Chapter 28 #3
big thing it was to move publishing houses and lose the support for my other books. “I’m going to keep the faith that they
want this book.” I cleared my throat. “Let’s change the subject.”
His face lit up. “To me missing you.”
I bubbled with glee. This man could take me from low straight to the mountaintop. “Of course.”
He lowered his voice and whispered sexily, “What are you wearing?”
I laughed out loud. “Asks every perv. You’re silly. You’re looking at me, and as you can see, I’m wearing yucky writer clothes.”
“I only see your beautiful face and neckline, which, by the way, looks very kissable.” He closed his eyes. “But I can imagine
the rest of it—an old T-shirt, sweats or shorts that need to be in the trash, ratty slippers.” His eyes popped open. “Am I
right?”
I stood and stretched my tee. “The slippers aren’t that old.”
He chuckled again. “That’s been your problem. No rips and no holes. Your muse needs holes to move in and out of.”
“I’m certain that hasn’t been my problem.”
“Well, no matter. You’ve arrived now. It’s time to figure out what’s next.”
“Ms. Kate said I should write about my humble beginnings. My mother was sixteen when I was born. My dad died young. We were
poor. Blah blah blah.”
“Poor?” Gabe seemed surprised by that.
“Very. Lights off kind of poor.”
“Your father didn’t leave your mother any money?”
“No.” I scrunched my face. “Where did you get the idea that my father had money? He didn’t even have life insurance.”
Gabe didn’t say anything. He honestly looked kind of stunned.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “You look confused.”
Gabe cleared his throat. “I assumed about your father. I forget how young he was.”
He said the right thing, but I didn’t feel his words. Something else was on his mind. I thought it was odd, but I didn’t dwell
on it. I circled back to Ms. Kate’s suggestion. “I’m saying life was a little hard, but that’s not unique.”
Gabe still seemed to be reflecting deeply, but then his eyes sank into mine and I knew I had his full attention. “You’re unique,
Alex. Your perspective inside the situation. Your viewpoint.”
“You sound like Ms. Kate.”
“She talked me through a few things with Seasons.” He added, “I’m on the side of you digging into the historical story. Like you said, it’s all you read. You have to trust
your gift to make room for you.”
The scripture he’d referenced was my favorite: Proverbs 18:16, “A gift opens the way and ushers the giver into the presence
of the great.”
I’d believed my writing would make room for me—that if I kept showing up to the page, the work would eventually pay its own
way. Enough to live. Enough to keep going. Lately, that faith felt thin. And I didn’t think Gabe understood what that kind
of uncertainty felt like. “I don’t mean to make everything about money, but you had a big advance, Gabe. I need this contract
to survive.”
“I understand paying bills,” he said. “I have a writer in my circle who didn’t start like me, but money isn’t everything, Alex. And I have another kind of pressure.” Sadness flashed in his eyes. “Do you know how many times I wonder if I’m a one-book wonder?”
My guilt was instant. All I did was talk about my writing woes, not realizing this man did have pressure of his own. I gave him a small smile. “You’re not.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s time for a new topic.”
“Oh, we can talk about my hard topics but not yours.”
He chuckled again. “You’ve got it, baby.”
I smiled. Baby. My heart fluttered. Itching to go back to the place where he’d dropped his feelings off, I said, “So you’re missing me.”
“Obviously. I’m flying home Monday so I can take you out next week.”
“You made plans to fly home without checking if I was available? What do you take me for? A girlfriend?” I laughed but literally
begged him with my entire soul to say yes.
One of his eyebrows hitched up. “Don’t play with me, woman. I need to grab this ticket. Do you have time to have dinner with
your man or not?”
“My man. I like the sound of that.” I shrugged playfully. “I mean, if you’re willing to come this far . . .”
“Good.” He flipped his wrist and looked at his watch. “In the meantime, let’s break this up so you can get some words in and
I can get dressed for my event.”
“Sign lots,” I said, knowing he’d likely sign close to five hundred books because that was how many tickets were sold for
his talk.
Gabe tapped two fingers on his lips and blew me a kiss. “I’ll see you Monday.”
It bothered me that he thought he might be a one-book wonder. Now that I was done with my submission, I needed to see why hundreds of people lined up to read Seasons. I grabbed my copy and a tall glass of sweet tea and started reading. I cried my way through it. It was beautifully written,
but my man had suffered some great losses: the loss of his mother, the loss of the family land and his father, and finally,
the death of Erik in a boating accident. Each of these deaths represented a season in his life.
I closed it at 3:00 a.m., fully satisfied that I’d taken this journey with him but also determined to find out what my family’s
connection was to Edisto Island. Even though I was exhausted, I set my alarm to wake me at nine o’clock so I could get over
to the high school as soon as possible.