Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Beau seemed to know Blaise was not her usual self this morning. He stayed on the path, sniffed only a few things, and did his business without having to try out a hundred spots before finding the right one.
She was preoccupied. She had the future on her mind.
Yesterday, she’d written and rewritten until the words in front of her had stopped making sense. Then she’d sent the pages off to Cece, who’d returned the document an hour later with all kinds of notes and plenty of complimentary comments.
In short, Blaise had some grammatical issues to work on, but Cece had raved about the chapter.
For that, Blaise was grateful. It had been hard, gut-wrenching, even, to put such a terrible experience on the page like that. To expose herself knowing it would be out there for the entire world to see. Cece said she’d even cried. Cece! The woman who sometimes seemed like she was made of steel.
Cece had given her a lot of great ideas and wise thoughts.
Blaise had worked on them until almost eight o’clock, at which point she’d decided she couldn’t make the chapter any better.
She’d taken a hot bath, drank a cold glass of wine, and gone to bed to read, hoping her own words would go quiet in her head.
They hadn’t.
Not really.
Now, as the morning sun warmed her shoulders through the fabric of her T-shirt, she was still thinking about them.
She followed Beau down the familiar sidewalks, only partially paying attention.
The Gulf breeze ruffled her hair, but even that pleasant sensation couldn’t blow away the worry in her chest.
Because now came the hard part.
If she went forward with this book idea, the world was going to discover how she’d been scammed out of her money. Every last horrifying detail. How she’d trusted the wrong person. How she’d ignored her instincts. How she’d lost almost everything.
What would people think? Would they pity her? Judge her? Call her na?ve? Worse, would she become the punchline of some joke about how it was a good thing she’d had her looks to rely on?
Beau glanced back at her as if sensing her spiraling thoughts. His floppy ears perked, and Blaise managed a thin smile. “I’m fine,” she told him softly. “Just thinking too much.”
She would have to truly stop caring about strangers’ opinions—at least as much as that was possible. What really knotted her stomach was imagining how Evan would react.
Her son prided himself on logic, on caution, on always doing the sensible thing.
He’d been patient with her after the scam.
Supportive, even. But she’d seen the disappointment in his eyes.
The fear that she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself.
The worry that someday she might need to lean too heavily on him and his wife.
He still looked at her like she wasn’t as capable as he’d once thought. As though losing his father and her money had left her disabled in some way.
What if he read her memoir and had to deal with the whole world knowing the truth about his mother? What then?
She stopped as Beau sniffed a clump of grass. She could make a pretty good guess. And it wasn’t him being happy.
Beau tugged the leash gently, eager to move on, and Blaise exhaled, doing her best to drop the tension from her shoulders just a little.
The community was waking up around them, the sky brightening, gulls crying. Pretty soon she was going to be in front of her computer again, ready to send that letter and first chapter.
Maybe that was the point of all of this. Learning to deal with the fear, the shame, the uncertainty. Maybe doing this would show Evan she was capable of taking care of herself. Wasn’t telling the truth its own kind of healing?
And maybe Evan needed to see not just where she’d fallen, but how she’d risen. There’d be no denying she was standing on her own two feet if she made some decent money from this. Money was the one thing Evan definitely understood.
Blaise inhaled deeply, the salt air steadying her. This wasn’t going to be easy, but she could do it. She already had Cece and Maude in her corner. She knew Essie and Paige would be there for her, too.
And Brick. She smiled thinking about him. She’d told him about her book idea the night they’d gone to dinner at the fish camp. He’d given her that steady nod and said it sounded like a good idea.
“All right, Beau,” she whispered. “Let’s finish this walk. I’ve got work to do.”
Beau wagged his tail, and together they continued toward home and her laptop, and whatever courage the next step demanded.
By the time Blaise and Beau reached her front door, the sun was climbing higher and the community felt fully awake. She gave Beau his breakfast, then headed straight for the shower. The hot water loosened her stiff shoulders but didn’t wash away the fluttery nerves building in her stomach.
Today, when she sent that letter and that chapter out, her terrible truth would be available for public consumption.
She wrapped herself in her robe and padded barefoot to the small kitchen table where her laptop waited. The sight of it made her breath catch. It felt like staring over a cliff she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to jump from.
She would have loved a cup of coffee, but she was jittery enough. She made tea instead, then sat down, opened the document, and read slowly through every paragraph she’d agonized over.
The sentences felt more solid than they had yesterday. Cece’s notes had strengthened the story and polished the rough edges. And the rawest bits, the parts she’d feared were too messy and vulnerable, now read like something real and human and brave.
Beau settled at her feet with a soft whuff, as if he was ready for her to get on with things and pay attention to him again.
“I know,” she murmured. “I’m sort of stalling, but I really don’t want to send this with any typos.”
Her finger hovered over the touchpad, ready to click into her email drafts and give the letter a read-through, too. But just as she drew in a bracing breath, her phone buzzed.
Brick was calling. Her heart thumped once, startled. She answered. “Hi.”
“Morning,” Brick said, voice warm and steady. “You good?”
“I am.”
“Have you sent it yet?”
Blaise glanced at the laptop. “Not yet. I’m reading through it one last time.”
A low, amused sound rumbled through the line. “That’s what? The sixth read-through?”
“I think it’s number five, but I get your point.”
He paused, letting the silence soften. “Blaise, listen. You told the truth. You wrote from the heart. It’s honest, and that’s what people connect with. You can’t do more than that.”
She pressed her hand to her forehead. “I just keep thinking, what if it’s not enough? What if they reject me? What if I shouldn’t have written this at all?”
“Then they’re fools,” he said sharply.
She smiled at his gruffness. At the way he was ready to jump to her defense.
“What happened doesn’t define you,” Brick went on. “You came back from it. That’s what people will see. What your son will see. I know you’re worried about him.”
For a quiet man, he was a very perceptive one. “You really think so?”
“I do.” He paused. “Now hit Send before you talk yourself out of it.”
Blaise let out a shaky laugh. “I will, I promise.”
“What’s holding you up?”
“Just want to read this email one last time.”
“I’ll wait.”
And he thought she was stubborn. She looked at the email draft again.
She attached the chapter to it. The chapter that had cost her so much pride, so much fear, and so much courage to write.
She had five publishers to send it to. She pasted in the first email address, then looked over the subject line.
Supermodel Blaise Monroe is back and she has a story to tell!
Her pulse hammered. “I’m ready.”
Brick spoke softly. “I’m here. Go on.”
She took a breath, then blew it out again, and hit Send.
A whoosh sounded, small and final.
“It’s done. Off goes the first one. Four more to go.”
Brick exhaled on the other end of the line, as if he’d been holding his breath, too. “Get those done, then come for coffee. It you want. Bring Beau, too.”
“I will. And I want.” Blaise rested her hand over her heart. “I can’t believe I actually did it.”
“I can,” he said. “You’re about the bravest woman I’ve met since I lost my Patty.”
She laughed softly, touched by his words. “Thank you, Brick.”
“Anytime.”
When she hung up, Blaise sent the email four more times, then sent a text to the Queen Bees group chat. My query letter is off to the publishers, along with my first chapter. Fingers crossed!
Beau nudged her ankle. She reached down and scratched his ears.
“It’s done,” she whispered. “I really did it.” She scooped Beau up and kissed his head. “What do you say we go see Brick and have that coffee now?”