Writing Mr. Right

by Wright, Michaela

  Writing

  Mr. Right

  By

  Michaela Wright

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  Copyright © 2015 Michaela Wright

  All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Has she been awake at all?”

  The nurse, Carolina, glanced over her shoulder as she checked Nana’s pulse. Carolina’s skin was dark and warm, and seemed to glow from within, all the more so when she smiled. “She ate breakfast this morning without any help. We’re having a good day.”

  With that, the nurse slipped out of the room and Georgia pulled her chair up to sit beside her Grandmother’s bed. She settled there, clutching this precious thing in her arms – her book. It wasn’t done. It wasn’t close to done, but it was being written. Finally, she was writing.

  “Hello, my beautiful girl.”

  Georgia startled, looking up into the sleepy eyes of her grandmother, Minnie. The plastic tube was tucked up under her nose, and her gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail beneath her. She was wrapped in her favorite sweater, white and soft around her shoulders.

  Nana slumped her arm off the side of the bed to hold Georgia’s hand. “Have you come to read to me like I asked?”

  Georgia took her hand, squeezing it, feeling the knots of each knuckle. “I have.”

  Nana smiled and settled into her pillows. Georgia set the pages in her lap and began to read.

  I was floating there in the dark, staring up at the stars. The water was too cold, and I knew it. I floated in silent acceptance – those stars would be the last thing I would ever see.

  I startled, nearly swallowing the sea as a hard object bumped into my shoulder. I flipped over in the dark water, my arms and legs slamming into the rough surface – rocks. Rocks. I’d reached land.

  I scrambled for purchase. Each rock was covered in the slime of seaweed, but beneath that, barnacles and jagged shards of shell cutting into my hands and feet. A wave crested, carrying me further up the rocks, but it soon receded, pulling me along with it.

  What a crime this was of Mother Nature to bring me within reach of salvation, then dance me away from it, too weak with cold to pull from my partner. I curled my fingers into the weeds, feeling them pull free from the rocks as another wave pulled me towards the sea. I roared in grief, realizing I would drown just inches from dry land.

  “Need a hand, lass?”

  I startled, searching in the dark for the source of the voice. I met his gaze, and sighed with relief as my green eyed salvation took my hand and pulled me ashore.

  “Oh, I like him. Green eyed salvation.”

  Nana was smiling, eyes still closed, listening along to every word. Georgia read to her for an hour, glancing up to see if she was still awake, still listening. Her voice began to grow tight with use, but Georgia continued reading as she’d promised. Finally, she reached the first steamy scene, and she stopped, skimming along the pages to find the next PG13 section.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  Nana was awake.

  Georgia shook her head. “It gets kinda steamy there, so I’m jumping -”

  “You read those damn pages, girl. I’m not long for this world. Give an old woman something to smile about.”

  Georgia chuckled, frowning. “You might like steamy scenes, but I’m not too keen on reading them to you. Especially when I wrote them.”

  This was no bodice ripper scene with euphemisms and poetry. Georgia went all in with her love scenes – all in.

  “Do as you’re told, you willful thing,” Nana said, eyes closed still despite her stern expression.

  Georgia took a deep breath and continued reading. Five minutes later, the scene was done, and Georgia looked up from the book to find Nana smiling and Carolina standing in the doorway, brows high, fanning herself in appreciation.

  Georgia felt her face turning bright red.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but your other granddaughter is here, sweetheart.”

  Georgia tucked the manuscript into her bag and rose to greet her baby sister, Samantha. She was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and looked as though she’d just gotten out of bed. It wasn’t the happiest time in either of the Kilduff sisters’ lives.

  “You two girls - why do you seem so sad, the two of you?”

  Georgia knew the answer to this for both of them. Georgia’s beloved Walter, the man she was sure the fates had chosen for her, was behaving strangely. He’d gone from doting and affectionate to almost completely absent upon hearing that her beloved grandmother was sick. Samantha was a recent college dropout, her depression having kicked back in after a switch in medication.

  Then above everything else, Nana was sick.

  “We’re fine, Nana. I’m fine. Just tired, is all,” Sam said, giving her as tight a hug as Nana’s fragile frame could take.

  “You’re both full of shit, what’s wrong?”

  Sam laughed. “It’s nothing. Just worried about you.”

  Nana waved a hand. “Well enough of that. I’m as happy as I’ve ever been. I get to see your Papa soon. I get to see my parents, my Cymbeline.”

  Georgia smiled. Cymbeline was a cat, and she’d been dead for thirteen years. It was true, she was a pretty special cat.

  “Your sister was just reading to me from her bestseller,” Nana said, gesturing a gnarled hand toward Georgia.

  Sam glanced over at Georgia, brows high. “You’re writing? Man, that’s awesome, Gigi.”

  Georgia took a deep breath. “I’m trying. It’s helping with my – eh mood.”

  “It’s set in Scotland,” Nana said, smiling.

