Chapter Twenty-Four Savannah
| Twenty-Four |
Savannah
The weekend had been amazing. Bennett brought her breakfast in bed, and they stayed there all day, making love so many times that she lost count.
She hadn’t known that sex could be so wonderful.
Bennett was a master of foreplay and Savannah was astounded at the physical pleasure he gave her.
She opened her eyes expecting to see his head on the pillow next to hers, but it was empty.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Six. Was he already up?
“Bennett,” she called, thinking he might be in the bathroom, but no answer. She slipped out from under the covers and grabbed a robe. The door to the bathroom was closed, and she knocked. No answer. She pushed it open. Empty. He’d left a note on the counter.
Didn’t want to wake you. Working in my office. Love you. B
Yawning, she padded back to the bedroom.
Now was her chance to examine that picture she’d seen and make sure the ring Bennett had given her wasn’t the same one he’d given Poppy.
She opened his nightstand drawer. The picture was gone.
She opened the other drawer, but it wasn’t there either.
Had he thrown it out? Shit. Nothing to do about it now.
She didn’t hear any signs of life as she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The smell of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air, and she saw that the pot was half full.
She had hoped to have some time with him this morning, but he had said that come Monday it was back to the grind.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, then looked through the cabinets.
Bennett had told her how much he loved pancakes.
Savannah pulled up a recipe on her phone.
She pulled out flour, eggs, and the rest of the fixings and whipped up a batch.
She’d surprise him with a nice hot breakfast. When they were ready, she found a tray and put the plate of pancakes and some heated syrup in a container and walked down the hall to his office.
The door was shut. Propping the tray on one knee, she knocked. No reply. She knocked again.
“What?” he growled.
“Good morning. I made some pancakes. I brought you some.”
She heard him sigh heavily through the door. Then footsteps. He opened the door a crack, his body blocking her view.
“Can I bring this in?”
“Look, Savannah, I don’t like anyone in my office. It’s the one room in the house that’s off-limits. I thought I told you.”
She shook her head. “I just wanted—”
He cut her off. “I’m not hungry. And for future reference, when I’m working, I don’t want to be disturbed. It interrupts my flow. I’ll see you when I take a break.”
Before she could respond, he shut the door in her face. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. He’d never spoken to her that coldly before. She was only trying to be considerate. After she went to all the trouble to make him something from scratch.
“Asshole,” she muttered, keeping tears at bay as she went back to the kitchen.
She dumped the pancakes in the trash, then threw the plate into the sink.
Was the honeymoon over already? What was it with men?
They showed you their sweet side and then once they had you, the mask fell.
Slow down, she told herself. Maybe he was stressed about his deadline.
And he had told her that he didn’t like to be disturbed when he was writing.
She got that. When she was writing, she didn’t want to be bothered either. She shouldn’t be so sensitive.
She had things to do anyway. Bennett had told her she should start looking around for furniture for her office.
She couldn’t wait to get rid of Poppy’s things and claim the space that had belonged to her.
She hadn’t realized how aggravated she would feel being reminded of Poppy at every turn.
She looked over at the sitting area off the kitchen where there was another one of Poppy’s sculptures.
Savannah thought they were ugly and weird.
This one was a small wooden ladder with broken porcelain doll heads glued to it at odd angles.
Cracked mirrors and vintage photos with faces partially cut out overlapped with the doll heads.
It looked like something a crazy person would make.
This one was labeled The Ladder of Faces.
Savannah thought a better name would be The Ladder of Insanity.
She shook her head. Over time, she would relegate both pieces to the storage unit.
But for now, unfortunately, she was stuck with them.
The sound of footsteps made her look up. Bennett walked into the kitchen looking contrite. He came over to Savannah and wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m sorry. I was a dick.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I appreciate your going to all that trouble to make pancakes. I’d love to have some.”
“I threw them out.”
“I guess I deserve that.” He put his hands on her arms. “I get a little grumpy in my writing cave, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I was reading your chapters.”
All her irritation evaporated. “Oh. What did you think?”
“They definitely have lots of potential.”
“And?”
“Let me grab them, be right back.”
He returned and put the papers on the kitchen table, and they sat next to each other.
“Your opening sentence needs work. It’s your first chance to hook the reader, and this one is a bit too vague.
” He picked up the page and read. “ ‘Darcy took a sip of her wine as she watched the news.’ It doesn’t pique my interest. Now, if it was something like ‘Darcy’s stomach tightened as she watched the news,’ I’m immediately wondering why?
Did something happen to someone she knows?
Or is she on the news? You see, it raises a question. ”
Savannah nodded. “That’s helpful. Keep going.”
He pointed to the third paragraph. “So here is an info dump all about her backstory. It would be better to sprinkle it in gradually with some hints. The key is to keep the reader turning the pages. Always wanting to find out the answer to the subtle questions you pose.”
“Okay. Anything that is working?”
He paused, looking at her. “I’ll get to that. What’s more instructive is what’s not. But yes, on the next page Darcy’s reaction to her mother’s comment about her future is good. It’s visceral. I can feel how angry she is. Lean more into that kind of writing.”
Savannah picked up the stack of papers and leafed through. Bennett had made notes throughout. “Thank you. I appreciate your taking the time to do this. I’m excited to rework it.”
“Remember, good writing is rewriting.”
“Oh, I was wondering. When I do finally finish, do you think you could reach out to a few of your writer friends for a possible blurb?”
His eyebrows shot up. “That’s a bit premature, don’t you think? Let’s talk about it when you’re finished. If you finish. Everybody thinks they have a book in them, but until it’s finished, it’s just an idea.”
Savannah’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment.
“Yeah, okay.” Suddenly her mother’s words echoed in her head.
Telling her she was a quitter. That she’d never accomplish anything in life.
It wasn’t true. She’d already finished three other manuscripts, and she’d finish this one.
She was about to say just that when he stood up.
“I’ve gotta get back to work. We’ll go furniture shopping for your office later today.”
He started to walk back to his office, then stopped and turned around. “Oh hey, can you make sure Felicia sees the grocery list I left on the counter? She’ll probably come over around nine.”
“Oh, I can do the shopping.”
“No, it’s fine. That’s her job. Look it over and add whatever you like. But I do have a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s going to rain this afternoon and I’m on a roll right now, so would you mind taking Finn on a walk? Take the Rover. Keys on the hook in the kitchen.”
“Sure.”
He smiled, walked back over to her, and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks. You’re the best.”
“No problem,” she answered as he walked away, trying to rid herself of the feeling that she’d just been dismissed.
She thought of Marion’s warning to her. She wouldn’t be like those other women who’d left him.
A feeling of annoyance bubbled up when she remembered Marion saying Poppy’s obsession with her work had matched Bennett’s.
Savannah could be just as obsessed. She didn’t need Bennett to entertain her.
She would finish her novel, and it would be amazing. She would show them all.