by Lily Flowers
In her dreams her lover had come to her; saying that he had followed her lead in deserting their London photo shoot. Saying that he had stood up for her finally, refusing to cast some skinny super model in a role obviously meant for her. Saying that he loved her, heart and soul, and begged her forgiveness.
Now she awoke alone in bed, miles away from Trey Lawrence, Blaine Bennington, and the creation of her book cover. And although she felt a sad, hollow feeling that could only be attributed to genuine heartbreak, she still sat straight up in bed and raised her chin high; knowing deep in her heart and mind that she had done the right thing.
As she rose restless from her bed and stretched her arms up high, she pondered her future plans; for while she still felt secure in her position at Elmhurst Publishing, she was not sure if she could bear to work side by side with the man who had let her down—breaking her heart in the process.
“And how am I supposed to promote a book with my name on it, that doesn’t reflect my vision—my message?” she pondered. “They say you should never judge a book by its cover—but we all know that people do. And when they pick up my book, they’ll be seeing the same big fat image of the same little, skinny gal. And ya know what? That just sucks.”
Her troubled meditation was disrupted by the sound of a knock on her door; one so strong and resounding that it brought her to her door in three quick strides.
Perhaps, she reasoned, her dream would come true. Perhaps Trey Lawrence stood on the opposite side of this door; ready to apologize and make things right. Ready to prove his love to her.
Or maybe Irving Birnbaum had finally gone completely over the edge, and had arrived at her door to stab her to death with the aid of a pre-sharpened letter opener. If Helena Vance had learned anything in life, it’s that things could go either way.
Feeling like she was trapped in a bizarre, real life version of the classic old board game Mystery Date, Helena opened her door to reveal Mr. None of the Above; and boy, did he ever look gorgeous.
“Blaine!” Helena beamed, flying headfirst into Blaine’s waiting arms as she stared into his eyes. “Are you back already?”
Blaine said nothing at first, instead leaning forward to grace her lips with a soft, sweet kiss.
“The shoot is wrapped,” he told her finally, adding as he reached into his jacket pocket, “And I could not wait for you to see the finished result.”
Helena gaped outright as Blaine produced a glossy color photo for her perusal; one that portrayed the handsome cover model in full Victorian costume, posing majestically against the beautiful backdrop of the palm trees at Kew Gardens.
“Blaine, this is just gorgeous,” Helena breathed, her eyes scanning and admiring the colorful, high definition photo. “This can’t be the cover of the book, though—I mean, where’s your British miss?”
Blaine shook his head.
“Oh, but you’re wrong Helena,” he corrected her with a gentle smile. “That shot is the one that will appear on the cover of your book; a male solo cover sure to appeal to the ladies. ALL of the ladies.”
Helena smiled.
“I-I love it,” her voice barely above a whisper. “Was this your idea, Blaine?”
Blaine sighed.
“I wish I could say it was,” he admitted.
Helena’s eyes flew wide as she realized a certain truth.
“This was Trey,” she whispered, more to herself than to Blaine.
“It just goes to show,” she added in silence. “The course of true love—and Helena Vance’s life—never does run smooth.”
The End