  Samantha laughed. “Of course it is. Wonder if this one’ll come true, too.”

  Georgia scoffed, but Nana was taking Sam’s hand. “Here, hand me my cards.”

  Nana pointed to her bags, tucked into the corner of the room. Samantha protested, but did as she was told, bringing Nana’s old canvas bag to the bed. A moment later, Nana’s gnarled hands were curled around her tarot cards, the smell of incense still drifting from their surface.

  “Right, let’s see what they have to say.”

  Samantha shook her head. Though she’d believed in Nana’s magic as a child, growing up and feeling troubled much of the time had nearly robbed her of her mysticism. Georgia settled down in her seat. Georgia could grow to be an old woman, she would still love to have Nana read her cards.

  Minnie Kilduff shuffled to the best of her ability, then flipped a card into her lap, letting it slide down the folds of the blanket. Georgia could only see the corner, but she recognized it - The Star. Nana flipped a few more cards, hummin
g to herself in agreement or excitement, or even foreboding. Georgia simply waited. She would let Nana tell her what they meant.

  Nana glanced over to Samantha, then to Georgia. “Everything is going to be alright.”

  Samantha snorted, turning away from the bed.

  “You’re both going to have success. Great success from the looks of it.”

  “You’ve always said that,” Samantha said, her lips pinched tight.

  “Yes, and it’s always been true. I’m telling you now, it’s coming soon. For both of you. Even bigger than I thought.” Nana tapped the cards. “Don’t pretend you don’t believe in this anymore, Samantha Kilduff. You know as well as I do that you’re like me. You both are. Make the things you want happen.”

  Samantha leaned against the doorjamb. “Yeah, tell me how. I’ll get right on it.”

  “You -” Nana pointed a crooked finger at Samantha. “- you cut that sour puss. Speak of only what you want. For what you speak comes to be. And you -”

  Nana turned to Georgia, reaching out a hand. Georgia took it.

  “You’re like your Mama. You watch what you write. You know this, I know you do. Write only what you want, sweetheart. Write happy stories with happy endings. You’ll have your own soon enough.”

  Georgia shook her head, thinking of Walter’s strange behavior, of the constant push and pull of his moods. She’d done as Nana taught her, writing her wishes down every chance she got. Still, despite the dozens of times she wrote ‘I have my true love’ on every note pad or post-it she could find, Walter kept pulling away.

  To add insult to injury, now Walter was pulling away when she needed him most. This time felt cruel.

  “You know I don’t have the best luck when it’s my own happy ending, Nan,” Georgia said.

  Nana smiled. “Sometimes land is closer than you think.”

  Georgia gave a sad smile, glancing toward the manuscript on the table.

  Samantha moved across the room, coming closer to the bed to look. “So what does it say? I’m going to succeed? How?”

  Nana pointed at the cards and shrugged. “I don’t know how. It simply says it is coming.”

  “What about me?” Georgia asked, leaning in. “Am I ever going to marry my soul mate, make babies, live happily ever after?”

  Nana smiled, patting Georgia’s hand. “Success comes for you both.”

  Georgia sat back down in her chair. “Success doesn’t necessarily mean love, does it?”

  Nana shook her head. “It means everything you want it to.”

  Georgia nodded, taking a deep breath.

  “Soul mates always find their way to each other, my dear. In every life. And you know you have one.”

  “Do I?”

  Nana smiled, glancing down at the cards. She tapped her hand on the King of Wands. “You know you do. And the cards say you’ve already met him, too.”

  Georgia glanced up at her, feeling strangely serene to hear her conjure woman of a grandmother say such things. If she’d already met him, then Walter would come around. He’d stop with the back and forth and make it all right. He’d be there for her when he was ready.

  “Now take these away, sweetheart,” Nana said, collecting the cards and handing them to Samantha. “I think I’d like Georgia to read to me while I relax and wait for my lunch. Will you stay?”

  Samantha nodded. “Of course.”

  The three of them settled in, Georgia scanning the typed page for the last line she’d read. She took a deep breath and began to read, delving into the world of piracy, bootlegging, and kidnapping that she’d inadvertently wandered into while sitting at her laptop trying not to think of Nana, or her mother, or Walter Timlin.

  Nana slept through lunch.

  By supper, she was gone.

  Georgia found herself wandering the halls of Emerson Hospital in a daze. Dad was on his way to the hospital, and Samantha was outside, smoking her thirteenth cigarette. Georgia had texted Walter, telling him she needed the comfort of his voice. If he would just put his arms around her, everything would be alright. She could get through it with that pillar to lean against.

  She clutched her hand around her phone for the full hour it took him to text back. She stood a few feet from the nurse’s station as the text came in.

  It isn’t healthy for you to seek me right now. You need to be with people who love you, and I don’t. I’m sorry.

  Georgia stared at the screen of her phone, and the whole world vanished around her. None of this was real. A man couldn’t be that cruel, could he? It couldn’t be real.

