Chapter 15 Hunter
HUNTER
After ice cream, Tyler left to do homework upstairs. I wasn’t sure if I should stay or not, but Seraphina suggested wine by the fire. The day had been warm, but the moment the sun went down, chill returned to the air.
Soon, we were sitting before the gas fireplace, wine in hand. I could sense the heaviness in her, the weight of career anxiety impossible to shake. I understood completely.
“Talk to me,” I said. “I want to know what’s happening in that fine brain of yours.”
“I’ve been thinking all night about the possibility that my publisher drops me,” Seraphina said. “I’m terrified.”
“What do you think Sylvia meant by pivoting?”
“Who knows exactly. They still think they can predict what people want to read, but I know that’s not true. Sometimes things are hits that no one saw coming.”
“Let me ask you this—is there a book you’ve been wanting to write but haven’t because it feels too far out of your lane?”
She hesitated. “Not in a long time. This last one—when I finished—I felt kind of numb. I miss the days when I raced to my office to write and finishing a book was exhilarating.”
“How long has it been since you felt that?”
“Probably a year. Right around the same time Gillian and Alex fell back in love.”
“Okay, well, that’s interesting timing.”
“How so?”
“Is it possible their love story made you want one of your own? Which, in turn, made it harder to write one?”
“That is possible, yes.” Her mouth twitched into a half-smile.
“This is terrible to say, but, when we were all single, I didn’t feel so alone.
But seeing everyone but Delphine and me happy and in love made my loneliness more acute.
Not to mention how it’s affected my writing.
How was I supposed to dream up romances when I felt so uncertain about ever having a love of my own? ”
“How are you feeling lately? You know, since me.” I grinned.
“I feel hopeful,” she said, somewhat evasively. “Should I?”
“If you’re asking how I feel about you, then, yes, you should feel hope.
I’ve fallen hard. I can’t think about anything else but you.
I can’t wait to see you. And talk to you.
Be with you.” I reached over, tucking strands of hair behind her ear.
“I’m no good at saying the right thing, or knowing how to woo a woman like you, but I’m also not an idiot.
You’re a remarkable person—beautiful, smart, talented, driven.
A fantastic mother. I’d have to have a screw loose not to want you in my life.
And as far as I can tell, there are no loose screws in this noggin.
” I tapped my forehead with a finger. “Yes, my heart has some bruises. Ones that have made it hard for me to admit that I’m in love with you.
In fact, I have been since the first time I ever saw you walk into, The Pelican. ”
“Is that true?” She watched me, her green eyes bright.
“I’d been trying to get up the courage to ask you out for a year.”
“What stopped you?”
“The bruises, for one.”
“What else?”
“I was feeling too low. The songs wouldn’t come. I was working as a bartender. The guy I’ve been for the last year was not good enough for Seraphina Sinclair.”
“I like you whether you’re a bartender or a songwriter,” she said.
“Maybe that’s true, but I haven’t liked myself in a while. Which I’m starting to understand is the part that matters most. Until I started liking myself again, there was no room to like anyone else.” I paused for a second. “Replace “liking” with loving. I love you.”
“And yourself?”
“I love myself too. The man I am with you and Tyler is the real me. Not the insecure cuckold licking his wounds in Wes and Margaret’s cottage.”
“While reading my books.”
I chuckled, nodding. “That’s right. They helped heal me. And time too. Having you in my life has brought me back. You’ve inspired me. The music is coming to me again. Because of you.”
“I understand. This last book felt hard to write. Add on Sylvia’s comment about pivoting, and I’m off my game. I’m afraid this is the beginning of the end of my career. And I don’t know who I am if I’m not a writer.”
I could see how hard it was for her to admit that to me. “What if you wrote something that excites you? Something just for you? A book you’ve always wanted to write?”
“I have no idea what that would be. For so long, it’s been about giving the publisher what they want, I don’t know if I can even reach that place in myself any longer. You know, where the ideas just come, begging me to write them.”
“I do know. I really do. But I also believe in your talent. Your editor’s comment about pivoting has you doubting yourself but no one else does.
Not me. Not Tyler. Not your friends. Maybe this is a turning point in your career?
Time to write something a little out of your comfort zone could give you your spark back.
Altering the course is sometimes what we need to reach the next level of creativity. ”
She was quiet for a moment, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “There is an idea I’ve thought about off and on for years. I don’t know what it is exactly but it’s something sweeping—multigenerational, women, growing up in the South. But that’s all I’ve got.”
