UnWritten

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “Are you okay?” Sabrina asked when I winced getting up from my chair.

  “Yeah. Just pulled a muscle.” In my downstairs from having too much hot sex.

  “Oh, are you working out now?” Sabrina was a big fan of Pilates, yoga, yogalates, piloga and anything else of that nature. She’d been begging me to come and do hot yoga with her forever, but I thought it sounded like something they used in medieval times to torture women they thought were witches, so I’d always declined.

  “No, not really. I was just stretching last night and I think I pulled something.” That wasn’t completely made up. Declan had stretched me. So. Good.

  “Well, you should eat a banana. The potassium will help with that.”

  “Great, thanks. I’ll do that.” I hated bananas, but Sabrina was sweet and I didn’t want to be a bitch to her.

  “Oh my gosh, I read the best book last night. It was totally scandalous and I blushed nearly the whole time, but it was so good. And funny!” she said, clapping her hands together.

  “What was it called?” I asked as I put some of the books that needed to get re-shelved in call number order.

  “Dark Lovely by Scarlet Rose. It was sooooo good.” The books I’d been holding clunked to the floor.

  “Shit,” I said under my breath as Sabrina bent down to help me.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.” My voice had gotten high and weird again. I gave Sabrina a quick smile. “So, this book, it was really good?”

  “Oh my goodness, yes. Not to share too much information, but Ben definitely appreciates that I read it, if you know what I mean.” She gave me an exaggerated wink and then went to help a patron find a book for her nephew.

  I stayed on the floor for a minute, trying to get my heart under control. Sure, I knew that people read my books, but it was a whole other thing when someone I knew read them. Especially if they didn’t know I wrote them.

  I was still picking up books from the floor when Madeline did a sweep to make sure everything was running smoothly.

  “Just wanted to let you know that I ordered those replacement books so they should be here soon,” she said, as I got to my feet. Slowly.

  “Are you feeling any better?” she asked, her eyes flicking around to make sure we were alone. “Have you got your writing schedule sorted out?”

  “Um, I guess. It’s a work in progress. I feel like every book we write, we have to learn how to write all over again. It doesn’t feel like it gets easier.” Even though I didn’t want anyone to know about it, it was a relief to have someone who knew my secret, and be able to talk about things with.

  “I can’t even imagine. I write poems, but they’re never any good and they’re just for me. The idea of sharing them with anyone makes me break out in hives.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.

  “Well, you should see our first drafts. They’re pretty horrific.” Even thinking about edits for the book we were currently working on made my stomach turn. But we had to write the damn book first.

  “I’m sure that’s not the case, but it was sweet of you to say. Everything else going okay?” We chatted about work and other business and then Sabrina came to join us and we bounced around some ideas about new programs and special events we could have.

  I texted with Raine, who seemed to be in much better spirits. As if she’d been the one who got laid.

  She’d want to know everything, naturally. Every little detail. And under different circumstances, I’d give them to her. Privacy didn’t really have a place in our relationship. But I didn’t want to share everything about my date with Declan.

  The sex had been so . . . intimate. That seemed odd to say, but when I was with him, it was like he’d crawled under my skin. That we’d shared something deeper than just our bodies. I might have been reading into it, but this didn’t feel like the kind of relationship that would last for a few months and then fizzle out.

  I was probably just getting ahead of myself. Making more of it than it was. Besides, there were a lot of obstacles if this relationship was going to turn into something more. For one, the fact that I had a secret life he didn’t know about and for two, he had a son. No, I should stop thinking of this as more than it was. For now, we were just having fun.

  There was a box on my side of the desk when I got home that night. Raine had already changed into her writing attire, bun high on her head, but she greeted me with a wide smile and a hug as I set my bag down.

  “Oh my God. You have to tell me everything. But first, this came for you,” she said, indicating the box. “It’s from him.”

  “Thanks for ruining the surprise,” I said, eyeing the box. It was black and tied with a white ribbon, a dark red rose stuck through the bow. It was the sexiest wrapping job I’d ever seen.

  “What are you waiting for? Open it!” Raine clutched my shoulder and bounced on her heels. She sure knew how to live vicariously.

  I pulled the rose out, marveling at the color. It was so dark red it almost shaded to black. He’d said he didn’t get me flowers, but I loved this one. Setting it aside, I pulled the bow out of the ribbon and took the lid off the box. Nestled inside were several books. Of course.

  Flowers in the Attic, The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Briar Rose.

  “Oh. My. God. He got you book flowers. Fucking book flowers. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.” The books were tied together with another white ribbon. And then I saw that he’d written on the inside covers of the books.

  Last night was, I hope, the beginning of something. I opened the cover of the next book. Something that I have not felt in a while. I can’t wait . . . I opened the last book. . . . to see you again. —Declan.

  “How many blow jobs did you give him?” Raine said as I set the books back in the box.

  “That’s for me to know and you not to know.” I turned and looked at her. “I don’t want to share everything, and I definitely don’t think we should be putting it in the book. It feels wrong.”

  Raine looked at me as if I’d spoken in a made-up language.

