Chapter 56
Bea
Bea was an overnight success: one who had worked eight years to get to that point.
Her latest novel was a smash hit and even those who did not normally read in the romance genre were reading it and talking about it.
She was being invited to conventions and book readings and her reader group on social media was always full of questions and people thanking her for writing such an awesome book. It was her dream coming true at last.
Healthy sales of the book and her back catalogue also meant a more robust bank balance for Bea.
It was such a blessed relief to focus on her writing without having to work bar at the same time.
Of course, there were no guarantees that the next novel would be as successful as the current one, but if she had to, she could always go back to bartending. Bars weren’t going anywhere.
The one downside to the popularity of her latest book was that it meant Bea could never push the memory of Cal from her mind.
He was there in her hero. Sure, she had changed the name but all that did was stop the public from knowing who she’d based him on.
Bea couldn’t shield herself from that knowledge.
But how she missed him. No matter how hard she tried to forget it, the time they had spent together was too special, too wonderful.
She had fallen head over heels in love with him and you didn’t fall out of love like that, especially not from someone like Cal Butler.
It was early April and Bea was having lunch with Amira at their favourite Chelsea deli.
Since things had taken off, Bea had found that there weren’t enough hours in the day to get all the writing done, as well as the admin, so Amira had taken on a bigger role in helping Bea with monitoring and filtering her emails as well as some social media scheduling.
‘So I finished the book,’ said Amira, referring to the second book in her latest series, which Bea had given her to read for feedback.
‘Oh.’ Bea was nervous of what Amira thought of it. ‘Great. Or is it?’
‘It is. I loved it.’ Amira tucked into her avocado salad. ‘I’ll message over the notes this afternoon. But I think Gil Painter’s brother is going to be as popular as Gil.’
‘You do?’ Bea let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in. ‘That’s great. I’ve been a bit worried this one might fall flat as it’s more from my imagination than the last one.’
‘No way will you fall flat, Honey. There’s too much spirit in these books.
Real issues that real people experience, like toxic relationships, guys with kids already.
I’m fielding loads of emails from people who don’t want to talk on the public group but want to share how much the story touched them.
I’ve put them in the fan mail folder, but I’ve flagged some of the ones you’ll need tissues for. ’
‘Really? God!’ Bea had always imagined what it would be like to get fan mail like that, but she hadn’t been prepared for if it did happen.
‘Yeah, I guess when you talk honestly about life it means a lot to a lot of people.’
‘Oh, my goodness! I didn’t ever think my stories would affect people in such a way. I will be reading those with a box of Kleenex this evening.’ Bea took a large gulp of wine; such was her excitement.
‘And before I forget,’ said Amira. ‘I’ve transferred you back that money you lent me. I’m sorry it took so long.’
‘You didn’t need to worry about that. You know I’m going to add it back into your pay packet. And lunch is on me. Should we order some more wine?’
The conversation flew like a runaway train. Bea and Amira never ran out of things to say to one another. Then when they were on their third glass of white, Amira broached the thing she knew must be on Bea’s mind and Bea sobered up fast.
‘It’s around about now, right, that the baby’s due?’
‘Mmhh. How on earth did you remember that?’
‘Well, as your assistant, it’s my job to keep track of everything in your life. Also, it’s written all over your face. My guess is you’re thinking about it a lot?’
There was no getting anything by Amira, but Bea wouldn’t have expected anything less from her closest friend.
‘Yep, the baby’s due around about now and I’m finding it difficult to stop thinking about it. That’ll be one lucky kid having Cal as its dad.’
Amira topped up Bea’s glass. ‘Have you thought any more about getting in touch with him?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Bea. ‘I mean, I have thought about it, but I don’t see what’s changed. I still don’t think I could cope with being a half mom or something.’
‘Well, that’s a shame. He did sound like Mr Perfect.’
‘He was pretty damned perfect.’ Bea wondered if she would ever find anyone quite so wonderful again.
When Bea had said she’d read the fan mail with tissues, she hadn’t anticipated needing a whole box.
There were so many moving messages and she was truly humbled.
That evening, she sat up until two replying to each one with heartfelt gratitude to her wonderful readers for sharing their stories with her.
But there were two messages in particular that stood out. One was from a reader called Andrea:
It means the world to have my concerns over being a stepmom reflected back to me from the pages of a novel.
Thank you for putting what is in in my heart into a character, so eloquently and accurately.
I should also say that although being a stepmom is darned hard at times, I am so glad I chose to go down this route.
My love for my husband is stronger than ever and his kids are amazing young people who fill me with so much pride.
There was also a message from a reader called Laura:
Having lost the love of my life – the bravest and most selfless man I ever knew – on what should have been a simple tour of duty, I have to say that I treasure your books for both the escapism as well as hope that one day I might love in that way again. Never stop writing your beautiful stories.
These messages were truly heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time.
Bea was reading this last message again and nearly choked on her tears when the realisation hit her.
What on earth was she doing? These women were inspired by her: women with problems that they had overcome.
Overcome with love and hope and strength.
Why did Bea think she was any different?
Cal loved her, she loved him, yet here they were living on separate continents because Bea was afraid that an innocent little baby might impede him loving her enough.
What an absolute fool she was. All the emails and messages people had written telling her that her stories had given them hope in a world where they thought they could never find true love, and there she was having found it, but thrown it away like a perfect winter coat with a small pulled thread in the fabric.
Not a day went by when she didn’t long for Cal: to feel him envelop her, to have his hot skin burning with hers, his fingers linked through her own.
It didn’t escape her attention that she was pining as if it were impossible to have any of this.
Yet, that was not the case. Oh, what an idiot she was. What an absolute fool.
Bea opened up a blank email and started to type. She might not be able to get Cal back, but she owed him a proper explanation.