back into the shelter of trees. People wave at me as I pass by. I’m starting to recognize faces. As I turn on Gage’s street, the familiar scent of jasmine grows stronger. Old man Pierce sits in his rocking chair, a thick cigar sticking from his mouth as he watches me. He probably reinstated my whore status due to getting knocked up by the town bad boy, but he gives me a strange sort of nod as though he’s accepted my presence.
How nice. We’re all becoming friends.
Once I get back inside my in-law, I take one look at the laptop sitting on my bed and I’m overcome with nausea. More than anything, I want to chuck it into the fireplace and watch it burn.
It’s your job. Your six-figure job that you worked so damn hard to get.
I force myself to sit and pry open the top. The flood of emails almost makes me slam it shut. There are at least half a dozen urgent messages, but I can’t bring myself to do it. The idea of shutting myself off to the world and slamming keys on this laptop brings an unexpected wave of misery. I’m tired of meeting quotas—the relentless waves of new things to worry about. Sales. Clients. Ad campaigns.
Now that I’m away from it all, it’s like re-discovering an old part of myself. The part that used to dream about new characters and worlds that I’d bring to life on the page. God, I want that back. It’s funny—Mark knew I cherished a dream to write romance novels, but he never once asked to read my work, but Gage did.
He’s just kidding around. There’s no way he’d actually want to read my stuff.
I glance at the place where I hid the notebook. It’s tucked away under my mattress because I couldn’t shake the paranoia that Gage would burst in here while I was away and read the thing. The desire to write pounds inside my heart. That spot in the bed is like a beacon, calling out to me.
You’re going to get fired. What the hell is wrong with you?
I can’t explain why I can’t muster the energy to answer a single email. Something inside me must have snapped. No more.
The notebook slides into my hands as I lift the edge of the mattress. It’s an old, battered spiral thing. I carried it around with me everywhere in college, scribbling inside it whenever I got inspired. There are so many blank pages. I grab my pen and flip open the yellowed pages, poising the tip at another blank one.
And my cell phone rings.
The theme song from Ghostbusters plays, and I let out a frustrated growl as I snatch it from the nightstand. It’s Mom. What does she want? Crap, she’s probably heard about my breakup with Mark. Oh, God. Here it goes.
I click the green button and hold the phone to the side of my face. “Hi, Mom.”
“Olivia, what is going on?”
“Good afternoon to you, too.”
“You’ve completely lost it this time. Evelyn called to tell me that you broke off the engagement.”
I traced the lines of paper on my lap. “Yes, I did. He’s a cheating bastard.”
“But—honey—he’s Mark Cranbury. Why would you throw a man like him away?”
“Because he cheated on me. Multiple times. I caught him in the act.”
There’s a moment of crackling silence. “All men cheat. You gave him up for that?”
My mouth gapes open.
“Sweetie, I hate to be the first to break this to you, but that’s just a fact of life. Men are not capable of that kind of loyalty. If you want a perfect relationship, you’re going to be alone for a very long time.”
“I refuse to accept that!”
She sighs impatiently. “You’re being very immature.”
“I’m sorry you have an unhappy marriage, but don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t tolerate in a partner.”
“Don’t you dare talk about your father and me as if you understand anything about our marriage. All relationships go through a rough patch. That’s all this is. Don’t throw him away just because you can’t handle it!”
Her voice is nearing hysteria. “I’m pretty sure I’m handling it fine.”
“This is ridiculous,” she snarls. “We could’ve had one of the most powerful families in America as our in-laws. Instead, you decide to drive four hours away and marry some blue-collar hick to spite Mark. I had to hear about that secondhand, too. Thanks.”
Guilt squirms in my stomach. At least she doesn’t know about the pregnancy. “It’s complicated and I really don’t