the middle. We all take a seat as Penelope pours me a drink, handing it to me.
“So, when did you first start writing?” Milène asks.
An instant smile graces my face. It’s rare to meet people who want to talk about my writing unless I’m at a signing event. Finding people who love books, especially romance, as much as I do is a treat any day.
“It was something I dabbled in for a while before I finished my first one. Then, I sat on it for two years before I actually published it.”
“Why?” they both ask in unison.
“It’s a long story.”
Michael’s disdain of my writing was cold and callous; his impact on me left a scar. And yet, for the first time, I don’t have this urge to pretend like that part of my life didn’t exist.
“I let a man convince me I wasn’t good enough.”
“That’s horrible,” Milène says.
Penelope’s mouth opens like she’s catching flies. “What a jerk.”
I agree, “Not all men are willing to let their woman dream.”
My eyes roam to Jake who came back outside, and the words of encouragement he’s given me from the moment he found out I was an author come flooding through me. He’s never faltered in his praise for me, even before he knew I was good at it.
“Those men are assholes.” Jake is serious with his statement as he joins us.
My mouth lifts to the side, as does my heart. “It’s rare a man has the instinct for making women feel appreciated.”
Milène’s eyes sparkle as she looks back and forth between Jake and me. She nudges me in the side. “Well, we’re sure happy you didn’t listen to that jerk.”
“We love reading your stories,” Penelope adds as she raises her glass to cheers me. “Although I might have a hard time with reading the sex scenes in any future books. I might start picturing you and my brother.” She makes a face that has me giggling.
“That’s my cue to leave.” Jake places his hand on my shoulder and brushes the hair to the side before rubbing his thumb and forefinger on my earlobe.
I watch him walk inside the house. When I turn back to the girls, Milène nudges Penelope’s leg with a huge grin on her face.
“Okay, that was pretty cute,” Penelope says.
“Beyond adorable.” Milène points to me. “Just don’t go putting it in one of your books, so I don’t think of my brother when I’m envisioning your hero.”
Little do they know, their brother is the only inspiration I have these days. Without him, I’m at a loss for words. I should tell him he’s my muse. I know he’ll love it. However, if I do, I might break the magic. He’ll stop being himself, and I won’t be able to play the heroine anymore. This fantasy might end, and … well, that’s the scary part.
I don’t want anything to end.
Louis and Bobbi come outside, and I say hello to them for the second time today. A guy with reddish hair and a goatee follows them and takes a seat by Milène. He introduces himself as her husband, Wayne. It reminds me of when Jake stood up for my books to my mother, talking about his sister and her relationship with her husband and how my stories helped her escape the reality of work and chores, bringing her back to what it was like when they first met. I wonder what their story is.
I start small and ask how they met.
“In a plumbing supply store!” she exclaims like it’s the craziest place in the world. “I was working on a residential property, and he was the lead contractor. Our client asked us to meet them to discuss textiles for the house. We got there on time, but the client was late,” Milène explains.
Wayne lovingly looks at her. “I knew she was the woman I was going to marry as soon as she walked in, wearing those four-inch heels,” he says with a grin. “It took her a few dates, but I convinced her.”
“He offered to remodel my bathroom at cost. I was going to give it ten dates or until my new claw-foot tub was in.” Her joke earns her a noogie from her husband.
I laugh. “How did the bathroom come out?”
She sighs. “Five years later, and I’m still waiting for it to be done.”
Wayne laughs. “Five years, two kids. We’ve been busy.”
The easy camaraderie that comes off between the two as they joke about their marriage and one another is endearing.