Page 32 of Rewrite Our Story

I’m not good or bad. I’m just numb. I’ve felt so many emotions recently that I don’t want to feel anything at all. I hold my tongue and don’t tell him that, though. Rudy is my agent, not my therapist. Although sometimes I may use him as both.

“About as expected,” I comment, running my hand over the spot Cade vacated. Linda’s death hit hard. But so has being back in the presence of the only man I’ve ever loved.

“Whatever you need from me, you just tell me. Your team is here if you need us.”

I’d already turned over all my social media accounts to my publicist before my writing retreat, wanting to focus solely on finishing the manuscript that was so beyond late. Not that I was really active on my accounts even before my last ditch effort to finish this book. I preferred to stay off social media, not wanting to see the posts of people from the past.

When I left Sutten, I told myself I had to really quit it. I couldn’t be half in and half out. That’s why I never returned until now. That included using my socials to keep in touch with people from school.

The biggest thing was that I didn’t want to see anything that had to do with Cade. I didn’t want to know who he was dating, or what he was doing. Pippa didn’t really mention him and neither did Linda. I think they always knew something was off, even though I never quite told them what’d happened between Cade and me.

“Marigold? Are you still there?”

I jump, totally forgetting that I’d been on the phone with Rudy. “Yeah. Sorry, I think the service might be spotty here.”

“Since I’ve got you…” he begins, his words trailing off.

I let out a pent up breath, knowing exactly where he’s going. “I haven’t had time to write anything,” I interrupt.

“Understandable.” I know him well enough to know there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice. I hate it. The last thing I want to do is let down him and the publishing house that took a risk on me.

“Things shouldn’t be so hectic now. I should have more time to write.”

“Do you know how it’s going to end?” he asks.

I chew on my lip. “Maybe,” I lie. When we’d sold the duet to the publishing house, I’d expected a different outcome for the two characters. When I’d plotted and released the first book, I had this vivid plan on how the second book–and the characters’ love story–would end. But now that I’m writing the conclusion to their love story, nothing feels right. I hadn’t quite admitted that to him yet. If it were up to me and if I wasn’t under such immense pressure, I’d scrap the story completely and start all over.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says enthusiastically. “Can’t wait to read it.”

That makes two of us.

Now I just need to write it…

He runs over a few more business things with me before he ends the call. I actually didn’t mind starting the morning doing a bit of work with him. It gives me an excuse to not go downstairs. I don’t know what it’s going to look like seeing Cade. Will he finally acknowledge I’m here and actually forgive me?Unlikely. Will he pretend that he didn’t spend all night clutching me to his body like he was afraid I was going to disappear?Probably.

I’m halfway into putting my hair up when the door is pushed open and a sleepy-eyed Pippa stands in the doorway. It’s clear she hadn’t spent much time getting herself ready. Her hair is braided, but it looks like maybe she’d slept in it from the tendrils that messily spill out of the woven hair.

She stifles a yawn as she crosses my room and belly flops onto the bed. “I think I hibernated last night,” she says, her voice muffled as she speaks against the comforter.

I pull an elastic from my wrist and twist it around the pile of hair on top of my head, forming a messy bun. “That’s good, Pip. You needed to sleep.”

“I don’t think I woke up once.”

“I’m actually shocked you’re up this early. I figured you’d sleep the day away.”

She turns on the bed, catching my eyes through the mirror as I dab some blush onto my cheeks to give myself some form of color. “I thought about it,” she answers sadly.

I turn in my seat, looking her in the eye. “No one would blame you if you did.”

She takes a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions at bay. That’s the thing about Pippa. She’s always had such big emotions, it’s hard for her to hide them. It works out when she’s happy because her happiness is infectious. But when she’s sad, she can’t hide it, no matter how much she wants to. It’s hard not to be upset right along with her.

“I know,” she finally gets out. “But I don’t want to just stay in bed. The way I see it is that I could lie in bed and be sad, or I could be sad and actually be productive. I’m choosing to be productive. At least that way I get out of my head a little.”

“If that’s what you want to do.” I get up and cross the room before plopping down on the bed next to her. I hadn’t got around to making it quite yet, and the side I lie on smells just like Cade. She must be so caught up in her own head that she doesn’t notice.

I grab Pippa’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’m here for whatever you need. If you’re wanting to go into the bakery, how about I join you? I can sit in a corner and write until you need help with something.”

“You don’t have to do that. You can work here if you want.”

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