Author Anonymous_ A True Story - E.K. Blair Page 0,98

took it, bore it for the both of us, and has never judged. I can see how I must’ve hurt him the other night when I demanded what he’s already consistently shown me.

“He does. He loves me and takes care of me,” I respond.

“And he’s worth leaving your family for?”

“There’s no way to answer that.” I run my hand over the top of her belly and let it rest there. “I’ve been searching for certainty, but it doesn’t exist. Every choice we make is out of hope. I hoped I would marry Landon and it would be forever. I hoped I would find success as a writer. I hoped I would never wind up being the person I’ve become. But no matter how much hope I had, never did I have certainty. But I do believe that Alec is worth the risk of putting my hope into.”

“So, you’ve made up your mind?”

A thunk to my cheek startles me, and I pop my head up. Staring at Brooke with wide eyes, my mouth tugs in a warm smile, a smile she mirrors.

“I think she’s trying to knock some sense into you,” she teases.

Emotions blend as a soft laugh breaks through my tears. Life and death, sadness and joy—life is just as confused as I am.

I turn my head back to her belly, splay my hand over the baby girl Brooke has given to me as a goddaughter, and voice through my remaining tears, “I pray to God that you never feel a pain like this. I pray that you don’t rush through life, that you take your time to discover who you truly are before giving yourself to someone else. And I pray that you’re just like your mommy and nothing like me—”

“Tori.” I look to Brooke whose eyes are welled.

I shrug my shoulders, owning what I’ve done. “I’m not a good person. Don’t even try to tell me I am.”

“Yes, you are,” she counters. “You’re in the middle of a shit storm that you created, but you’re still a good person.” She places her hand on top of mine and smirks, adding, “You’re just a good person who makes the worst choices ever.”

Laughter returns. “You’re such a bitch,” I joke.

She cocks her head with pride. “So I’ve been told. Now, go bring me my laptop so I don’t have to roll out of this bed like a two-ton hippo. And you need to get your ratty ass in the shower and pull yourself together. I refuse to let you sit around and mope all day.”

I get out of bed and hand her the computer, taking her orders like a trained monkey because she’s right: I can’t let this situation drown me. I have to keep on moving.

When I get out of the shower, Brooke is voice messaging Erin about making a few social media posts about the release and organizing a giveaway for her to run in conjunction to the posts. The day moves on, and so do I. I do what I can to busy myself in an attempt to dissipate the ever-hovering clouds above. I take my time with my makeup and fix my hair before getting dressed. Brooke sets the computer up for a Podcast interview I have scheduled with one of the bigger blog reviewers out there. Once live, I discuss the book and answer questions that come in real time through Twitter, all the while wearing the mask of deception. I smile and beam as I talk excitedly about the book I couldn’t have cared less about, because all I care about is myself, but I deceive the fans well. If only they knew the person who lives behind Madilyn Kline.

The day goes on with phone calls from my editor and agent, both thrilled about the rankings that have improved from earlier this morning.

“This baby just might secure a spot on the New York Times,” Tabitha says with a tone of relief, and I apologize again for my unprofessionalism.

Facebook messages roll in from bloggers and fans, and I do my best to respond while Brooke talks to a few more authors she’s become close with through book signings. I’m truly lucky to have found a small group of author friends who refuse to get caught up in egos. We stick together, no matter what successes and failures we have. We’re always there to help and support, and today is just another example of our sisterhood.

Publishing is a game of strategy and luck. Some say it’s