  “Are you serious? You’re not going to tell me?” Well, I did want to share some of the details with my best friend. But I didn’t want to share them with my best friend, the author.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you with the condition that none of it goes in the book. I know I didn’t think this was going to be anything, but I don’t know. This feels different.” Saying it out loud made me feel like a moron, but Raine didn’t laugh at me.

  “Yeah, I can tell. This is the first time you haven’t wanted to share your sexual exploits. Okay, okay. I won’t put it in the book. At least not consciously.” We sat on the couch as I recounted the date, minus most of the steamy details, but Raine still hung on every word.

  “Okay, it sounds like you won the guy lottery. There must be something wrong with him, or else he’s the most perfect guy ever. It can only go one of two ways.” I agreed, and I hoped for the latter.

  “Thanks, Raine. That’s extremely helpful.”

  “Oh come on, I’m trying to be supportive. I’m so happy for you. I really am. I’d like to meet him, if that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, I think that would be good. I told him about you and I think he wants to meet you too. I’m seeing him again on Friday night, so you can see him when he picks me up.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “I have no idea. But it’s going to be rough topping the first date.” Raine started playing with my hair, taking it down from the elastic I’d pulled it back with this morning.

  “And the sex? You don’t have to tell me everything. But was it good?” I closed my eyes and leaned toward her so she could run her fingers through my hair.

  “Yeah. It was good.”

  “Do you think Dixon is British and that’s why we can’t connect with him?” Raine said later that night as we tried to salvage our book. I was excited to get writing. Maybe it was the sex. It unlocked my writing energy. They never
told you that in the writing manuals.

  “Are you trying to make him British, or is he British and we just weren’t aware of it?” Sometimes Raine had ideas and she wanted to force the characters to be something that they weren’t and I had a feeling this was one of those times.

  “The first one. Definitely,” she said, but she did that thing where she bit her bottom lip and I knew she was lying.

  “You realize if he’s British, that means we have to change his entire backstory, and British up his dialogue. That’s going to be a lot of work.”

  Her face fell as she realized the implications of changing everything we had already done.

  “No, you’re right. He’s not British. But he’s . . . something. We’re missing something vital about him.”

  “I think it’s time to whiteboard,” I said and she nodded grimly. When we had character issues, we wrote out everything we knew about the character on our giant whiteboard. It helped us get a better sense of who they were and why we were having issues. We hated doing it because admitting that we didn’t know our characters as well as we thought we did was almost like admitting defeat, which sucked. At least no one knew we did it besides us.

  I went to the closet and got out our giant whiteboard and propped it on the couch. I wrote Dixon’s full name at the top.

  “Okay, go.”

  “He’s 6’2”. Billionaire recluse who runs his own farm. Um, enjoys scotch, American football and women who argue with him,” Raine said, holding up one finger for each fact.

  “Okay, so does he have to be a billionaire?” I asked, looking at the whiteboard which was now crammed with my writing.

  “Billionaires are hot right now. And that’s what the publisher wants.” They’d given us parameters that they strongly suggested we stay within to go along with our other books.

  “Right, right. But maybe he made the money on his own. Maybe he’s a stock trading genius,” I said.

  Raine gave me a look.

  “Then we’d have to research stocks and we do not have time for that,” she pointed out. Crap. Well, that wasn’t going to work.

  “Okay, what other ways can you make a shit ton of money?”

  Raine snapped her fingers as if she’d had an epiphany.

  “Drug lord! He’s a drug lord!”

  “But we want people to fall in love with him. And I don’t think the publishers would like a criminal love interest. Unless he was reformed.” I met Raine’s eyes and we had the same thought at the same time.

  “He’s a reformed drug lord on the run from his past, so he buys the farm. Oh my God,” I said and Raine jumped out of her seat.

  “That’s it! That’s it!” We shared a jumpy screaming hug. We finally had it. After we finished our celebration, we got to work with feverish energy, going back to the beginning of the book and tweaking things to match the new revelation.

  “Sweet Jeebus, this is it. This is it, Walt!”

  “I know!”

  We wrote and edited until late that night and I didn’t even care if I was late for work the next day. Our book was back on track and I had a date with Declan on Friday. Things couldn’t be going any better.

  The high from finally getting the book on track lasted until I got a call very early Wednesday morning (or it might have been late Tuesday night) and I struggled out of bed to answer it. Either it was a drunk wrong number, or it was an emergency.

  “Hello?” I didn’t even try to sound awake.

  “Blair? It’s Madeline. I’m so sorry to call this late, but there’s been a fire at the library.”

  “Oh my God, is everything okay?” I snapped upright.

  “Well, they’ve put it out, but there’s definitely a lot of damage. It’s concentrated to the children’s room. They think it started tonight, so no one was here, thank God.”

  “Oh no.” Tears started pricking the corners of my eyes. No, no, no. This could NOT be happening. This must be a horrible dream. I’d had fire dreams before. This must be one. But it felt so real.

  “I’m so sorry, Blair. I just wanted to let you know as soon as possible.”

