Page 90 of Bookworm and the Beast
Not this time.
Bonnie was everywhere I looked. In the kitchen, where she used to entertain and charm my entire staff, on the beach, where we’d shared so many walks and secrets.
In the guest room where she’d left behind all of her personal items as well as the clothes and shoes I’d bought her.
In my bed, where I could still smell her on my sheets.
Most especially in the library. I hadn’t even been able to set foot in that room since she’d left three days ago.
I was in my office tonight, working on the fifth version of the ending, hating every word of it. It was like my imagination and creativity had jumped out the tower window and crashed on the jagged rocks below.
I’d been so inspired when Bonnie was here. Now, nothing worked.
Mrs. Potts, who’d returned from New York a few days ago looking younger and happier than I’d ever seen her, had been absolutely right—when I’d opened my heart, the words had started flowing again.
Now… well, my heart was somewhere in Manhattan, and I’d never get it back.
I struck the keys rapidly, writing a short final battle scene where all the major fan-favorite characters died horrible deaths. There was no one left to sit on the Onyx Throne.
Perfect.
“And they all lived miserably ever after. THE END.” I leaned back in my chair and let out a hopeless laugh, covering my face with my hands.
Clearly, I needed a break.
I went downstairs and wandered through the house, which had never felt so empty.
Glancing over at the darkened library entrance, I shuddered and turned to walk in the opposite direction toward the kitchen.
Maybe I’d get a snack. Maybe that would stop the hollow, gnawing feeling inside me.
But I stopped in the middle of the foyer and just stood there, my head dropping so I stared at the pristine marble floor. I breathed in, breathed out.
I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t need food. I needed… her.
Reversing course, I walked to the library and flipped on the light switch. Looking around the room, I could almost convince myself Bonnie had just gone out for a walk and would be right back.
A book lay open on the chair nearest the fireplace—which was cold and dark, the perfect metaphor for my life the past few days.
On the desk lay the notebook she’d been writing in before I’d returned her laptop. It was there, too, untouched since I’d used it to show her the pirated chapters and driven her from my life.
I should send it to her.
No doubt she needed the computer for work. The notebook, too. She’d used it to write the article about our interview. Had she had a chance to send it in yet?
I went to the laptop and tapped the keyboard, waking it from sleep. There was no password protection screen.
How like her.Her life was an open book—had been since day one. I was the one with all the skeletons in my closet. I was also the world’s biggest idiot.
I felt even worse when I checked her outgoing emails and saw she’d sent in several book reviews but hadn’t sent in the article yet.
Yep, I had to get her office address and ship this to her today. Her clothes and other things, too.
At that thought, one of the wizards from my Onyx universe reached into my chest and crushed my heart with a spectral hand.
I hated the thought of removing all traces of Bonnie from this house. But how could I live with the constant reminders of what I’d lost?
Maybe I’d sell the place. It was far too big for one person and a handful of staff anyway.
