Page 37 of Wicked Fantasies

She wasn’t the same broken girl she’d been when she crawled in and decided to call the place home ten years ago. She had money in the bank, a successful career, and options—lots of them.

Reaching over, she flicked on her radio, the sound of Gloria Gaynor belting out “I Will Survive” suddenly permeating the room. Singing along, Julia spent the entire afternoon doing all the chores she’d spent a lifetime putting off—cleaning out closets and file cabinets, putting her old life in boxes, making room for the new one.

The doorbell ringing pulled her away from her work just as the sun was setting outside and her hungry stomach was starting to grumble. A quick peek out the peephole revealed, to her surprise, Ross.

Had he read her manuscript? Was that why he was here?

Taking a deep calming breath, she opened the door. She stepped back to watch him walk in with a large pizza and six-pack of beer.

“Welcome home.” He passed her with barely a sideways glance on his way to the kitchen.

Stunned speechless, she watched as he put the beer in the refrigerator and grabbed a couple of plates from the counter. She silently marveled over the fact she had watched him do this very same thing a thousand times and yet even this simple act seemed different, special.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked, kicking herself for the slight quiver in her voice. Cool, Julia.Very cool.

“It’s Thursday, Jules. Pizza night,” he answered as if she were two slices short of an extra large. “Got a supreme to celebrate your return.”

“I know it’s Thursday, but how did you know I was back?”

“I promised your landlady twenty bucks if she called me when you returned. Got the call this afternoon and settled the debt on my way up.”

“My, aren’t we ingenious?” She smiled tentatively, trying to determine his mood.

“I’m not without my resources.” He returned her smile with a faint one of his own. “You look good.”

Julia felt tears clogging her throat at his words. For once, her own words were failing her. Why couldn’t she say aloud all the things she found so easy to write on paper?

He cleared a spot on the dining table, now cluttered with packed boxes. “Getting a jump on spring cleaning?”

“Something like that. I’m surprised to see you here. I thought after you left the cabin?—”

“I made a promise to you,” he said tightly.

“A promise?”

“I promised you that no matter how things ended in the cabin, we would still be friends. So here I am.”

Although the words sounded friendly, the tone was forced and Julia knew she had quite a bit of making up to do to him. She’d hurt him terribly and yet her heart swelled at the knowledge he would swallow his own wounded pride to keep a promise to her.

Just when she thought she couldn’t love him any more, he blindsided her with kindness, when all she truly deserved was his disdain.

“Ross,” she started, but he stopped her.

“I got your book,” he said, his words hitting her like an exploding bomb. A small cowardly part of her had been hoping he hadn’t read yet.

After all, the novel was their story and despite the fact Ross was standing in front of her, she couldn’t imagine he would want to discuss such a painful topic.

Did he want to continue the fight, rehash the arguments, berate her for behaving like such a fool?

Panic rising inside her, she tried to act nonchalant.

“Great,” she replied, her voice tight.

“It was good,” he added casually. “Really good. But, Brown Eyes—” He looked down at her. When had he gotten so close to her and had he really just called her Brown Eyes? “—you forgot to email me the last chapter.”

“Oh.” She fought the impulse to step away from him. Taking another calming breath, she stiffened her spine. “Actually, I haven’t written the last chapter.”

Clearly confused, Ross merely looked at her for a moment. “You never send me an unfinished manuscript.”

---