  “Do you need me to come down?” Madeline’s normally calm demeanor seemed rattled.

  “No, no. But the fire investigator should be coming tomorrow to assess the damage and determine the cause of the fire. He’ll probably have questions for everyone, so if you could be here around ten?”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need me to do.” I didn’t think I’d believe it until I saw it. Fires didn’t happen to my library.

  “Okay, okay. Listen, I have to go talk to the fire chief. I’ll see you in a few hours.” She hung up before I could say anything else.

  I sat in bed for what felt like hours, in complete shock. I imagined the beautiful room filled with books ravaged by fire. Oh my God, what were we going to do? How long was it going to take to rebuild or fix? Was I still going to have a job? How long would I be out of work?

  Before my mind could start spinning out of control, I got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass of wine. Most people would get a glass of water, but I think I needed something stronger.

  My hands shook as I got out one of our bigger glasses and I ended up dropping in on the floor and having to jump out of the way of shattering glass.

  “Shit!” I glanced toward Raine’s room, hoping I hadn’t woken her, but as I cleaned up the glass her door opened and she poked her sleep-rumpled head out.

  “What’s going on?”

  “There was a fire at the library. Madeline just called,” I said, sweeping the broken glass into the dustpan.

  “What? Are you serious?” She walked into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. “How bad was the damage?”

  “I don’t know.” I tossed the broken glass in the trash. “I don’t know.”

  “Aw, I’m so sorry.” Raine opened her arms and I hugged her, the tears finally coming.

  “I know I should be glad that no one was hurt and no one was there, and I am, but I just can’t believe this is happening.” My shoulders shook and Raine held me until I calmed down.

  “I have to go in tomorrow and see the damage and talk to the investigator. I can’t imagine what could have started it.” I wiped my eyes and Raine rubbed my shoulders.

  “I’m sure they’ll figure it out, and you haven’t even seen the damage. Maybe it’s not that bad. I’ll make you some tea and we can watch a movie or something.”

  “Wine,” I said. “Wine instead of tea.”

  “Wine. Go it.”

  We spent the rest of the night going through an expensive bottle of red that I’d had stashed away for the next time when we had friends over. That had never really happened, so the bottle had a little bit of dust on it.

  I told Raine she needed to go to bed, but she refused, saying that she was taking another sick day to be with me.

  “It’s not like someone died,” I said. “Should I be this upset? I mean, we can buy new books and rebuild.”

  “You can be as upset as you want. I’m not gonna judge you. You’re talking to the girl who cries during every proposal on The Bachelor. Even if I know that the couple is already broken up. Still gets me every time.” That was true. Raine did tend to get emotional about things.

  We ended up falling asleep snuggled together on my bed, reruns of one of The Real Housewives playing softly in the background.

  Raine woke me up the next morning (or at least it was several hours after Madeline called me) by setting a tray of eggs and bacon and a mimosa on my bed.

  “Good morning. I made you breakfast.” I stretched and felt the effects of the wine consumption. Tea would have been a better choice, but I couldn’t turn back the clock now.

  “Thanks, babe. I really appreciate it. Yes, you can have some.” She’d been eyeing my bacon. She flopped down on the edge of my bed and grabbed a piece.

  “You feeling okay?”

  “I guess? I mean, I don’t know. I’m in shock. I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
My stomach was in knots, but I ate the food anyway because Raine had made it.

  “You mean when we get there. I’m going with you. Moral support.”

  “You’re the best, you know that?”

  She chomped down on my last piece of bacon.

  “I know.”

  Raine held my hand as we got out of the car and walked toward the library. Yellow police tape crisscrossed in front of the door, and I saw Madeline standing out front and talking with a tall man with a clipboard.

  “Madeline!” I called and she turned around. Even in crisis, she was put together. I’d just thrown some pants on, put my hair in a bun and hadn’t even bothered with makeup.

  She gave me a huge hug and patted my back.

  “Blair, this is Bob Fosman, the fire investigator.” He shook my hand and started asking me questions about the building and what I’d done before I locked up.

  “How did it start?” I asked. He looked up from his clipboard where he’d been jotting things down.

  “We’re not sure yet, but we think it originated in the courtyard. Maybe a stray cigarette butt. We’ll still have to do a full investigation, but that’s my best guess right now.”

  “Crazy how something that small can start a fire. Can we see the damage?” I asked. He shook his head.

  “We have to wait until all the potential hotspots are out, so it will be at least until tomorrow before we can let you in.” He went back to talking with Madeline and then Sabrina showed up and gave me a huge hug. Soon all of the librarians and some volunteers showed up and Raine volunteered to go on a coffee run around the corner for everyone.

  Most of the day was spent talking and trying to figure out what we were all supposed to do. Madeline called a meeting and announced that, for right now, we were closed. Until the insurance company could assess the damage and figure out how much it was going to cost to fix it.

  So I was jobless for the time being. At least I wouldn’t be paycheck-less. Good thing I had something to fall back on. But I was going to miss the kids and being surrounded by books. And I’d miss seeing sweet Drake and his increasing love for reading.