sales tank, honey. You know you can’t release anything, except for a Christmas novella, around the holidays.”
“I know. I just—”
“You are a top contender, and I don’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. I need the final in two weeks.”
I gulp. “Fourteen days?”
“That’s what I said. You got this!”
“I know. It’s just so fast. I still have to get it edited and—”
“I’m here for you. Like I said, I’m making notes. We’ll polish it up and then do a quick edit before submission.”
I take a deep breath in, internally pumping myself up. “I can do this. Two weeks, and you’ll have your story.”
“Amazeballs. I’m so happy for you. Now, go write!”
She laughs as we hang up, and I fall onto my couch. The writing has been flowing so much that I haven’t made my normal plot list of what’s going to happen in each chapter.
I thought I could take a few days to let everything settle in and think about the story, but knowing I need to get it finished right away means I have to abandon my usual methods. I’m not sure what to do next, so I think of the one thing that has helped me this entire time.
Jake.
I walk into the hall and over to his apartment and knock.
“What’s up, Lace?” he says after opening the door with a big smile on his face.
“Do you want to hang out with me today?”
He chuckles at my bluntness, and I inhale, reminding myself to calm down and not be so stressed. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”
I pinch my brows together. “Actually, I have no idea.” Because I don’t. That’s why I’m standing here, looking for ideas. “I haven’t been to any place trendy or exciting in a long time. How about Navy Pier?”
“That’s a tourist trap.”
“I know. Charisse says the same thing. That’s why I’ve never gone.” I look to the side as I try to think of something else.
“Wait, wait, wait. You’ve never been to Navy Pier?” He gives me a dumbfounded expression. “Put on a sweater. We’re going out.”
“Stop. Rewind. I was the one asking you out.”
“Oh. That’s right. By all means.” He opens his arms out wide, inviting me to ask him.
I plaster a big grin on my face. “Put on a sweater, Jake. We’re going out.”
Without a doubt, Navy Pier is Chicago’s top attraction. Stretching into Lake Michigan, the pier houses a bustling array of activities, including rides, games, restaurants, boat tours, and Centennial Wheel, a Ferris wheel standing at one hundred and ninety-six feet.
As we get out of our Uber, we’re welcomed by the U-shaped sign at the foot of the pier. Group tours are all gathered in their meeting locations to the right while families walk in, corralling their kids, and couples leisurely stroll hand in hand.
“Welcome to Navy Pier,” Jake sings out, opening his arms out wide. “What should we do first?”
“I want to ride that!” I point up at the Ferris wheel with its navy-blue gondolas lined with wall-to-wall glass.
He pulls up his wrist to check his watch. “Well, it’s six o’clock, and the sun will be going down in about an hour or so. Why don’t we walk around first and then go to the wheel? The view from up top is pretty cool at night.”
I bounce my shoulders up and down. “I like your style. Lead the way, my good man.”
Holding out my elbow, I offer him to take it. He eyes me curiously and then slides his arm through mine and gives it a tug.
We stroll through the pier. I pull him into one of the shops, and he follows me around as I look at the trinkets. Then, I stand by as he tries on designer sunglasses at another.
Everywhere we go, Jake knows someone. He gets stopped by a friend from high school as we walk past a carousel, and then while standing outside a tropical garden, he talks to a couple he worked with, doing centerpieces for their wedding. We stop and watch a street performer create a painting, using various objects. Jake is enamored with the creation, so we wait until it is complete, and then he praises the man for a few minutes about his craft.
As the wind blows over the pier, I curl my arms around myself and rub my forearms. Jake notices and slings his arm around me, pulling me close and kissing the top of my head.
When we hear music pouring out from the Beer Garden, we