The Write Escape

by Charish Reid

  “Yes?”

  “Jean Paul isn’t going to die, is he?”

  Antonia bit her lip, fighting the urge to laugh. Tears stood out in her eyes as she glanced from him to the book. “Oh god, Aiden.”

  “Please,” he said in a calm voice. “They’re perfect for one another, but if the duke tries to eliminate Jean Paul to get to Claudette, I don’t know if I can keep going.”

  “I’m not going to tell you the ending; just know that it’s an HEA.”

  He frowned. “What’s an HEA?”

  “Happily-ever-after.”

  Aiden nodded and sighed. “Okay, good. Why are you giving me that look?”

  Antonia averted her gaze and went back to her laptop, her grin growing wider as she shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  Aiden was enjoying himself. She had been typing feverishly, only stopping for drinks of coffee or to jot something down in her notebook. Her enthusiasm for her work was a sight to behold. He hadn’t felt excitement about his own writing in years, but he remembered the heady moments of victory from the past. Watching someone else create pages of fiction out of thin air was akin to witnessing alchemy. In his short time knowing Antonia, Aiden felt proud to be beside her while she crafted a story. “I do have another question though.”

  Her eyes cut to his with a smirk. “Hm?”

  “I notice the author keeps referring to Claudette’s vagina as a quim...”

  “Jesus.” Antonia sank in her seat.

  “Is this a genre-specific thing?” he asked, holding back a grin. “Are you not supposed to say what you mean?”

  She covered her face with one hand as she trained her eyes on her screen. “Of course the author can’t say...vagina,” she whispered. “This is historical romance.”

  He was taking the piss, but he couldn’t help himself. The crimson blooming in her cheeks was tantalizing. Aiden leaned forward. “But you’re writing contemporary, right? What will you call it?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far,” she said in a curt tone.

  “What are you going to call Bryon’s, you know...cock?”

  Redness settled onto her face as she shot him a glare. “I don’t know.”

  “Well I’ve read, at length, about Jean Paul’s...length. Do you think you might try that?”

  “I might?” she squeaked. “I don’t know.”

  “The author also calls it a—” Aiden flipped through the book. “A generous rod that would not be spared.”

  This made her smile. “I’m trying not to get hung up on the terminology right now.”

  “I’m sure it will come to you over time.” He flashed her a smile and thought about kissing her again. Aiden enjoyed surprising her with kisses. Judging by her reaction, she seemed to enjoy it too. He found it difficult to keep his hands off her. Every glance she gave him, every smile, made him ache with want. Her silent dark eyes dropped back to her screen as she let out a tired sigh. “What are you thinking about?”

  “While I’m having a lovely time in Ireland, I wonder how my friend Eddie is doing,” she said. A shadow of sadness in her eyes as she spoke.

  A twinge of envy shot through Aiden. “Who’s Eddie?”

  Antonia propped her chin on her fist. “He’s my best friend from college. We worked for Wild Hare Publishing until it fell apart.”

  He nodded, pushing aside his possessive feelings. “You haven’t told me much about that job,” he said.

  “There’s not much to tell I’m afraid,” she began. “He and I started working there out of school. It started out nice enough I guess, but apparently poor management can tank anything. Eddie warned me that there was something wrong with our boss, Richard, but I think I was too distracted with other things. No matter what kind of editing I did, the books we pushed through were failing in quality. The last straw was probably Starman.”

  Aiden frowned. “Starman? Like the Bowie song?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Exactly. I told Richard it was a terrible idea. I know there’s no copyright on titles, but come on. Who would sign off on that?”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Anyway, Eddie can fall back on his girlfriend’s salary for a while, but I worry he might fall into a depression.” She paused to stare into space. “He gets like that sometimes. A little somber and in his head.”

  “Mmh.” Aiden nodded. “It’s rough, but I’ll bet you two will find something new. What do you think you’ll do when you get back?” He didn’t want to think about her going back home. He didn’t want the real world to encroach on what they shared. But real boyfriends asked about these things and Aiden definitely felt like he was in the running for the title of Antonia’s potential boyfriend.

  “Oh lord,” she said with a tired smile. “I don’t want to think about that. I’m only a few days into my vacation. The only stress that I want to sort out is baking a cake.”

  He was relieved to hear that. “That’s understandable,” he said. But there would come a time where she’d have to think about her life back home, that was only sensible. “Do you think you’ll be able to put more work into your book?”

  “My book,” she said with a grin. “It’s hard for me to even call it that. I don’t know what I’m doing with my story, if it will even become a book. Things were a lot easier when I didn’t have to think about it.”

  “It was easier to rely on a job that made you unhappy?”

  “I don’t think working at Wild Hare made me unhappy...it was just stressful.”

  “How much time did you spend writing while you worked there?” he asked, taking a sip of coffee. “Was it a distraction from what you really wanted to do?”

  She paused with a slight frown. “I had to work. I also had to plan a wedding.”