  Georgia felt arms around her shoulders, and turned to find Carolina at her side, holding her as she crumpled to the floor in tears.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two Years Later

  The plane rumbled beneath her as the wheels touched down on Edinburgh International Airport. The G’s had barely settled when her cell phone began to ding incessantly in her purse. Georgia kept count – one, two, four. The ringtone began to trip over itself in reaction to the deluge of texts, all from her well-meaning assistant.

  Christ, Cassie. I’ve only been gone seven hours. Chill the hell out.

  Georgia leaned down and snapped the phone up, shutting off the ringer so her seat mate wouldn’t hear just how psychotic her assistant was. Georgia glanced at the older gentleman beside her – a gray haired Scot from Inverary who liked to let his nose hair grow a little long. He gave her an eyebrow wiggle and she turned her attention to the phone.

  Call Burgess.

  Sam says apartment is clear. I’ll pick up deposit on way home.

  Another review in Entertainment Weekly. A-!!

  Call Burgess as soon as you land.

  They want to know if you’d be alright adding a third stop in Inverness.

  Scotland must like you or something.

  Two interview requests in Edinburgh. Will you have time? Call me as soon as you land.

  Have you landed?

  It says you haven’t landed. Call me when you get these.

  It says you landed.

  Despite the barrage, Georgia chuckled as she pulled up Cassie’s contacts and pressed send.

  “Oh thank God, you landed!”

  Georgia rubbed the unsatisfying plane sleep from her eyes. “Just. Still on the plane. Why? Was there ever any doubt?”

  “I don’t know. No. Still, I just get antsy sometimes.”

  “You don’t say?”

  Cassie unleashed the text worthy information anew and Georgia yawned. They’d arrived at 8:45 am, but for her it was 3:45 am, and she was riding on less than forty five minutes of fitful sleep, curled up beside Snores McGee of the catastrophic nose hair. She sniffled softly, grumbling at the thought of coming down with something.

  “So your car should be in arrivals for you. They’ll take you to the Hyatt in New Town. Your first signing isn’t until tomorrow morning – car will arrive at nine, but the newspaper has asked for an interview this evening. It can be done by phone. Are you going to sleep all day?”

  Georgia closed her eyes. It was too early in the morning for this kind of energy, and what the hell was Cassie doing still up, anyway?

  “How many Lattes have you had today, Cassie?”

  “All of them.”

  Georgia laughed. “Thought so. Yeah, I’ll probably try to catch a nap when I arrive.”

  “Good. That’s good. And you’re not gonna go on Facebook, are you?”

  “No, why?” Georgia asked, mid yawn.

  “No reason. Just curious.”

  Georgia paused. “Why, Cass? What’s on Facebook?”

  “Nothing. Just curious. Was just updating the account for you, didn’t want to double post.”

  Georgia shifted in her seat, pulling her iPad from her bag as the plane taxied into its gate. She considered the Scottish data charges, but then remembered the fat check she’d be receiving from her publisher when the royalties for the follow up novel t
o her current best-seller came in - a best-seller no one, least of all her, ever saw coming.

  She could afford a little Scottish data.

  Two seconds later, Facebook was open. Georgia stared at the screen in silence.

  “Georgia? Are you getting off the plane yet?”

  Georgia didn’t answer. She just stared at the screen, trying to decipher this physical pain she felt in her chest. The feed on her Facebook had its usual drivel and nonsense and hilarity, but peppered in amongst the mundane and unimportant were wedding pictures. Not just any wedding pictures – his wedding pictures.

  He got married. Walter fucking ‘Sorry your Nan died, rot in hell’ Timlin got married.

  “Gigi? Why did you go quiet? Tell me you’re not looking at Facebook.”

  Georgia swallowed. “I’m not looking at Facebook.”

  “You are! Damn it, Georgia! Are you ok?”

  Georgia took a moment to think about it, but before she could decipher, the fasten seat belt sign turned off and passengers surged to their feet, collecting their things and heading out into the world. Her misery would have to wait.

  “Hey, they’re letting us off. I’ll call when I’m at my hotel, alright?”

  “Remember, you marry your Douglas MacCready.”

  “Yeah, so you say.”

  “Gigi, don’t be upset. He’s a douche bag. He married a shrew. He deserves what he got.”

  “Do I deserve what I got?”

  With that, Georgia’s throat grew tight and she hung up the phone. Then, she quickly tucked her belongings into her purse and slipped out of her seat, the crowd held at bay for her by the gracious Mr. Nose hair.

  She managed to make it to the airport bathroom before the tears set in.

  The Hyatt was everything she could hope for. Her room had a gorgeous view of the city, but more importantly, it had black out curtains, much to her relief. Georgia had every intention of sleeping the day away. It didn’t go as planned.

  Walter Timlin, the man she’d once thought perfect, was married.