Page 98 of The Girl I Once Loved

When I gained the courage to send my editor the first few chapters weeks ago of my incomplete manuscript, it was a total leap of faith. I just needed someone who didn’t have any affiliation with my life to give me some objective and unbiased feedback. I never expected such a reaction from her though. She’s been texting me non-stop ever since.

But her reaction wasn’t as nearly as surprising as how quickly I was able to write all the chapters she craved. It felt like the faucet inside me just turned on one day, allowing me to pour out everything I had inside of me, and letting me finally speak my truth. More than Noah’s constant shadowing and attention, writing down our story and seeing the beauty of our budding love unfold has had the capacity to mend the cracks in my heart that I thought would never fully heal.

Even if this book never gets published, I at least have it partly to thank for aiding in my healing process.

“It’s just not enthusiasm, my dear girl. I know a winner when I read it, and this book has all the makings of a best seller,” Eliza explains, knocking the air out of my lungs.

“Do you really think so?” I choke out nervously.

“Darling, when it comes to the business of romance, I never kid. In fact, open your inbox. I think you’ll be very pleased with what I just sent you.”

I sit down on my desk and open my email through my laptop and see the names of the Big Five publishing houses all offering me first dibs for my book with a seven-figure advance to boot.

“But how—”

“How did they get their greedy little hands on your chapters?” Eliza finishes the sentence for me, and I don’t need to see her to hear the mischievous smile in her voice. “I might have sent them your first ten chapters to start a little bidding war.”

“You didn’t?” I squeal ecstatically.

“Oh, but I did,” Eliza retorts smugly, apparently very pleased with herself, even when I explicitly told her that I didn't know if I wanted to publish my book or not. But as I open my email box and see so many offers, I’m kind of happy she disregarded all my foolish concerns. “And now you can have the pick of the litter and go with whomever you feel suits you best. However, having said that, please see that Rosewood Publishing has also put its hat in the race by adding a couple thousand extra to the highest bidder.”

My chest constricts with so much joy, it takes me a moment to reply to her.

“You do know that there is no way I’d ever want my book to be published by anyone else. You could have saved yourself a lot of money by keeping it close to the vest.”

“And what would be the fun in that?” Eliza laughs. “I want those sons of bitches to see I bested them. And besides, this way you’ll get a contract that is deserving of your efforts. You’ve paid more than your dues. It’s time to collect the spoils.”

“I have no words. Thank you, Eliza. Thank you,” I repeat in a loop, feeling euphoric as well as an immense sense of gratitude to her.

“You know how you can thank me? By telling me if the protagonists in your story end up together or not. I swear, if you don’t give them their happily ever after, after everything they went through, I’ll never forgive you. Do tell me? Will they?”

God, I hope so.

“You’ll just have to wait and read it for yourself,” I say instead.

“Fair enough. I’ve been around writers long enough to respect their process and not insist on spoiling the ending. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Skylar. Going back to Thatcher’s Bay was definitely the right move for you.”

“Speaking of which,” I begin to say, while nervously chewing on my bottom lip. “If, for example, I wanted to leave Boston and make Thatcher’s Bay my permanent home, how would that work for you?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, confused.

“Well, if I was to move back here, how would it impact my job at the publishing house?”

“Skylar, my dear, dear girl, I don’t think it's fully sunk in what I just told you. You no longer have a job with Rosewood Publishing. You’re a client now. Your ghostwriting days are over. You can live wherever you want. That’s for you to decide. After we publish this book, I’m sure many will follow. It will be one hit after another. I have my utmost faith in you. I always have.”

Someone pinch me.

I must be dreaming.

“I can one hundred percent guarantee you that you are not.” Eliza laughs, alerting me to the fact that I must have said the last thought in my head out loud. “Now, I’ll leave you to it and fully expect a new chapter by the end of the week. Take care, sweet girl.”

And with that, Eliza hangs up the phone.

I’m in a state of utter shock, and it’s only when I hear the faint sound of Noah’s bike engine driving up that I snap out of it, jumping out of my seat and running downstairs to give him the news.

“No—" I start to yell in utter glee but stop mid-syllable when I open the door to the front porch and realize that Noah isn’t alone.

“Looks like you have a visitor,” Noah utters with a deep-rooted frown as he eyeballs Gael getting out of his rented car.

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