Page 101 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Thirty-Six

We sit at the café, coffees in our hands. The wind whistles outside as the four women all look at me—and my ultra-puffy eyes.

Yes, my pillow wore the brunt of my tears and cheap mascara last night. It was cathartic yet heartbreaking. I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t the end of the adventures of Sam Marshall and me. We will overcome this distance business … somehow.

Sam’s departure is all the girls have wanted to talk about today. From the glowing faces I know they all share in the triumph of Sam’s recovery, but I sense that elation will somehow only add to the emotional low that I know is coming. And I can’t blame it on PMS either, as I’m not due for a couple of weeks.

“I still can’t believe he sang to you like that in front of everyone?” Leonie says, and rubs her hands together with glee. “I mean, that’s like ultimate book boyfriend material.”

“And you had no idea,” Hannah says, shaking her head from side to side.

“Nope. The boss was in on it. The rascals planned the whole thing together.”

“So how is the whole distance thing gonna work?” Janice says as the cold, hard voice of reason.Dependable to the end.

“Um, if it’s okay, can we talk about writing?” I ask, trying to keep my emotions in check.

Leonie reaches across the table and pats the top of my hand. “Yeah, let’s do that. How about you go first?”

Hannah grabs the attention of a nearby waitress and talks to her with her back to me. For someone who doesn’t drink much coffee, I wouldn’t have thought she’d be ordering any more.

I purse my lips and let out a heavy sigh. Taking a sip of my coffee for courage, I look around the table of writers, published authors with years of experience. “I’m stuck. I feel like my characters are cardboard cutouts. I don’t know what they want or how they’re going to get it. I’m just not feeling it. I know I probably need to plan a little more.” I let out a giant sigh. “I’m a fraud,” I finally confess. It feels liberating to get it out in the open.

“Hush up,” Hannah says with a flip of her hand in my direction. “We all start somewhere. And that’s what this group is for: support for writers of all backgrounds.”

“If it’s not working, then write about what you know,” Leonie says with a shrug of one shoulder.

“But that’s my problem. I know shit when it comes to romance.”

“I’m talking about you and Sam,” Leonie says, and looks to Britt.

Britt nods and waves her finger at me. “You should write about the two of you. It’d make a beautiful love story.” Britt looks to Hannah, who’s smiling like the Cheshire cat on opiates.

“It’s complicated, though,” I protest.

Britt clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “Sure, but it’d make a great story.”

Could Britt be right?I pull my notebook from my bag and glance over the basic premise I’ve set out for Brandon and Ally’s story.

A simple relationship between a man and a woman, where all that truly matters is having each other, supporting each other, no matter what. Everything else is noise.

Britt and the girls could be on to something. Sam and I will make things work, no matter the distance. We already grew our love despite his illness. Everything elseisnoise.This could totally be mine and Sam’s story.

“Maybe when you get home tonight, spend a little time thinking about your journey so far, and where you want it to lead,” Britt offers.

My shoulders drop as I puff out air through my nose. “I know I’m gonna sound like a complete whinger here, but most of the time when I sit down to write, even if I have the perfect writing conditions, the moment my fingers touch the laptop it’s like my mind goes blank.”

“When you write what’s in your heart, I think you’ll be surprised how easily the words come,” Leonie says.

A piece of Nutella cheesecake is placed in front of me with a fork and napkin. I look around the group, and Hannah winks, giving me a soft smile. Instead of jumping over the table and crash tackling her with a mammoth hug like I want to, I mouth“thank you”to her and devour a large forkful, letting the rich chocolatey sweetness distract me, if only for a few seconds.

“Just try it,” Leonie says. “If you need a writing buddy, send me a message and I’ll help push you through it. Once you start making milestones with your words, each step will get easier. You’ll gain more confidence.”

I swallow down a mouthful of thick dessert. “God, I hope so.”

“If I’m honest,” Janice says, drawing all eyes to her, “I have a crisis with every book.”

She says it’s like it’s a big secret, but the eye rolls and devilish smirks amongst the others tells me it’s a well-known fact. I kind of get the impression that crises are just a part of her everyday writing life.

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