Chapter 17 #2
My cheeks flush gently as I search for the right words. “Because I know what’s between those pages, and what you think about me matters.”
Ezra turns his body toward me and pushes strands of hair behind my ear. “Then let me be clear. Your words are incredible, Scarlett. Brave, just like you. The book is beautifully raw, full of emotion and hope. It needed to be told.”
My heart thuds in my chest, and heat rises to my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I mean it. If it sucked, I’d tell you.” A tender smile plays on his lips.
“We love an honest man,” I say.
Ezra squeezes my hand, pulling me back to the present. “So, did you hit your two thousand words? Is that why you’re here?”
Anxiety flickers again. “Not exactly.”
His expression shifts, and I’m almost surprised he can read me so well. “Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. My editor, Natalie, called earlier. She asked for the first three chapters.”
Ezra studies me closely. “Tell me why you’re concerned.”
I hold his gaze and sigh. “Last year, I tried to fulfill my contract and submitted my first draft. They rejected what I sent and asked me to start over. They said it didn’t feel like my writing.
Granted, I was depressed, and what I wrote wasn’t my best work.
I’m scared it’ll happen again, but I’m out of time.
The final has to be turned in by the end of next week. Seven days. If I don’t, I’m ruined.”
He reaches out, gently combing his fingers through my hair. “Can I help you? I’ll read them and give you my expert male opinion.” He snickers.
I chuckle. “You’d read them?”
“Of course. Who else in the world gets to read your words before they’re published?”
“There are a handful of people,” I admit. “I sent them to my bestie, Hallie, before I came over here.”
“No pressure, Scarlett. I’m here to help however you need,” he tells me.
My fingers tremble slightly as I forward the email to him.
“You’ve got mail,” I say.
Ezra pulls his phone from his pocket, opens the attachment, then hesitates before beginning.
“This feels illegal,” he tells me quietly.
I chuckle. “Go ahead.”
Ezra nods once as his eyes scan over his phone. Silence fills the room as I watch every subtle change in his expression. It’s impossible to miss the quirk of his brow or the thoughtful curve of his lips as his eyes slide over my words.
I can’t stop watching him, completely intrigued. I wish I could read his mind, to know his deepest thoughts as he processes mine.
When he reaches the end, he exhales, setting down his phone. His eyes meet mine.
“Scarlett,” he says, “I’m speechless.”
“Yeah?” My heart squeezes tightly.
“I do have one comment, though,” he says.
“Yeah?” I watch him.
“I think the hero is more obsessed than what you make him out to be.”
I chew on the corner of my lip. “Noted.” I hesitate. “Sharing this, sharing us, scares me. The last few times I wrote something this personal, it blew up in my face.”
Ezra’s expression changes. “This won’t.”
A knot forms in my throat as I reach for the copy of My Everything that’s sitting on the coffee table.
“After I published this book, my ex couldn’t handle it.
He told me I’d overexposed him, that I’d unfairly written his character.
There was so much resentment between us, and instead of fighting for our relationship, he walked away.
He chose the woman he was still seeing behind my back.
” My chest aches. The memories are still painfully raw.
“I was naive enough to think the truth might heal us, that if I wrote us a happily ever after, I could manifest it into happening. Instead, it ended us, then he tried to sue me.”
“Scarlett—”
“I was in love with the man I thought he was,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I was blinded. And I thought that if I just tried harder, became the woman of his dreams, maybe he’d choose me.” My breath catches. “It was hard being too much, and not enough, at the same time.”
My eyes move downward because I can’t look into his eyes. I know what I’ll find there—pity.
Ezra shifts closer, cupping my cheek and lifting my face until I have no choice but to meet his gaze. His expression holds zero judgment, only kindness.
“What he did had nothing to do with you not being enough. He was the one lacking. Your honesty terrified him because it forced him to confront his flaws and weaknesses. But that’s on him, not on you. I assume he knew what you did, that you wrote for a living.”
“He did,” I say. “He also knew my process. I warn everyone and anyone who means anything to me, so it’s not a surprise.”
“Fuck him,” Ezra states.
“Yeah. He ruined me for whoever comes next. For years, I thought there was something wrong with me. Maybe I ask for too much. Share too much.”
“Not with me. Ever.” Ezra’s tone leaves no room for doubt.
“My biggest fear is that I will be forced to choose between my art and love,” I say, voice trembling.
Ezra leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead, his breath warm against my skin. “Know that I want you to write the book of your heart without being concerned about me. Bleed on the page. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
My heart stutters, and the confidence in his words makes me want to believe him.
“I can’t believe you’re so understanding,” I whisper, leaning into him. “You’re like a figment of my imagination.”
Ezra’s arms wrap around me, pulling me close until his heartbeat echoes against mine. “I fucking love to hear that. Now, you should get back to work. You have five days to finish a book, right?”
“My editor told me seven. So, yay!” I stand, feeling my confidence return.
His brow lifts. “And how close are you to two thousand?”
“Almost there. I worked on cleaning up chapters for my editor first. But that’s okay,” I say, stretching.
“Mm. Text me when you hit your word count. I have a book to read, and you’re kinda interrupting that,” he jokes with a laugh.
“Enjoy,” I tell him, glancing over my shoulder, watching him watch me walk away. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Ezra says. “And then you’re leaving?”
I turn to him, my head tilted. “Do you not want me to go?”
“No pressure. However, no, I don’t. Not yet, at least. I want to spend time with you without any impending deadlines,” he confesses.
“I have to return to New York at the beginning of September and take care of some business.”
“Completely understand. So you’ll stay at least two weeks,” he confirms.
“Yes, but I’m paying you,” I tell him.
“I only accept O-coins,” he says with a snicker as he grabs My Everything. “Good luck writing, Scarlett. You’re fucking incredible.”
Once I’m back in the cottage, I settle into the chair, fingers poised above the keyboard.
Ezra’s words echo in my mind, clearing any shadows of doubt that my ex had left behind. Just as I begin typing, my phone vibrates.
I glance down and read the preview of Hallie’s message.
Hallie
This is your absolute best work. Don’t you dare second-guess yourself. I want more, RIGHT NOW! I’m already in love with Ezra.
Scarlett
You mean Jordan.
Hallie
Same thing.
Hallie
Send them to Natalie right now. 10/10, zero notes, incredible job. Already addicted.
A smile curves my lips. The pieces I’ve carefully hidden, those raw edges that my ex couldn’t handle, now feel safe in Ezra’s hands.
Something powerful, delicate, and terrifyingly real is building between us, and instead of fear, hope burns within me.
I do what Hallie suggested, say a little prayer, then I email the chapters to Natalie right now. I don’t wait.
Ezra gave me permission to write about us without a filter.
This is exactly how it should be, I think to myself.