Page 8 of The Last Love Story
I was still in college when I came home upset because another agent had rejected me without even laying eyes on my manuscript. I knew my stories were good, but getting it in front of an agent who thought it had potential wasn’t happening. My dad asked why I couldn’t just publish it myself. I didn’t have an answer.
The next morning, I woke up to find a pile research about how to self-publish and three books about it on the way.
My dad is my fiercest supporter and my best friend. He’s primarily the one who raised me, since he and my mom split when I was young. My mom is the type to wander around the world with a new guy every six months to a year. She’s happy that way. At least, I think she is. There’s no animosity between us, but we’re not close. She’s obsessed with the newest beauty standards and the wellness lifestyle, and that’s not me. Don’t get me wrong, I like taking care of myself, but my mom’s version of that and mine are two different things. Dad always told me to let her live her life and for me to live mine in whatever way felt best.
I see my mom a couple of times a year, and it’s all very relaxed, but she’s more like a random relative than my mom, and I’m okaywith that. It’s better than trying to force a relationship that would never work.
After years of the single life, my dad is dating someone now, and I hope they end up together because I really like her.
Another bite of heavenly banana bread, and I decide not to go down any rabbit holes right now. It’ll only stress me out. When I’m calmer, I can look into it all.
I send my dad a thank you text, and before I can put my phone down, it vibrates in my hand. I can barely contain my slightly chaotic smile when I see a message from Justin.
Justin Ayers: I’m suing you for emotional damage.
Me: I’m surprised it took you this long to message me. After our conversation last night, I was expecting to wake up to a string of messages cursing me out. But instead, I got crickets. I almost wondered if I made you so mad you blocked me. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing…
Justin Ayers: You mock my pain. I ugly cried.
He sends a GIF of Jess Day fromNew Girlugly crying.
Justin Ayers: Live footage of me reading that last night. You ripped my heart out, then did an Irish jig on top of it.
Me: An Irish jig? That’s very specific.
Justin Ayers: Are you enjoying my pain?
Me: What kind of author would I be if I didn’t like the fact that my words elicit such strong emotion?
Justin Ayers: A human one. One with a soul.
I laugh as I take another bite of banana bread.
Me: Hey, my soul hurts when I hurt my characters. I cry along with them. Then I smile when I watch my readers cry.
Justin Ayers: Sadist.
Me: Aw, thanks.
Justin Ayers: Are you having tea with Satan right now?
Me: Nope. That was this morning. Just coffee and some delicious banana bread.
Justin Ayers: Good, I hope you’re comfortable so you can listen to me complain about my emotional devastation for my whole flight.
Me: Where are you headed?
Justin Ayers: New York City for a modeling job.
Me: Book cover?
Justin Ayers: Nope, just an advertising gig. Some kind of cologne I’ll never wear.
Me: Well, if you can’t stop crying about my books, you can pretend it’s just the smell of the cologne.
Justin Ayers: Has anyone ever mentioned you might have psychopathictendencies?
Me: Only my therapist, but once I locked him in the basement, he stopped saying that.
