Page 27 of Secrets That Bind Us
“You’ll be okay, Verity. Whether y’all end up together or not, you’ll be just fine. Trust me.”
I squeeze him. “Let’s go make yournot-boyfriend jealous.”
Chapter Fourteen
Verity
Present Day
I’m… stuck.
I won’t say I have writer’s block, because that’s a curse word. But I’mstuck,and Eli is on his way here to not only go over my manuscript with me, but to check out the book shop that’s now under construction.
It wasn't after a meeting in city hall when I met with every business owner on the block to talk about what was going to happen after I purchased the building. First, I sent out the fire chief for an inspection, then Will and Jay’s company to look for anything that needed fixing– from rewires to leaky faucets to tiles on the floors. Second, I lowered their rent. To say I didn’t need their money was an understatement. But it was also a bad move to say that when they were struggling to stay afloat. If I kept their rents low, it could help Adelaide’s economy by allowing them to pay their employees better wages or even shop in our own town– which would also help my own business. And Zoey’s.
Once Chief Hicks gave the okay, and now that they’re semi-done here with only the basement to finish, Will sent six of his crew to get started on clearing out the spaces of the row building I purchased in town (which was easier when I added an extra fifty grand) to begin getting ready for partial demolition and renovations. When I told the business owners we’d be upgrading space by space, and that their business could remain open with the plan Will wanted to set into motion, they seemed to breathe a little easier.
I hum in disapproval at the screen before me.
I have twelve chapters left to write–maybeten. Between finally moving into the house, registering the kids for school, shopping for back to school supplies and more essentials, plus putting a hand in helping Zoeywith wedding invitations and decorations, my mind is totally and completely elsewhere. Not on the lovers of this slow burn romance, who have just gotten to an inn in the middle of a cold, snowy night after having to walk because their car broke down– and there’s only one bed.
Frustrated, I grunt and pace back and forth in front of my desktop like a prowling animal. Sav and Noah are upstairs sleeping. I should be sleeping, too. I was in bed, eye-mask on and ready to sleep… but the words and scenarios that were bouncing around in my head while we were out and about today were relentless– needing to be written, begging to be let out.
So now, close to one o’clock in the freaking morning, I’m going back and forth, mentally having an argument with myself about what my characters were going to say while staring at a fucking wall. Did I build up the tension right? Was it enough? I groan again in the dim lilac light of my desktop and stare.
When people think being an author is glamorous, they don’t think about this part at all – the part where you stand around, staring at a wall, having an imaginary altercation between your characters, silently agreeing that that isexactlywhat you would say if it were happening in real life and youweren’ta people-pleaser or had surrounded yourself withactualhumans and not more books. Fictional people are easy. Real people are scary.
I groan again, irritated with myself.
And needless to say, the comments on my last book had been… well, not bad… but not great, either. It wasn’t necessarily a flop, but when the “She’s losing her touch” comments started rolling in, for the first time, I wanted to give up. I really wanted to tell Eli that this was it for me.So I disappeared from social media for the time being.
Write what you know. What you feel…
But that’s the thing.
My last book had been a flop because I didn’t know anything anymore. I haven’tfeltanything but numb since Micah died over a year ago. At first, when the cops came and told me they found his car at the bottom of a fucking cliff off the coast of Cape Cod, and that the car was so decimated because it had burst into flames, I horribly felt…free. A freedom I had never experienced before– not even when I left Adelaide behind. We had the funeral, and then I packed us up and took us to Switzerland.
My ex-husband died, and I took my grieving children– a stoic Zoey and Evan– to fuckingSwitzerland. And what did we do in Switzerland? I let them grieve while I drank copious amounts of extremely expensive white wine, and I may have danced in my panties under the full moon to Fleetwood Mac.
And Zoey joined.
Until Evan came out with his eyes covered and told us we were scarring the children. Later that night while everyone was asleep, I snuck back outside, turned on the fire pit and burned the cocktail dress I married him in. Or IthoughtI was the only one awake. Evan joined me and we watched the flames dance in silence until nothing but the zipper was left.
When we came back to the States, I didn’t have my heart in writing anymore. I forced it out. So while the comments were right, it also felt terrible.
Which is why Ihave tomake a comeback.
This bookhas to bemy redemption arc. I worked too hard for this life- sacrificed too much for this life… but the haunting question still looms over me: Did I pour too much of my soul into each book that I’ve lost it?
I face my desktop like it’s my enemy, a worthy adversary with hands on my hips, inhale deeply and sigh, then bend at the waist and try.
“…Shivering, he felt her body begin to relax against his as he draped his arm over her middle and hauled her closer. He hadn’t meant to begin to grow hard against her backside, but now– nude under a flimsy blanket, the dying fire at their feet– he knew the best way to get her warm… but he was afraid, for once, not of touching a woman, but of touching her. Of what it would mean to her. To him…”
I sigh.
Whatwouldit mean to him? And also, writing the spicy scenes always made me feel just a bit uncomfortable. I mean, when was the last time I even had sex? Micah and I were living in separate bedrooms toward the end. Not to mention the dates I went on after our divorce never really caught my attention, or they caused tension after finding out I made way more than them. Dating’s…weird. You try to put yourself out there and the more people you meet, the more you realize staying home is the better option. Nobody can judge you for double-dipping your chips in queso and salsa if you’re alone. So maybe I’d tell Jake and Eli I was going on a date so they’d take the kids, drive home and binge-watch a series I’d already watched to stuff my face in peace.
I hum at the monitor in disapproval.
