Chapter 11
SCARLETT
Ireturn to the cottage, the toast already cooling in my hand.
The butter is glossy against the surface.
I set it on the counter and smile. It’s just toast. Bread.
Butter. Jam. Something I’ve made for myself a hundred times in a hundred different moods.
But this was made especially for me. I can’t seem to get past his selfless gestures.
Had I stayed, he would’ve cooked me an entire breakfast. I’m not used to anyone caring about me in the most basic ways. I’ve always been independent, so sometimes it’s hard for me to accept Ezra’s kindness. I’m trying, though, and that’s what matters.
He didn’t hand me bread. He sliced, toasted, and buttered it like it was his religion. And then added jam that I’m positive he made himself.
I’ve never been wooed by basic gestures. Am I desperate?
No. This feels like something else.
He’s thoughtful, and it makes me feel seen.
I sit at the two-seat table against the wall. I take one bite, and it’s good. Like really, really good. The butter isn’t greasy, and the jam is sweet. It shouldn’t make me feel anything, and yet here I am, chewing with a fluttering heart.
I reach for my phone to check my email so I can see if anyone is hounding me for an update. No one is. Before I click out, I notice there’s a text message waiting for me.
Hallie
Good morning! I was thinking about your book. Hope you accomplish a lot today.
Scarlett
Morning! I think I will since I have my muse. If I keep at this pace, I’ll be halfway through act two tomorrow.
I hit send, then eat some more. This man has me eating food before noon. A part of me believes I could get used to this. I take another bite and try not to imagine Ezra back in his kitchen, coffee in hand, messy hair, offering to spoil me.
He’s very stubborn and doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.
And that’s what wrecks me.
My phone begins buzzing.
Hallie
So you’re confirming he’s your muse?
Scarlett
Don’t tell anyone, please. I’m struggling with that.
Hallie
He’s not your ex, Scar. Good guys still exist.
Scarlett
At our age?
Hallie
We’re single. So yes. Do you have a photo?
I take a snapshot of what’s left of my strawberry jam toast and send it to her, knowing that’s not what she wants.
Hallie
A pic of him!!!
When I glance out the window, he’s there.
Ezra is standing near the garden, barefoot, crouched beside a wooden crate of feed.
Harry is strutting in wild, unpredictable circles, like he’s getting ready to attack.
Ezra’s wearing a worn gray T-shirt and jeans that ride low on his hips.
He tosses a handful of feed into the coop, and the hens rush forward.
I raise my phone and snap a photo, then zoom in and snap another. My pulse is louder than it should be for a man feeding chickens. I text her.
Hallie
I’d let him ruin my life. Damn. Can you ask him to take off his shirt?
Scarlett
I’m leaving in six days, Hallie.
Hallie
I’m extending your stay for another week. Minimum.
Scarlett
It’s probably best if I don’t.
I smile, even though I shouldn’t, because this isn’t a game. At least I don’t want it to be.
“Ugh,” I groan, gulping down the coffee. Ezra wasn’t kidding; he did make it strong as hell. Not complaining though, it’s welcomed.
I slide my laptop across the desk and open the lid. My document greets me, and it’s not a blank one. I will do what I came here to do: finish this damn book and make it the best thing I’ve ever written.
I reread the last paragraph.
Jordan enters her kitchen like he belongs there.
He pours coffee into two mismatched mugs, then sets one in front of her and leans against the counter.
Being together like this means more than either of them let on.
This is what happens when loneliness finds company.
Helena stares at the mug, then at him, then back again.
Her hands don’t move. Her mouth doesn’t, either, but something in her chest unlocks the cage that’s been holding the butterflies hostage.
He made her coffee because he knew that’s what she needed after the night they shared.
I pause and sit back, blinking. My pulse is faster than it should be.
The words came out cleaner than I expected. They weren’t trying to be anything other than what they are.
I type another line at the end.
Jordan watches Helena like he’s trying to remember the shape of her in the early morning light.
I exhale, hands hovering over the keyboard, afraid the magic might slip away if I don’t write it all down right now.
I type as fast as I can, allowing the prose to flow, allowing my characters to discover one another in ways I want with Ezra.
I’m living vicariously through Helena and Jordan, and that’s enough for me right now.
When I finally glance up, the sun has moved higher in the sky. The light shifts across the floorboards, climbing higher up the legs of the table and catching the rim of my mug.
My back aches from sitting for too long, but I don’t care.
The words are flying out of me. Not everything’s polished.
Some of it will need work and rewrites, but I’m done second-guessing myself.
It’s been too long since a story grabbed on to me like this.
I keep writing for another hour, then force myself to stand and stretch.
When I reach upward, letting my spine arch, my back pops.
I touch my toes, then walk toward the window to take in my southern oasis.
I hear the creak of a branch overhead and the faint sound of chickens clucking. I glance toward the main house, and everything is still. I wonder what he’s doing in there.
My stomach growls, and I move into the tiny kitchen. Ezra stocked it with snacks and food as I requested when I booked the cottage. In our conversation, I was very clear that I needed to be able to lock myself away for ten days without leaving. He’s accommodated me since before I arrived.
I glance over my options.
“Ramen it is,” I say to myself as I fill the container with water and pop it in the microwave.
As it heats, I reach for my phone and see a text Hallie sent two hours ago that I missed. I was so far in the zone, I didn’t even hear it vibrate.
Hallie
Does he have a brother?
I snort.
Scarlett
Sorry, only child.
Three dots appear.
Hallie
BS! Oh, guess what? I heard a rumor I might have to deal with Landon during Meadow’s book tour.
