Page 87 of First Love, Second Draft

Neither did Gracie. Not after she’d worked so hard to build a wall around her heart. Not after she’d promised herself that she’d never go back to being the woman she’d been five years ago. The woman who couldn’t stop hoping, obsessing, pining,beggingGod to make her a mom only to get crushed month after month, year after year, when God wouldn’t answer her prayer.

The day Noah suggested it was time to move on was the day Gracie decided that was the only answer she was going to get.

So she’d moved on. Without Noah. Without God. Without the hope that was slowly killing her.

“Gracie? You still there? What’s the problem with finishing this story?”

“The problem is...” Gracie shook her head. How had this happened? “I think I’m still in love with my husband.”

“Ex-husband.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, it’s not.” Simone’s voice softened into a gentle tone Gracie had never heard from her agent before. “You know the differencebetween a romance and a love story, right? A love story doesn’t guarantee a happily-ever-after ending. Well, right now, Gracie, you’re writing the greatest love story you’ve ever told, and no, a happy ending isn’t guaranteed. But don’t you at least want to see how it plays out, even if there’s only the slightest hope for one?”

Gracie shook her head and sighed. “Fine, Simone. I’ll finish the memoir.”

But nobody, not even Simone, could convince her to start hoping for a happily-ever-after. Some things weren’t worth the risk. Not this late in the game.

And one of those things was her heart.

50

Scotty:Are you awake? Probably not. I just remembered it’s 3AM your time. Okay, never mind. Go back to sleep.

Scotty:Actually, no. Wake up! I have to talk to you!

Scotty:You’re not going to wake up, are you?

Scotty:That’s okay. I’ll just send you a million texts that you can read in the morning.

Scotty:Your memoir! Gracie’s agent sent me some of the chapters. (Probably because I wouldn’t stop texting her until she sent me some of the chapters.) And Noah...

Scotty:I’m blubbering! I’m literally blubbering in bed! I never blubber in bed! Or anywhere! I’m not a blubberer! But that Little League game! Your dad! I feel like I need to call my dad!

Scotty:Okay, I just called him and he yelled at me for calling him in the middle of the night blubbering about baseball. So I’ll go back to blubbering to you. That game! So good! I’m going to keep reading...

Scotty:Uh-oh. Here come the blubbers again! Just read where you wanted to quit baseball and get a job doing HVAC cuz you two were barely making ends meet and you never thought you’d make it out of the minors, but Gracie told you to stick it out one more month and on day 29 you finally got the call to go up to the majors! (Remind me to send Gracie some flowers. I owe her one.)

Scotty:Bummer. I just finished the part about when Gracie flew out to surprise you at one of your away games (and make a baby—I can read between the lines) but you’d just gotten sent down to Triple A again and ended up never seeing each other because you were both stuck in different cities all weekend. I remember that weekend. You were very crabby that weekend. Pretty sure that was the weekend you got ejected from a game.

Scotty:Yep. Reading it now. (How did I not remember that you got ejected on Cowboy Monkey Rodeo Night?)

Scotty:Awww, now I’m reading about how Gracie was ready to quit writing cuz she thought she’d never get published, but you told her to stick it out one more story and that’s the story that turned into her first publishing deal. (Remind me to send her some congratulatory flowers.)

Scotty:Are you awake yet? I ran out of chapters.

Scotty:Noah... I need more chapters.

Scotty:Tell Gracie if she wants any of my flowers then she better wake up and write me some more chapters!

51

Noah needed Gracie to stop writing so many chapters. At the pace she was going, she’d have the memoir finished in no time. He needed her to slow down. Especially since the only thing keeping him in her life right now was this project. An excuse that was growing flimsier by the day.

“Really,” she’d told him at least three times yesterday. “We’re way ahead of the deadline. You can go home, and we can just finish the rest of it over the phone or through recordings.”

Go home to what? Didn’t she know this was his home?

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