you, Susan. We wanted to show you just how much when we asked you out on that date.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I think it’s pretty evident how we feel about you,” Artie says. He waits for me to acknowledge this, and I nod.
He smiles. Artie is the logical one, so maybe he doesn’t notice that what he’s saying is affecting me so strongly. “We had everything planned. We even consulted each other on exactly what we were supposed to say.”
His words hang in the air, causing a mix of surprise and curiosity to bubble up inside me. The casual way he mentions the confession of feelings catches me off guard, and I feel a twinge of disappointment. Why haven’t they brought it up again?
“Why didn’t any of you mention it after the date fell through?” I ask, my voice conveying my curiosity and a hint of disappointment.
Artie’s gaze falters for a moment, and he sighs softly before responding. “We didn’t want to pressure you or make things awkward. Besides, with the baby now, it doesn’t matter, does it?”
My heart races. What did they want to say? Was it supposed to be a confession? My throat hitches at the thought. I’ve been with them for more than a month now, but at that point it had only been a few weeks. They hadn’t mentioned any of this. Did things really change after the baby? Did I accidentally fuck everything up with the baby?
Instinctively, I clutch my belly. No, I can’t be thinking of it that way. The baby doesn’t deserve it. It deserves all my love and care.
I remind myself that this is the happiest I’ve ever been—with the brothers and this baby. I’ve already named it too, secretly.
“What’s going on in your head?” Artie asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.” I’m just being paranoid. The baby and I are fine.
“I’m sure your book is great. Just send it in.”
“You’re right,” I say with a smile. I can’t delay sending the book any longer. The last thing I need is my publisher dropping me. “I’ll send it.”
I click the “Send” button on my email, officially submitting my manuscript to my editor.
