Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROBERT
Over the span of the next two weeks, Emelia explained the reason she believed she hadn’t been able to cross over, much like I’d shared my beliefs behind my own.
While she was certain she was still here to help her brother believe in love and happiness again by finding and building a family of his own, my reason was a lot more complex.
I’d been accused of a falsehood: stealing from the local mob and being murdered before I had any chance to prove I hadn’t done all of what I’d been accused of.
And the love of my life, my fiancée? Well, Mildred Jones had betrayed me in the worst way possible. She’d believed another over her own betrothed.
Did I still love Millie? I think a part of me always would, but my soul no longer pined for her.
Instead, I found myself drawn to Emelia.
She wasn’t that much younger than me at twenty-three to my twenty-five, even though we came from a century of worlds apart.
She was funny, flirty, easy to talk to, unapologetically honest, intelligent, and beautiful.
And I missed her when she left every night.
Of course, having been burned by Millie left me a little gun-shy to attempt anything with my first friend in what felt like forever.
“Oh my!” Emelia said, sitting on the edge of Maggie’s desk, where she had a vantage point to the woman’s large computer screen that her laptop was connected to. It had become routine for her to spend a few hours narrating her favorite author’s words back to me, but she’d gone silent now.
A blushing Emelia had a hard time meeting my gaze, and I had an inkling what point Margaret was at in her writing. After all, I’d been the one to influence her wordsmithing as of late.
Grinning, I asked, “Why’d you stop reading, sweetheart?” as I approached her.
“I’m feeling like a voyeur,” she explained, her blush spreading beyond her cheeks, engulfing her entire face. “And I’m not sure I like reading about you and Millie.”
Call me a reprobate, a cad, or a sap, but I liked that. I liked that far too much.
MAGGIE
I didn’t know how or why it had happened, but this new book of mine was pretty much writing itself in my sleep.
When I’d talked about this new venture with Kara, she said it was a risk as it dealt with an era that wasn’t something I typically wrote, but the premise stayed true to my strength in genres.
In other words, she told me to run with it, and she expected the first few chapters in the next few weeks.
I’d ended up delivering the first ten in one.
Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled the words were coming with no effort, but this was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my four years of being a full-time author.
For one, this man—Robert or Bobby—had taken over my subconscious in such a way that I found myself writing more often than I was working on my home’s restoration projects.
James had encouraged me, urging me to strike while the inspiration was hot, and if he or any of the occasional workers needed anything, he’d find me.
Today, however, I’d just finished writing the hottest sex scene I’d ever written, and I needed to sit on it, because it was significantly more detailed than anything I’d ever written, and imposter syndrome was setting in.
Would my publisher accept this?
Would my readers?
Could I?
And what would be expected from my writing from now on if it were published uncut?
“Everything okay?”
I jerked out of my thoughts and looked up to find James looking my way from that makeshift table I’d put together in the foyer a little more than a month ago.
“Uhm.” I swallowed hard, feeling slightly out of breath and a little flushed.
“Uh, yeah. I think I need a break or something. Maybe I’ll go up to the attic like we talked about and see if I can find more of those missing light switch covers so we can use them in some of the other rooms that don’t have them. ”
His brows drew together, and his expression grew confused despite the subtle upward tick to his lips. “We?”
I shook my head, unable to keep the small smile off my face.
“I meant me. Or I.” After all, from time to time, I had to remind him—okay, both of us—that he was here strictly for my kitchen.
When it came to everything else, I was erring on a wait-and-see, even though I was pretty sure we both knew he’d be employed by me for the foreseeable future.
He nodded, then turned back to his work.
For a short moment, I sat there and admired his concentration.
Over the weeks, James Sullivan had gone above and beyond, proving his worth.
Hell, I’d even have to say the man and I had somewhat become friendly.
We’d teased, joked, and shared a few personal details; nothing too intimate.
It didn’t mean I didn’t want to share more, nor that I didn’t want to know more about the enigma of a man before me.
I’d have to be blind and deaf not to develop an interest in the man.
I’d, of course, noticed the sinew in his arms when he lifted something heavy, or the way his jeans hugged his muscular thighs and firm ass whenever he squatted or bent over.
Behave, Maggie.
I had no idea how long I’d been up here, but I’d found all sorts of treasures I planned to use around the house.
And then I was drawn toward a small stack of time-worn and moisture-dampened boxes, alone in a secluded corner. Upon opening the first, a wash of cold draped over me, generating a shiver that had me looking all around and seeing nothing strange.
“Come on, girl,” I muttered as I grasped the first few pages from the top. “Get a hold of yourself.”
Within minutes, I’d amassed about a dozen photos, and my heart was beating out of my chest when what I was looking at finally began to register.
“What the fuck?” I swallowed, trying to get my wits about me, and looked even harder. “But how?”
Despite the impossibility, there it was in black and white. A man and woman I recognized instantly: Robert and Millie.
The two characters starring in my latest novel.
Haunting my dreams.
Thinking I’d lost it, I needed a dose of reality and stat, so I set the images back in their box, clasped it against my chest, and turned to leave the attic space.
Halfway to the hatch, a gust of cold came over me again, and the bloody hatch slammed closed, generating a terrified shriek from me.
Dropping the box, I grabbed onto the latch and pulled up, but where the hatch was easy to push up and open earlier, it felt as if someone was on the other side, pulling in the other direction in an effort to keep it closed.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” I rambled, panic taking over. “Please let me get out of here.”
Just like that, the hatch finally gave way and caused me to land on the flat of my ass.
Not wasting any time, I scrambled to all fours, grabbed the box, and climbed down the ladder that still stood, unmoved from earlier.
By the time my feet hit the floor, I turned and landed face-first into a brick wall, dropping the contents of my hands.
“Maggie, what’s wrong? Mags, talk to me.”
“It’s not real! It’s not real!” I whisper-chanted to myself. “I’m not going crazy…”
“Mags, hon, tell me what’s going on?” James grabbed onto my face, tilting it so he could look into my eyes.
“Tell me it’s not real,” I repeated.
“What’s not real?” he asked.
“The photos. The book. Everything!” I babbled hysterically.
“Hey, hey, hey!” He shook me. “I need you to calm down. Look, look.” He grabbed my right hand and pressed it to his chest. “This is real.” Then he grasped my left and pressed it to his cheek. “This is real, Mags. I’m real.”
The delirium I was battling faded as quick as he’d said “Mags”, and I found myself staring up into a pair of stormy blue eyes, feeling the dark brown scruff on his cheek, and as much as my breathing had calmed, my heart began racing for another reason.
“That’s right,” James encouraged. “Breathe with me.”
I swallowed the sudden urge to cuddle into the man holding me against him, but that meant looking straight at him, and that scared me, too.
“I’m okay,” I tried to assure him.
“Yeah, you are,” he whispered encouragingly.
“You can let go, now,” I told him.
His mouth snagged my attention momentarily as he licked his lips, causing me to groan, and him to lean his forehead against mine before saying, “You sure?”
No. “Yes.”
On a curt nod, James’ lips pressed against my forehead as normalcy prevailed.
The moment was effectively broken.
The tension, however? Not so much.
The End for Now
Find out what happens next in James and Margaret’s journey as well as what becomes of Robert and Emelia in the full-length conclusion of this duet in Whispers from the Dark, coming July 2026!