“Want to talk about it? Maybe I could help?”
She flushed, shaking her head. “I have some ideas, but, when I say them out loud, they often sound ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
She looked at me for a moment, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “Yeah okay. Music might be the thread. Breaking the cycle of generational poverty because of musical gifts. And what happens to the people you leave behind. Or something like that anyway.”
We both laughed. Then, an idea popped into my head. “Come to Nashville with me. We can go to The Meadowlark Café where it all started for me. Maybe you’ll find the story whispered from the cracks through the floorboards.”
Her face lit up. “Really?”
“Ivy’s playing at The Meadowlark Café in three weeks. We could go.”
“Please don’t be joking right now. Don’t get my hopes up unless you mean it.”
“I’d never joke about Meadowlark.”
“Are you ready to go back?” Seraphina asked.
“You know, I am.” As I said it, I realized it was true. “This is my home now, but a part of me will always belong to Nashville.”
“Willet Cove feels like home?”
“Not to scare you away, but wherever you are is where I want to be.”
Her eyes went glassy. “That’s good to hear because you’re becoming home for me too.”
“I’ll ask Ivy to get us in,” I said. “She’s booked for a show at The Meadowlark three Saturdays from now. We’ll fly in on Friday, so I can show you around. See her show on Saturday. Maybe spend another day exploring—I can take you to all my old haunts. Then come home Monday.”
“I’m there,” Seraphina said. “As long as you’ll be my date for the movie premiere next weekend.”
“I’d be honored.” I leaned over to kiss her. “I’ll get us the plane tickets for Nashville.”
“I’ll have the Netflix team add you to the VIP list.” She smiled, her eyes alight. “I haven’t gone anywhere in a long time. Maybe between the premier and Nashville, I’ll get pulled out of my slump.”
“I have a feeling it might be just what you need.”
I really hoped I was right.
Tyler’s game started at noon. We’d claimed a patch of grass near third base with lawn chairs and coolers for the whole gang.
Lila had brought a charcuterie board, with mounds of cheese, cured meat, nuts, dried fruit and crackers.
Grady and Esme had brought a cooler of drinks.
Gillian sat with Leo against her chest, the baby sleeping through everything.
Delphine had come from the gallery. She stuck out in a tailored light blue suit when everyone else was in jeans or shorts.
Seraphina sat beside me, her shoulder touching mine. She had her sunglasses on and a Giants cap pulled over her long hair. Although she didn’t say anything, I could see her unease in the tenseness of her shoulders and the way her gaze darted here and there, looking for photographers.
On a blanket slightly behind our chairs, Margot was coloring with Madison, the two of them bent over a book of princess designs.
“Purple is for her dress because she’s a queen, not a princess, and queens wear purple,” Madison said.
“Queens can wear whatever they want,” Margot said.
“Mine can’t. She has to wear purple.”
Nearby, Robbie sat cross-legged with a book called The Physics of Baseball open on his lap. He hadn’t looked up at the actual game once.
“Robbie,” Esme said. “You could watch your friends play.”
“I am watching,” Robbie said, not looking up. “I’m studying the theoretical framework.”
Grady caught my eye and shrugged. “He’s learning about spin rates. Fascinating stuff.” He lifted his eyebrows.
Up on the bleachers, I could see Annie, Grace, Bella, and Mia clustered together, as far from the parent zone as they could manage. They’d waved when they arrived and hadn’t looked our way since.
Alex was in the dugout with the team, clipboard in hand.
As a volunteer assistant coach, he took direction from the high school coach, but, from what I’d observed, Alex was the heart of the team.
Even from a distance, I could see how the boys looked up to him and relied on him for emotional support.
By the third inning, our team led by two. Tyler was up to bat.
“He looks good,” I said to Seraphina. “Great stance and focus.”
“His focus is one of his strengths. That and he knows how to keep his emotions in check. Some of the other boys are hotheads, but he keeps his emotions in check.”
“Hard to do.” I called out to Tyler. “Go, Tyler. You’ve got this.”
Tyler glanced our way just for a split second, smiling, then set his gaze on the pitcher.
The pitch came in. Tyler swung and connected with a sharp line drive over the shortstop’s head. He took off running, rounded first, and slid into second just ahead of the throw.
The bleachers erupted. Our little group all cheered. But no one as loud as Madison.