  He nodded thoughtfully before replying. “I see that.” He tried to tread lightly. “It’s just that I’ve been reading the drama of Claudette and her well-hung farm boy, and while it’s good, I know you can do better. I think you have genuine talent, Antonia.”

  “Sure,” she said with a confused expression. “I’d love to be that person who could just sit in a country cottage clacking away on a novel, but I have to eat.”

  She had a point. There was such a thing as a starving artist, but Aiden also knew how easy it was to give up a dream. When Antonia worked or described her book to him, he could tell she got high on her own creativity. It was so simple to dismiss that feeling in favor of practicality. “If you could sit in the country and write, would you really?”

  Antonia rolled her eyes. “It’s hard to think about it like that when it’s still a hobby.”

  “This can’t just be a hobby,” he tried. “Your book can’t be like building a model airplane.”

  She sat up straight in her chair. “Okay, it’s different, but without a clear idea of what kind of time I can spend on a novel, I’d rather keep it at hobby level.”

  “Look, as I see it, you’ve got so many things working in your favor: you were in publishing. You’ve already got the industry connections, you already understand how the submission process works.” He ticked the points off on his fingers. “Plus, I read some of your book. You’re a damn good writer, darling.”

  Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “You what?”

  Aiden winced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I couldn’t resist a peek.”

  “This is incredibly personal,” she hissed, the redness in her face no longer from his teasing. She appeared genuinely angry with his intrusion. “I haven’t even let my best friend read this and you thought you could just sneak a peek?”

  Okay, he definitely fucked up. “Would it help if I told you that you were brilliant?”

  Antonia’s brow knotted. “No, it wouldn’t,” she said. “You’ve basically read my diary. A diary where I fumble around in the dark while trying to describe
men’s cocks. It’s not exactly something I’d show a man who I’ve only known for four days. And please don’t think you can tell me what to do with my career after I’ve just been fired. Derek did enough of that and I wouldn’t mind thinking for myself for a change.”

  She’s comparing me to that arse? As far as he was concerned, he’d given her no reason to believe he was a cheater or a liar. “Please don’t think I presume to know everything about you, but I know I’m not this idiot Derek. I’m actually being supportive” he said, trying to temper his frustration. “I’m only suggesting lessons I’ve learned over time. Having confidence in your ability is really important for someone in your field.”

  “I’m not in a field yet, Aiden. I haven’t even finished this book.” She glared at him again, her eyes narrowed and burning with irritation. “I’m sure the cozy world of academia has its fair share of stressors. Let’s see, before the summer is over you need to write an eight-page conference paper and a book proposal? My biggest concern is finding a job when I get back to America.”

  “I can’t believe you want to scrap about this.” He swallowed her low blow and a sip of coffee with a grimace before replying. “Shots weren’t fired, Antonia. No need to return them.”

  She straightened her back and stared him down. “I’m not firing shots, Aiden. I’m trying to explain how this book and my career is none of your business.”

  “You might be a little sensitive about this,” he said. “You’re still very close to the situation. It just happened.”

  She nodded, not in agreement, but as if she were gearing up for a good old-fashioned public row in a coffee shop. “So I’m sensitive now?”

  “I didn’t call you sensitive, I said you might be a little sensitive about this.” He punctuated his words for clarity but she was beyond listening. “I’m saying that the timing of this is part of the issue.” He finished his coffee and set his mug down on the tabletop with a loud thud.

  “I think we better go home,” she said, closing her laptop. How in the hell did that just happen? Only moments ago, he’d been enjoying her company with a good book and warm scone. They’d been basking in the final rays of sunshine before the metaphorical clouds blew in. And now he had to drive her back in angry silence. Aiden stood up and dog-eared the page where he’d left off before following her out the door. He sincerely thought he was being helpful when he encouraged her more confidence in her ability. Although he didn’t want to think about her going back to America, it was unreasonable not to think about her future in general. After all, she was indeed unemployed at the moment. My god, I’m not telling her how to run her damn life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Is this man telling me how to run my damn life? Antonia slammed cabinet doors as she put away her groceries. She angrily stuffed bags into the garbage and stalked through her cottage like a mad woman. Antonia was absolutely livid by his suggestion that she was being sensitive. The fucking nerve of him. “I didn’t even want to talk about it.” He was a fucking paper grader for god’s sake. Hell, she’d done that when she was in graduate school. She taught two freshman composition classes while she took a full course load and wrote her thesis.

  “Oh, that’s rich,” she muttered, returning to the kitchen. She looked at the counter where a pile of baking ingredients sat, taunting her with their uselessness. “Confidence?” she scoffed. “You think confidence is baking a goddamn cake?”

  She glanced at the garbage can and thought for a moment how satisfying it would be to toss all this shit in the trash. Antonia instead stomped back to the living room. The nerve, she thought as she turned the television on. How could someone be so gorgeous and such a mansplainer at the same time? How could he go from kissing her tenderly in the grocery store to telling her about her business with such...smug confidence?

  While flipping through the seven channels offered on her old-fashioned television set, Antonia could hear the growing thud of music from next door. She paused, remote in hand, and listened carefully as the speakers next door boomed. It was a familiar tune that she tried to place while she simmered in anger.