Scarlett
Your older brother’s best friend?
Hallie
Yes! I cannot believe that asshole is on her cover for her upcoming release. I don’t want to be around him.
Scarlett
I thought you were over this grudge.
Hallie
No! I HATE HIM, SCARLETT! I’m tempted to quit working for Meadow over this.
Meadow Wilson is a major client, a huge deal. She makes me look like a poser, and her writing is incredible. I’m not worthy. I’ve always looked up to her, even though she’s cunty.
Scarlett
Remember, she pays you very well, and she’s the only reason why you can afford your beautiful condo. Also, it’s just a rumor.
Hallie
You’re right. I’ve been worked up thinking about having to deal with that prick. I can’t, Scarlett. I can’t. I seriously CANNOT! Perhaps I can be unavailable. He will not FLY on a fucking plane!
Scarlett
You have a contract with her for two years that you can’t break. Everything will work out. I promise. Maybe he’s changed since the last time you’ve seen him. It’s been a few years, right?
Hallie
Time doesn’t matter. He says things just to piss me off. He’s going to get me fired.
Scarlett
Just treat him with professionalism.
Hallie
Impossible. But I’ll be happy to trade places with you if you want. You can be an assistant, and I’ll sit on Ezra’s face and finish your book.
The water I was drinking spews across the kitchen just as the microwave beeps. I burst into laughter, not realizing how much I needed that.
Scarlett
You’re ridiculous!
Hallie
Ugh!!!! I’m anxious about this! It’s an entire month of travel.
Scarlett
You’ll survive! Anyway, I have to eat, then get back to it. Don’t stress until it’s confirmed, okay? Rumors are rumors.
Hallie
With my luck, it’s happening. Happy writing! Chat soon!
I sit at the table and blow on the noodles.
It takes too long, so I grab a few ice cubes and throw them inside to cool it off faster.
I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I take my first bite.
Eating this brings me back to my college days, when I was studying literature at New York University, trying to survive on pennies while living in a one-bedroom apartment with my two friends.
If anyone knows about being a struggling artist, it’s me.
That’s another reason why I don’t ever take this for granted.
Once I’ve inhaled my ramen, I return to my laptop with my recorder in hand. I download my audio and run it through my app, where soon, my dictated words appear on the screen.
The excitement returns when my fingers are back on the keys. I happily get lost in my work, and it feels like something has been released beneath the surface. When I glance up, I see Ezra in the backyard with an axe in his hand, chopping wood for the firepit, I assume.
Muscles ripple down his back as he swings it overhead. I quickly grab my phone and record a video of him, then immediately send it to Hallie.
Hallie
Wow. He should be on a cover.
Scarlett
Hell no! I am not sharing this man with this world.
Hallie
Oh, you totally are. And I can’t wait to read about it.
Scarlett
Hush! I have to keep him a secret. I can’t let the same thing happen that did before.
Hallie
You know what they say? Third time’s a charm. And a man who has big hands…
I can’t help but blush.
Scarlett
Wears big gloves.
Hallie
That’s exactly right.
I set the phone down and glance toward the window one last time. Ezra is no longer chopping wood, which is probably for the best, because I might’ve stared for too long. I lose myself in my words.
When I lift my head, the sun has shifted lower in the sky. That long stretch of afternoon gold, which makes everything look more romantic than it is, makes its way into the light pink room.
I spin around in the chair and take in the space. This cottage has become my haven, and it will save my career from burning to ashes.
The adrenaline from the sexual scene I wrote has worn off.
My eyes sting, and my muscles are tight.
I check the clock and groan because the day is almost over.
It will be dark soon, and I’m running on a few hours of sleep.
I glance at the comfy bed, wondering if I should call it a night and sleep until Harry crows again.
I don’t have any words left in me. My brain feels like mashed potatoes. I’ve experienced three thousand different feelings since I started writing today. Plus, I don’t like to force it.
I close my laptop with a yawn and lean back in the chair, letting the quiet of the evening settle around me.
I should push through. I should keep going while the momentum is still warm, but my body disagrees.
Right now, I want to rot in cool sheets and darkness that doesn’t ask anything of me. My brain could review the words I wrote, but my heart wants a break.
Writing has always been my therapy.
Don’t get me wrong, I have a therapist whom I pay a lot of money for her services.
But writing is different. It heals me in ways nothing else can.
I know someone out there can relate. Love and falling in love used to be the core of my stories, but there’s more to it now than just a happily ever after. I’m enjoying the journey.
Will Helena and Jordan get their happily ever after? Yes. But I’m not sure how they get there yet. I’m waiting for my characters to tell me.
I climb into bed and pull the blanket up to my chin. It smells like the detergent Ezra washes his clothes in. I close my eyes, inhaling them, focusing on how cold the pillow is against my cheek.
I think about the little details in the cottage.
The vase of fresh flowers he left on the table.
The French press with locally roasted coffee.
The vanilla candle on the bathroom counter.
The kitchen was even stocked with food that’s easy to make.
Ezra made sure I was comfortable. He’s the perfect host.
My eyes grow heavy as the ceiling fan spins above me.
My phone buzzes once on the desk where I left it. I let it sit there, screen glowing faintly with a notification I’ll deal with when I wake up. Outside, the tree limbs blow in the breeze, allowing the last sliver of sunlight to enter. It cuts across the floor and catches the edge of the bed.
I replay Ezra looking at me like I was a person worth remembering. No man’s gaze has ever made me feel like I matter, until him.
This time, as I drift off, I don’t think about deadlines, my shitty ex, or my potential failures.
I dream about Ezra.