by Lauren Runow
“Who’s there?” Mom asks again, walking toward the door.
I move to the side, so she can see. “You remember my neighbor, Jake.”
She waves him over and holds an arm out for him to take a seat. “Come in! Join our conversation.”
“About what?” he asks with a furrowed brow.
“You don’t want to be part of this,” I explain as he crosses the threshold.
“Nonsense.” My mom waves me off. “We were just discussing how men are probably better off with roaming through life rather than being held down to one woman.”
With an ease in his walk, he heads inside and takes a seat on my sofa. “I’m intrigued.”
“I was telling Lacey how her books give women false notions of romance.”
“How so?” he asks.
“With my books filled with fluff and romance, Mom thinks I’m filling their heads with fantasy when I should be handing them reality.”
“Your mom does have a point,” he says, turning to me. “My sister Penelope has watched The Notebook a thousand times, and she’s still waiting for her real-life Noah to build her a house as an undying testament of his love and affection.”
“See?” Mom says with a cheeky grin.
“However”—he pivots toward Mom—“my mother and sisters love Lacey’s words, and I think they’re better for reading them,” Jake says proudly as he sits a little taller, like he’s protective of me.
“They read my books?” I ask him, not sure how I feel about his mom reading my words.
He grins. “Yeah. After you came by the shop, my mom bought them each a copy on Amazon, and they read together, like a mini book-club thing. You have three new fans.”
“You said you think they’re better for reading her books?” she asks him.
“My mother gave me an earful about it while we were at the shop. She thinks Lacey is brilliant.”
“Really?” I ask, turning to him, surprised and completely touched.
“Milène too. Penelope read three of your books in as many days. That girl is already cyberstalking you on social media, so beware when your inbox blows up with love notes.”
“I’ll consider myself warned.” I chuckle under my breath.
Jake crosses his leg over his knee and engages my mother in conversation. “I don’t know or understand the female brain, but I think, with romance—particularly the books that Lacey writes—it helps women escape the reality of kids and work and household chores and brings them back to what it was like when they first met their husbands. At least that’s what my sister said. It reminded her of the good days and how that love is still there even if it’s buried somewhere in the craziness of life. As for my other sister who is single, I think it will give her hope, albeit a false sense in some ways, but at least she has that notion that love is out there.”
My smile is a mile wide as I listen to him speak.
“I like you, Jake. You’re very diplomatic. I’d love to know, why aren’t you married?”
He makes a pretend gesture, as if he’s going to get up and leave because the conversation turned uncomfortable, then takes his seat again. “I just haven’t found the right woman.”
“Picky?” she asks.
“Very,” he states with a laugh. “I’m not the type to settle, so I’m waiting until I’m with the right girl.”
His eyes meet mine, and I instantly take a drink from my mug, which is now empty.
“Looking for the right woman … so in the meantime, you’re having a blast with all the wrong ones?” Mom chuckles.
He grins. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t string anyone along. I date and dare-I-say I’ve even loved a few. But I’ve never been in love. If I don’t feel like I can make that life-long commitment, then I make sure to let them know.”
Mom snaps her fingers and points one at me. “That. Have you ever written a character who treats women like that?”
I turn toward my computer and grimace. I have actually. As in right now. My hero is a romantic who refuses to settle, so he’s dating his way around the city, waiting for the perfect woman.
In this moment, I realize just how much of my hero has been based off of not only my interactions with Jake lately, but also him in general.
“Maybe I should hang out with Jake more often to get some inspiration,” I say.
“That sounds like a plan.” He swings his arm over the back of the sofa.
The three of us spend the next hour talking about all the real men I should be writing. I’m laughing so hard at the crazy ideas Mom and Jake come up with together. From Bill, the flatulent barber, to Chaz, the guy who sits in his living room and talks to his parakeet all day, only to hear the words, “Yes, master.”
I’m wiping tears from my eyes as I refill our coffee mugs.
After awhile, Mom looks at her phone and says she has to leave for her appointment. She bids us farewell, leaving Jake and me alone.
“That was an interesting afternoon,” I tell him as we walk to my door.
“Your mom is pretty funny when she lets her hair down.”
“No. That was all you. You make people laugh, and you become instant best friends with them.”
His eyes crinkle at my compliment. “It’s easier to play nice than to argue.”
“Well, I’m kind of a hothead, so that philosophy doesn’t come easy. It’s an art.”
“Hey”—he levels his gaze with mine and takes a serious tone—“speaking of art, I know we were having fun just now, but I want you to know that I think you’re brilliant.”
My smile falls. “You read more of my books, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. You’re my favorite author.”
I swallow, touched by the notion that he sought my work out and from the compliment.
“Do you think I romanticize my heroes?”
“I think for someone who pretends she doesn’t believe in love, deep down, you know it burns brighter and hotter than you’ve ever experienced.” He places the softest of kisses on my cheek and backs up toward his door. “Now, go back to work, Lacey girl. You have a deadline.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I love it! Every single word. Damn, girl. I’m all over the place with how excited I am for this book. When do I get the rest?” Wendy utters the words I’ve been dying to hear since I started this series.
