Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The sun was just starting to come up when Blaise dressed in her walking clothes and slipped into her sneakers.
Early morning had become her favorite time of day.
Everything was possible at this hour, and it felt so peaceful.
The house was wonderfully quiet. Just the soft whir of the ceiling fan and Beau’s tail thumping once he realized what the shoes meant.
He followed her out to the kitchen, dancing around her feet as she got a pot of coffee going. “Hold your horses,” she murmured. “We’re going. I promise.”
She’d forgotten her phone by the bed. She went back to get it and sent a quick text to Brick. Up for a morning walk? Beau and I are heading out if you want to join.
She pictured Brick already up and probably on his second cup of coffee. Maybe prepping to visit Holland at the hospital again. Which reminded her—she’d meant to ask Brick when his son would be discharged. Had to be soon.
Blaise slipped the phone into the pocket of her leggings and filled a stainless-steel bottle with ice and water so it would be ready for her when she got back.
Her phone chimed. She smiled without looking. That was fast, she thought. Brick must be more awake than she was. She pulled her phone back out, but when she glanced at the screen, it wasn’t a text.
It was an email. She tapped on the notification. It was from a different publisher.
Her stomach tightened, not in a bad way, but enough to make her freeze up a little. The subject line sat there, stark and unmistakable. Regarding Your Memoir Proposal
This was not the publisher who’d wanted a call. She was talking to them on Monday at ten.
This one was new.
Blaise stood in the kitchen, coffee percolating away, Beau sitting patiently at her feet, his leash now in his mouth, as if he might take matters into his own paws if she stalled much longer.
“Give me a second,” she told him, though she wasn’t sure if she was talking to the dog or herself. She opened the email and read.
They thanked her for the submission. Said they’d read the proposal with interest. Said they weren’t ready to move forward with an offer at this time.
Her heart sank, just a little, but she’d known there would be rejections. But was that what this was? She kept reading.
They were intrigued by her voice and the story she had to tell. They had questions about structure and scope. They wondered whether she’d be open to working with a ghostwriter. And would she be available to talk?
Blaise lowered herself onto the edge of the chair by the counter. This was just like the first one. Not a yes, but not a no.
Was she open to working with a ghostwriter? She didn’t love that idea. It felt like letting someone else tell her story.
She read the email again, slower this time, letting herself actually absorb the words instead of racing through them to see what they were really saying. It was pretty cut and dried. They were interested, but again, they wanted to talk.
Beau woofed softly and dropped the leash at her feet.
“I know,” she said quietly. “I thought we’d be out the door by now, too.”
Her phone chimed again. This time it really was a text from Brick. Just saw this. Give me five and I’ll meet you at the gate.
Blaise stared at the screen for a moment, then let out a breath that turned into something close to a laugh. It was slightly giddy, but she couldn’t help herself. She was standing at the edge of something that might actually happen. Her book could be a reality.
Granted, she had no idea what kind of money it would mean, but it had to mean some. They weren’t going to expect her to do this for free. Cece would know more. Blaise would call her as soon as she got back from walking, which spurred her to answer Brick.
Perfect. See you soon.
Then she looked at the email again. Two publishers. Two maybes. Two people who’d read her words and were interested in at least talking.
This wasn’t a reason for celebrating. Not yet. This wasn’t that kind of moment. But she did feel buoyed by the possibilities. She’d answer this new publisher when she got back from walking, too. That way she’d be a little more levelheaded.
Blaise stood, tucked her phone away, and clipped Beau’s leash on. As she stepped outside, the morning air carried the sweet scent of plumeria from her neighbor’s yard, and the sky was pale blue and wide open. Her future felt the same way. Like she was on the verge of something life-changing.
Brick was leaving his back porch as she walked through the gate between their yards. Beau raced ahead to greet him, and he bent to give the little dog a scratch.
He nodded at Blaise. “Morning. Thanks for the invite.”
She smiled. “It was Beau’s idea.”
He grinned. “I see.”
The neighborhood was just starting to wake up as they walked, the lawns damp with dew. Someone down the street had a radio on low, oldies drifting through an open garage door. Beau trotted ahead of them, leash loose, clearly pleased that he had not one but two people in tow.
Brick matched Blaise’s pace without effort. He wore a faded T-shirt, cargo shorts, and running shoes, his posture easy but alert, like he’d been awake for a while. Which, knowing him, he had.
They waved at a couple walking in the opposite direction and exchanged a brief hello with a woman watering her plants. Blaise liked these small acknowledgments. She loved the sense of belonging to a place.
“How’s Holland?” she asked as Beau stopped to investigate a palm frond that had fallen onto the sidewalk.
Brick glanced down at the dog, then back at Blaise. “Better. Getting stronger. They’re talking about sending him home tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” she said. “Really good.”
“It is,” he agreed. “He’s ready. Restless and tired of hospital food.”
“I can imagine.”
They walked on, the houses giving way to a stretch of main road lined with live oaks. Beau surged forward toward a dragonfly, tail wagging, then settled again as the insect flew out of reach.
After a few quiet steps, Blaise said, “I got another email this morning.”
Brick looked at her. “From a publisher?”
“Yes. A different one.”
He didn’t react right away, which she appreciated. He seemed to be waiting for her to tell him more.
She obliged. “Not an offer,” she said. “But not a pass either. They want to talk just like the first one. Ask some questions. That kind of thing.”
“That sounds promising,” he said simply.
“It does,” she agreed. “It feels…real. Like they actually liked what they read.”
Brick nodded. “I’m sure they did if they sent that email.”
She laughed softly at that, a weird sense of tension filling her. Nerves, probably. The anticipation of what might be. “I keep reminding myself it’s still a maybe.”
“Sure,” he said. “But it’s a strong maybe or they wouldn’t want to talk.”
They turned a corner, Beau quickening his pace like he knew exactly where they were going. Despite the electric feeling of anticipation, Blaise felt lighter than she had when they’d left the house.
“I’m proud of you,” Brick said, not looking at her, like it was just a fact.
She swallowed. “Thank you.”
They walked on, the morning stretching open in front of them, Beau leading the way.
Brick glanced over at her as they crossed the street. “Have you told Evan yet?”
They stopped as Beau paused to sniff a mailbox post with great concentration, then he decided it was a good place to pee.
“No,” she said. “I haven’t.”
Brick nodded. “Any particular reason?”
She considered the question as they started walking again. “I don’t want to tell him until there’s something concrete.” She lifted one shoulder. “He worries about me. I don’t want this to turn into another thing he feels like he has to manage.”
“I can understand.” Then Brick went quiet for a few steps. “He’s protective.”
“He is,” Blaise said. “And I get it. But sometimes it becomes more than that and he gets to thinking I can’t handle uncertainty. Or risk. Or more like I shouldn’t handle it.” She shook her head slightly. “I need to do this without him hovering.”
Brick glanced at her then.
“I know,” she said, reading his look. “But I’m not shutting him out. I will tell him. Just not yet.”
They walked on, the sun higher and warming the air. Beau tugged gently toward a patch of grass he clearly considered worth further investigation.
Blaise let the leash out.
“For what it’s worth,” Brick said. “I think you’re right not to tell him yet. You don’t owe anyone an announcement until you’re ready.”
Blaise smiled at that. “Thanks.”
They turned toward home, the neighborhood fully awake now, and Blaise felt quietly sure of one thing.
When she did tell Evan, it would be on her terms. And it wouldn’t be until there was a done deal.