Page 13 of Gina's Fantasy

Since he seemed to have everything under control, Gina pulled out the pad of paper and a pen and began a rough outline of her next story, needing to put the words on paper before she lost her train of thought. She barely noticed when he returned to the truck.

“What are you writing?” he asked as he guided the truck out of the parking lot.

“An idea for a new story,” she answered.

“What’s it about?” he asked, sounding curious.

She stopped writing and looked at him, not sure she should share the gist of this one. Though he had been more than helpful when she reached stumbling blocks on other stories, this was one he might not want to help with, or have written for that matter.

Then she realized she had to tell him. If he did not like it, she would not continue, though what she had in mind would make a story her readers would love. “It’s about us,” she finally said.

“Us, huh? You’re not going to use real names, are you?”

“I never have.”

“What do you mean?”

She met his concerned look with a grin. “I mean, I’ve used friends as characters before and no one knows it’s them I’m writing about. I’ve even used you, or at least parts of you, in stories before. Several stories, in fact. The light’s green.”

Flynn’s eyes widened with shock before he turned his attention back to driving. “I’m not sure what to say to that. I just hope no one recognizes me.”

“Don’t worry, they wouldn’t. And even if anyone did, it’s not like anyone in your world knows that we are more than casual acquaintances. To everyone except you and me, I’m just the lady who delivers those incredible chocolate chip cookies to the station once in a while.”

Her tone grew bitter with each syllable as the need to cry tightened her throat and caused her eyes to fill with tears. Not sure what else to say, Gina turned to stare out the side window, her heart imploding as the reality of their situation finally hit her.

“This isn’t ever going to work, is it?” she whispered several long, tense moments later.

Silence from the other side of the truck answered her. They could not move forward and grow closer to become a real couple unless one of them changed dramatically. While he guarded his privacy like a dog with a new bone in a yard full of competition, she had to stay in the public eye in order to keep her career alive and growing.

Blinking away the sheen of tears from her eyes, Gina saw they were only a couple of miles from her house. All at once, she needed to get away from Flynn. She had to be alone with her pain. “Stop here, please,” she requested, her tone low and tight, and constricted with tears.

Not only did Flynn not speak, he did not stop either. Instead, he drove her home. Once in her driveway, Gina grabbed for her purse and let herself out of the van without a glance in his direction. She could not look at him. It would kill her if she saw relief on his face instead of heart shredding sadness that was multiplying exponentially in her.

Taking a deep breath, she said the only thing she could think of. “Good-bye, Flynn. Be safe and have a good life.”

As she slid the van door closed, she thought she heard him say something but told herself she had to be mistaken. In three years, Flynn had never fought for her, why would now be any different?

She forced herself to keep her head up, back straight, and shoulders back as she crossed the front yard to the front door. As soon as she closed the door, her body slumped with pain as she looked out the window. Flynn’s van sat in the driveway.

He had not raced off as she had expected. Instead, he was staring at the house while talking on the phone. No doubt making another appointment, taking another order, or dealing with someone else’s mini-crisis as he had all afternoon. He hung up a moment later but still did not pull out and leave.

Instead of hanging around to watch him drive away for the last time, Gina walked to the back of the house and into her bedroom. Leaving her shoes at the doorway, she threw herself across the new bed she had bought just the week before with the hope Flynn would someday join her in it on a more regular basis. As the tears began to fall, her stomach hurt so bad that she had to roll to her side and pull her legs to her chest to try to ease the pain.

Would she ever put enough pieces of her shattered heart back together enough to try again with some other man? Or had Flynn, who had been the answer to a prayer, been the last man she would ever love?

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