17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
The blinking cursor mocked her. Paige glared at the half-empty Google Doc, then down at the scribbled outline in her notebook.
Then back at the screen. Everything was taunting her.
She let out a frustrated breath and tossed her head back against the couch cushion, catching Alice’s attention from across the living room.
“Maybe it’s time to close the laptop,” Alice suggested, looking up from the knitting project in her lap. Tux yawned from his spot on the back of the recliner and gave a meow like he agreed. “I think I’ve heard more moaning and groaning out of you in the past hour than typing.”
“I’m stuck,” Paige admitted, dragging a hand down her face. On the TV, Pretty Woman was wrapping up, with Richard Gere facing his fears and scaling the fire escape. Paige had been rewriting the same three paragraphs since the opening credits.
“Writer’s block?” Alice asked. The clicking of her needles started again.
Paige sighed. “More like writer’s drought.”
Alice hummed her sympathy. “Tried all the usual tricks?”
“Mostly.” Paige shrugged a shoulder. “Took a walk. Read a few chapters from favorite books. I tried writing on the train and even at that ridiculous coffee shop with the Yacht Rock playlist and the permanently sticky floors.”
“And still nothing?”
“Nothing.” Paige closed her laptop. It felt like a brick resting on her thighs.
She was supposed to be writing a chapter filled with romantic tension and vulnerability, but couldn’t summon either.
The only thing she’d been able to complete in the past few days was the bonus chapter for Kaylor, about why she’d killed off Hans.
And that had somehow triggered even more angst and frustration for her, because it was a stark reminder of the last time she let a man get in her head and mess with her creative process.
“Nothing is working,” Paige added, closing her eyes and focusing on the clicking of Alice’s needles. The sound usually soothed her. Not today. “I’m just flat stuck. My brain has decided not to create words anymore.”
“Maybe there’s something you need to get off your chest?” Alice suggested casually.
Paige opened an eye. “Such as?”
“Why you’re distracted.” Alice raised a brow, her fingers smoothly directing the yarn and needles.
“Start spilling. Let’s get to the bottom of it.
Is it Ethan? Cause you’ve been spiraling since he went quiet.
I haven’t mentioned it ’cause I know you need time to come to your own conclusions, but I think you need a little nudging now. ”
Paige pursed her lips and opened both eyes. How did Alice always know? “He’s distracting me,” she admitted, defeated. “But it’s not just Ethan.”
“What else?” Alice prompted, stitching another row on what appeared to be a strawberry hat. She’d started it when the movie began. Now it was almost done. Paige wished she could churn out words the way Alice churned out fruit-shaped headwear.
“The attention. The looming deadline. The pressure.” Paige sighed, splaying her arms out on the couch like a starfish. “That half the internet is picking me apart for not being good enough for Ethan, while the other half wants to find the necklace before we do.”
“The internet is bonkers. You know that,” Alice added, staring at Paige over her fruit hat. “They don’t know you. Those trolls don’t know how awesome and wonderful you are. And, if you want me to get in the weeds of any comment section and defend your honor, I absolutely will.”
Paige smiled, her heart warming at the suggestion. “I’d never ask you to do that.”
“You just say the word.” Alice raised a brow like she was ready for a fight. “I’ll absolutely destroy those trolls.”
Paige settled deeper into the couch and gave a soft chuckle. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Alice replied, before giving her a long, thoughtful look. “Anything else? Let it out.”
Paige stared down at her hands, thinking over the last few days.
“I was starting to like him. Like, for real.” She paused, picking a cat hair from her yoga pants.
“And he must’ve decided he needed space.
Time. Whatever. We had a good thing going.
I don’t understand. He just went cold. He pulled away.
Just like Derek did.” Ethan had lost interest. He’d gotten to know the real Paige, and something about her wasn’t good enough.
“You can’t compare the two.”
“I know,” Paige said. “It’s stupid.”
“Your feelings are not stupid.” Alice gave her a motherly look. “Maybe he’s dealing with something that has nothing to do with you.”
“Hmm,” Paige hummed, wondering what that could be and then realizing she was mostly frustrated with herself.
“I swore I’d never let a man mess with my head like this again.
Yet here I am, stuck in a spiral with a deadline to hit.
And my brain has short-circuited.” She ran a finger over the edge of her laptop.
“I should’ve said no to co-authoring the book. I should’ve written it on my own.”
Paige itched to open her computer, to write a line that wasn’t laced in doubt.
But her brain still felt tangled. Her heart too.
She’d let herself believe in something, and now she couldn’t separate fact from fiction.
She couldn’t write a love story when her own felt like it had ended before it had really begun.
“You can do it. You’ll get out of this writer’s block and back into a rhythm in no time. I just know it,” Alice said with a reassuring smile. “I believe in you. I think you just need some more girl time. That will loosen up your brain, for sure.”
Paige smiled at her friend, genuinely, and gave a sigh. “You’re probably right.”
“Maybe a little knitting therapy too?” Alice suggested, nodding to Paige’s abandoned knitting needles on the coffee table that sat next to a bundle of colorful yarn.
Paige scrunched up her face. She mostly used her needles as margarita stir sticks.