After months of writer’s block, of trying and trying to get a story together, I managed to pump out half a book in a week.
It’s Jake. I know it. The man has inspired me more than I can explain. Actually, I haven’t explained it to him. His ego will probably get in the way.
“I’m going to start making beta notes for this,” Wendy continues. “I have some suggestions, but all in all, this is addictive. I need the rest of the story. Can you schedule the editor for the end of the month?”
“I wasn’t planning on publishing until January, so I scheduled editing for December.”
“December?” She sounds horrified. “My contact at Winston Arms said they want to have their talent signed by the end of the year for next year. This baby needs to release in November.”
“That’s too soon.”
“December sales tank, honey. You know you can’t release anything, except for a Christmas novella, around the holidays.”
“I know. I just—”
“You are a top contender, and I don’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. I need the final in two weeks.”
I gulp. “Fourteen days?”
“That’s what I said. You got this!”
“I know. It’s just so fast. I still have to get it edited and—”
“I’m here for you. Like I said, I’m making notes. We’ll polish it up and then do a quick edit before submission.”
I take a deep breath in, internally pumping myself up. “I can do this. Two weeks, and you’ll have your story.”
“Amazeballs. I’m so happy for you. Now, go write!”
She laughs as we hang u
p, and I fall onto my couch. The writing has been flowing so much that I haven’t made my normal plot list of what’s going to happen in each chapter.
I thought I could take a few days to let everything settle in and think about the story, but knowing I need to get it finished right away means I have to abandon my usual methods. I’m not sure what to do next, so I think of the one thing that has helped me this entire time.
Jake.
I walk into the hall and over to his apartment and knock.
“What’s up, Lace?” he says after opening the door with a big smile on his face.
“Do you want to hang out with me today?”
He chuckles at my bluntness, and I inhale, reminding myself to calm down and not be so stressed. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”
I pinch my brows together. “Actually, I have no idea.” Because I don’t. That’s why I’m standing here, looking for ideas. “I haven’t been to any place trendy or exciting in a long time. How about Navy Pier?”
“That’s a tourist trap.”
“I know. Charisse says the same thing. That’s why I’ve never gone.” I look to the side as I try to think of something else.
“Wait, wait, wait. You’ve never been to Navy Pier?” He gives me a dumbfounded expression. “Put on a sweater. We’re going out.”
“Stop. Rewind. I was the one asking you out.”
“Oh. That’s right. By all means.” He opens his arms out wide, inviting me to ask him.
I plaster a big grin on my face. “Put on a sweater, Jake. We’re going out.”
Without a doubt, Navy Pier is Chicago’s top attraction. Stretching into Lake Michigan, the pier houses a bustling array of activities, including rides, games, restaurants, boat tours, and Centennial Wheel, a Ferris wheel standing at one hundred and ninety-six feet.
As we get out of our Uber, we’re welcomed by the U-shaped sign at the foot of the pier. Group tours are all gathered in their meeting locations to the right while families walk in, corralling their kids, and couples leisurely stroll hand in hand.
“Welcome to Navy Pier,” Jake sings out, opening his arms out wide. “What should we do first?”
“I want to ride that!” I point up at the Ferris wheel with its navy-blue gondolas lined with wall-to-wall glass.
He pulls up his wrist to check his watch. “Well, it’s six o’clock, and the sun will be going down in about an hour or so. Why don’t we walk around first and then go to the wheel? The view from up top is pretty cool at night.”
I bounce my shoulders up and down. “I like your style. Lead the way, my good man.”
Holding out my elbow, I offer him to take it. He eyes me curiously and then slides his arm through mine and gives it a tug.
We stroll through the pier. I pull him into one of the shops, and he follows me around as I look at the trinkets. Then, I stand by as he tries on designer sunglasses at another.
Everywhere we go, Jake knows someone. He gets stopped by a friend from high school as we walk past a carousel, and then while standing outside a tropical garden, he talks to a couple he worked with, doing centerpieces for their wedding. We stop and watch a street performer create a painting, using various objects. Jake is enamored with the creation, so we wait until it is complete, and then he praises the man for a few minutes about his craft.
As the wind blows over the pier, I curl my arms around myself and rub my forearms. Jake notices and slings his arm around me, pulling me close and kissing the top of my head.
When we hear music pouring out from the Beer Garden, we head on over and grab beers, and I watch him ponder over the menu for ten minutes.
“I’m gonna get a burger,” I announce to him as I put my menu on the table.
He’s playing with his lower lip as he scours the list. “The beer-soaked brats here are amazing, but so are the nachos. And I haven’t had a burger in a while.”
I shake my head and watch the band play. “Take your time.”
A few minutes later, a waitress comes over to take our order. Jake still looks conflicted.
I laugh. “Are you always this indecisive?”
“About food? Yes,” he confesses.
