Chapter 3
Bea
The rain lashed the pavement outside the coffee shop.
If Bea hadn’t been so deeply in the writing zone, she would have noticed that the ferocity of her typing sounded like a mini rainstorm.
Two thousand words down in the past two hours.
She allowed herself a break, sipped her almond mocha, reached for her phone and let her fingers drift to the Instagram icon.
The voice in her head said don’t do it, but resistance was futile.
Ever since Josh had left her for this Avery Delaney woman, Bea sneaked occasional looks at Avery’s profile to see what she had that Bea didn’t.
Logically, Bea knew the answer. Everything and nothing.
You couldn’t compare a curvaceous redhead with a penchant for vintage fashion to a gamine blonde whose style was almost always designer.
Josh had loved Bea’s curves and had said that he was so proud to be seen with this stunning redhead who made heads turn wherever she went.
Amira had remarked that it was like comparing a rich red wine to champagne; they were both delicious in their own right, yet entirely different.
Still, Bea couldn’t help but peek at Avery’s profile, maybe to convince herself that the other woman wasn’t perfect.
Avery’s latest post showed her somewhere in a lush, green landscape wearing a flowing maxi dress.
Stunning as ever. Bea sighed. This was a mistake.
Why wasn’t there a picture of a normal looking Avery, one with some wrinkles or pigmentation on her face?
Of course, there wouldn’t be. The woman’s sole purpose was to promote herself through social media.
Then Bea noticed something that stole her breath.
The curve of Avery’s stomach. Was it a little belly fat or was it a bump?
A bump bump. Bea glanced at the caption and her fears were confirmed.
Twelve weeks today. Can’t wait to meet Little Bean.
The whole world wobbled under Bea. Avery was pregnant!
Twelve weeks pregnant. Josh had only left her four months ago.
This was like being blown into the back wall of the coffee shop.
It was betrayal all over again – essentially finding out that because she hadn’t been keen enough to drop her writing dreams to have children, somehow, she wasn’t good enough.
You have to put this baby news to the back of your mind.
You will be a mom in time with the right guy.
The one saving grace was that Bea felt a little sorry for Avery.
The woman had fallen for Josh. At least I don’t have a douchebag for a partner and I’m not tied to one for the rest of my life due to sharing a child.
Bea pulled up her own Insta profile. Maybe she should update it with something exciting.
The last post was of her trying on a spotted hat at JFK.
It was quirky and some of her readers had commented ‘cute’ and how they couldn’t wait to read the writing that her travels inspired, but Bea didn’t have the inclination to create visually stunning social media posts with her face front and centre.
She communicated with her readers but preferred to put all her efforts into chatting to them and the actual writing.
What was important to Bea was the development of the characters in her novels, not the development of a glossy image.
Besides, she had made it known that she would be away for three months and that her interaction on social media would be minimal.
Amira was tending to that side of things, monitoring to check there weren’t any urgent posts that needed attended to, reminding those unaware that Bea was busy in Scotland researching and writing her next novel – the first in a series set in the country – but that she promised them the silence would be worthwhile.
Secretly, Bea hoped that this novel would be the one that did it for her.
The one that people sat up and took an interest in.
She wasn’t expecting Fifty Shades type interest – that storm only came along once in a while – and her small but loyal group of readers were what kept her going, but she wanted her books to be known by more than a hundred people and she wanted to pay her bills without worry.
And now a little voice told her it would be an excellent way to show Josh that if only he’d stuck with her a little longer – had more faith – then he would have reaped the rewards.
‘Okay, stop that now; you’re tempting fate,’ Bea spoke out loud as she put her phone back on the counter.
‘Pardon,’ said an old lady sitting at the table behind her.
‘Oh, nothing.’ Bea smiled at the old lady. ‘I was talking to myself.’
‘First sign of sanity,’ said the lady, and Bea chuckled at the woman’s humour. In conjunction with her sing-song accent, it was comforting. And Bea needed all the comfort she could get right now.