“I’ll help you get a coffee cup cozy started?” Alice continued. “And we can put on Sleepless in Seattle?”
Paige grinned and gave a soft sigh, knowing she wouldn’t complete more than a few stitches, but working on a project with Alice calmed her down. “Okay. A little Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan never hurt anything.”
Alice smiled and set down her needles, just as the apartment door swung open. Gigi bound through, holding a pan covered in tinfoil. “Who’s ready for manicotti?”
“Oh! We are!” Alice chimed. Tux leapt down from the recliner, greeting Gigi with a chirp.
“Sign me up,” Paige added, setting her laptop aside. What she needed right now wasn’t a perfect plot twist or a poetic line of prose. What she needed was comfort, carbs, and her two best friends, who never let her spiral alone. Her friends were the solution to any problem.
Later that night, Paige stepped into her apartment, full of manicotti and even fuller from the laughter that had carried through dinner, ice cream, and exactly one-and-a-half Meg Ryan movies.
She hadn’t known how much she’d needed her friends.
Just the three of them. Food, friendship, and the kind of conversation that let her feel everything and say anything without judgement.
She felt lighter. Her heart was steadier.
By the time she stepped into her apartment, it was after midnight. Her place was its usual haven of cozy chaos—books stacked in uneven towers, a candle half burned on the windowsill, and a bowl of stale popcorn on the counter from last night’s dinner.
Dropping her bag on the kitchen table, she kicked off her shoes, still feeling the last of Alice and Gigi’s encouragement in her chest.
Write something. Anything. Verbal vomit on the page until something breaks loose.
Her friends knew enough about her creative process to encourage her to do what had worked for writer’s block in the past. And she’d needed that reminder more than she realized.
Grabbing her laptop out of her bag, Paige padded into her bedroom.
She threw on her favorite, well-worn pajamas, cuddled up in bed, and stacked pillows behind her.
Setting the computer on her lap, she opened it.
The screen illuminated and the Google Doc blinked to life, the cursor still parked mid-sentence in the chapter she’d nearly abandoned.
But something had changed. A comment bubble glowed in the margin.
Paige leaned closer, her heart suddenly in her throat.
Ethan: This doesn’t read like your usual stuff. Are you okay?
Paige sat frozen, staring at Ethan’s comment. He knew she was off. Not the pacing or the plot. He’d noticed her. That she wasn’t okay. But should she tell him why?
Sliding the laptop closer, she hit “reply.” Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, thinking about what to say.
Paige: I am off. It’s been hard to write since you said you needed space. I don’t know if I should say that . . . but I just did.
She hit send before she could talk herself out of it. Sucking in a breath, she stared at the screen, fingers itching to delete her comment.
Tell him you’ve been busy. Haven’t had time to write. That the pressure got to you. Don’t tell him the truth. But just as her finger hovered over the touchpad, ready to delete her comment, another bubble popped up.
Paige jerked back against the pillows, staring at the new reply.
Ethan was awake? He’d just read her comment?
Paige leaned forward and gobbled up his reply.
Ethan: I didn’t want to pull away. I saw a notification on your phone. The dating app. A message from someone. It threw me.
Paige’s stomach dropped. What? She reached over on her nightstand and grabbed her phone, thumbs flying to the app she hadn’t touched in weeks.
When she scrolled to it, she saw the notifications.
The missed messages. She set her phone down without reading a single one and looked back at her laptop. Ethan added another comment.
Ethan: I shouldn’t have looked. Your dating life isn’t my business. But it surprised me how much it hurt.
Paige’s breath caught. It hurt him? She reread his words three times, her chest rising and falling with increased breaths. Did that mean he’d caught feelings for her too?
Her first instinct was to joke, to downplay it, to wrap her vulnerability in humor.
But sitting here, in front of her computer, the physical distance from Ethan made her brave.
She had a barrier. At least now, if she opened her heart and Ethan crushed it, she didn’t have to see his face.
And she wouldn’t have to hide the disappointment on hers.
She began typing.
Paige: I haven’t opened that app since our first writing session. I didn’t even know there were messages waiting. I’m not dating anyone . . . except you. I know it’s supposed to be fake, but I’m really enjoying our time together………………
Paige could’ve typed a million ellipses at the end of her reply. She had a lot more to say, but just those few sentences felt like jamming her foot on the gas pedal, racing toward a cliff with no brakes. After she hit send, Paige squeezed her eyes shut, regret settling in her chest.
What is he thinking right now? She was terrified to know.
After a minute, when she finally worked up the courage to open her eyes, there was a reply waiting.
Ethan: I’ve been enjoying our time too. And that’s what scared me. I didn’t know how to handle it when everything started to feel . . . real.
Paige’s hand went to her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat.
Another comment appeared.
Ethan: Can I ask you something?
Her fingers flew to the keyboard.
Paige: Fire away.
Seconds passed that felt like hours.
Ethan: Will you go on a real date with me? No book talk. No clues. Just me. And you.
A surprised laugh escaped her—abrupt and disbelieving and ridiculously full of hope. Her heart thumped as she typed.
Paige: I’d like that.
Ethan: Tomorrow. 6:00 p.m. Does that work for you? I’ll pick you up. Wear yoga pants.