I take the menu from him and hand it to the waitress. “We’ll take a bratwurst, nachos, and a burger to share.”
She writes the order down and walks away while Jake looks at me like I saved his life.
“What if I don’t want to share my meal with you?” he asks with a smile.
I shrug. “We ordered three. By the time you decide which one you want, I’ll be done with my half of the burger.”
He waggles a finger at me. “I could use a woman like you in my life.”
“Good thing I’m right next door.” I take a swig of my beer and settle back into my seat.
We listen to the music, drink our beers, and devour our food.
While we eat, Jake tells me jokes, and I laugh like a fool.
“You hid under Milène’s bed in a Freddy Krueger mask?” I ask in disbelief.
“I waited for an hour until she finally got in bed. I almost fell asleep myself.”
“She must have died.”
“As soon as she turned the lights off, I popped out and shouted. She screamed so loud that my parents came bustling in,” he says with a laugh. “She wouldn’t sleep in her room for a month.”
I laugh into the back of my hand. “You’re a horrible brother.”
He holds up a hand in agreement. “The worst. But adorable.”
“An adorable master trickster.”
“That doesn’t count the time I cut the bristles off her toothbrush, threw water balloons at her and her friends from my bedroom window when they were on the trampoline, or wrapped every single piece of makeup that she had in wrapping paper and an absurd amount of tape.”
I shake my head, not believing some of these stories. “The girls must have hated you.”
“Only Milène. Penelope was my baby. I never pranked her.” He takes a sip of his beer and then lifts a finger, as if he just remembered something. “Except for one time. I wrapped her in cellophane and made her into a baby burrito. Her body only. Not her head, of course.”
“Of course.”
“She loved it. Mom, not so much.”
“I can only imagine.”
As an only child, I enjoy hearing his stories about growing up in a full household. Not that mine lacked in any way. In fact, being the sole focus of a woman who felt her daughter needed to see the world for what it was meant a lot of road trips.
“Thirty-nine states,” I say proudly. “I have a road map ready to conquer the last eleven. Five on the West Coast and six on the East.”
“What is your favorite city?”
“Wow. That’s a hard one. I loved certain ones at different times in my life. As a little kid, it was Orlando because Disney World is the most magical place on earth.”
“Why do I have a hard time envisioning your mother at the Magic Kingdom?”
“Don’t let her fool you. She has certain views on life that make her seem hard, but she was fun when I was growing up. Anything I wanted to do, we did, and anything she wanted me to see, I went willingly. We were a great team.”
The sides of his eyes crinkle. “I get that.”
“Indianapolis was awesome because they have the largest children’s museum in the world. In high school, I fell in love with Philadelphia because I was a huge history nerd. In college, I went to DC for a Women’s March, making it one of my favorite experiences. But I have to say, my all-time favorite city is Traverse City.”
He looks like he’s going to spit out his beer. “Michigan?”
I laugh at his reaction. “Yep.”
“Wait. Not New York, Miami, Boston, San Francisco—”
“No to all. They’re really cool, and trust me, I would not turn my nose up at a weekend away to Manhattan, but there’s something about Traverse City that hits my soul. It’s a four-season playground. In the summer, the beaches are gorgeous, and th
ere’s so much to do outdoors. The cherry blossoms in the spring are magnificent, and the fall leaves are amazing. And the winter leaves these blankets of snow everywhere. Plus, the town is quaint yet bustling with things to do. I don’t know … it’s like it has the best of everything.”
“Have you ever considered moving there?”
“No. Illinois is home, and my mom is here. I could never go too far. We’re all each other has.”
“Probably for the better. That’s a city for outdoorsy people. No offense, but I don’t take you for the outdoorsy type.”
I laugh with a nod. “You’re observant. I might not like to hike or ski or any of that. I do like to sit and watch. A spectator.”
“Oh, really? And what have you thought about me?”
“This feels like a trap.” I sit back in my seat, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I promise I won’t be upset by anything you say.”
I bite my lip and consider his request. “Like your mom said, you’re a typical Libra. You’re the life of the party, and while you have a Rolodex of friends, you enjoy stopping by my apartment because there’s something about hanging with an introvert like me that you find soothing.” I pause to make sure I’m not offending him in any way before I continue, “You’re very stylish, and you enjoy the finer things in life. Case in point: your trendy T-shirt costs more than my entire outfit. Which makes me wonder why you do things like come to Navy Pier with me.”
“I don’t look like a Navy Pier kind of guy?”
“Um, no.”
“So, why do you think I’m here now?”
“Because you’re a people-pleaser. You’ll do anything to put the company you keep at ease.”
The corner of his mouth tilts with an appreciative smile. The wind lifts my hair and flips it in front of my face.
He leans forward and brushes it back, pushing it behind my ear. “Let’s get you up in that wheel.”
We make our way to Centennial Wheel and wait in the long line. I offer to leave because of the wait time, but Jake takes it in stride. We laugh and joke as we inch forward, making the time go fast until it’s our turn to board.