  What is that? She drifted back toward her bedroom, where Aiden’s cottage connected. The familiar guitar riff was apparent when she stopped at the bathroom. It was The Guess Who... “American Woman.” Christ, what a jerk.

  Two can play this petty game. She plugged in her laptop and scrolled through her own music library. “Ah-hah,” she cried triumphantly. She clicked on Beyoncé’s Lemonade, cranked the volume up as high as it could go, and let the album play on repeat. If war was what he wanted, she could certainly give it to him. No one could outsing Beyoncé and Antonia would prove it.

  She closed the bedroom door and strode back to the living room where it was quieter. Sitting at the dinner table, she turned up the volume on the Irish news and waited for victory. When her phone rang, she swore under her breath. She was not in the mood to talk to anyone. But upon closer inspection, she saw that it was Eddie. Antonia sighed and received the call.

  “Hi, Ed,” she said, turning down the news.

  “How’s your trip going?” he asked, sounding enthusiastic. “Do you love it there?”

  Antonia made herself close her eyes and count to five before answering. “It’s fine,” she said carefully.

  “Try to sound a little more excited.”

  “I’m more interested in how you’re doing?” she said. Eddie was always there when she needed to vent. In the last few weeks, that’s all she’d managed to do when they saw one another. She worried that she was quickly becoming one of those friends who only brought bad news to the table. “How are you and Megan doing?”

  “Oh, we’re good,” he said. “She helped me get my CV together and now I’ve got three interviews next week. She reminded me that I’m ready for something more than editing.”

  “You are,” Antonia said, her mood lightening with his good news. “I’ve always thought you were ready for management.”

  “Thanks, Toni. Even though I had a feeling the ship was going down, I guess I just didn’t know what else to do. Megan calls it “Chicken Little” syndrome.”

  Antonia laughed. “How much time has Megan been spending with my sister?” She hadn’t realized how much she missed her friend. Talking to him steadied her nerves.

  “A fair amount of time actually. I hate to say it, but those two know how to dismantle a wedding. I’ve never seen Megan shout down a DJ before, but it kind of turned me on.”

  Antonia couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, did she make him cry?”

  “Probably?” Eddie said. “I don’t ever want to be on the receiving end of that.”

  “Aww, you just watch out.”

  “She and Octavia canceled everything without penalty, except for the cake. You’re going to have to eat that cost. Excuse the pun.”

  Antonia was amazed and relieved. There were many frivolous items that Derek’s parents paid for, but the cake had definitely been her responsibility. She could take that hit. “I’m just glad that you’re doing well,” she said honestly.

  “Oh, of course. Wild Hare wasn’t where I was supposed to be,” he said. “I might not have a job yet, but I know that getting laid off was for the best. And it’s probably good for you too.”

  “I don’t know about all of that,” she said. “You might find a job faster than I do.”

  “Sure, but you’ve got a good savings account. I do not. You should be focusing your energy on your novel.”

  This conversation was veering uncomfortably close to the argument she had with Aiden. “I don’t know what will come of the book,” she said in a tired voice.

  Eddie sighed. “You say that, but I know you, Toni. Out of all of us in grad school, you published more short stories and poetry. You stopped writing because of publishing.”

  “We had good years there,” Antonia said defensively. “We learned a lot at Wi
ld Hare.”

  He scoffed. “Yep, I learned to always keep my CV updated. Come on, Toni. You have to admit it: the world is no better for the shit we published. Now if you had the confidence to finish your book, we’d be cooking with gas. If I get another publishing job, I’ll definitely push it to the front of the line.”

  There was that word again. Confidence. When did everyone think she was just a shrinking violet who avoided all challenging tasks? “Well I had the guts to come out here by myself, didn’t I?” she asked.

  “Definitely,” he agreed. “It was a ballsy move. I’m proud of you.”

  His comment disarmed her for a second. “Huh?”

  “I mean it, I was so proud of you when you told me,” he said. “Megan was so excited for you to have some space to just write.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Eddie asked. “You sound edgy.”

  Antonia rubbed the space between her brows and closed her eyes. “Oh nothing,” she said wearily. “I just got into an argument earlier and some of the stuff you’re saying sounds familiar.”

  “Oooh, is it that guy Octavia told me about? Are you already getting into fights with your neighbors?” Eddie asked with a laugh. “That sounds a little too Irish for my taste.”

  “She told you about my neighbor?” Antonia asked, incredulous. “Why are you two talking so much?”

  “We’re all friends, Toni,” he reminded her. “So who’s this neighbor?”

  Antonia reluctantly explained the whole thing to her best friend. When she was finished, he gave a thoughtful “mmh,” and proceeded to keep it real with her.

  “Are you serious?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it sounds like he was asking you legitimate questions and you flipped out on him.”

  “I didn’t flip out on him,” Antonia protested.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like he took an interest in what you do by reading a book you recommended, and you’re angry because he made you think about your future?”