by Brea Brown
“Wait! Before you do, has Nick said anything about me since, you know, we met on the Devil set? I felt a connection. I know you weren’t there, but trust me…”
I sigh inwardly and lie, “Ah, yes! As a matter of fact, he said you were… ‘fascinating.’ But… I think he’s straight,” I inform him regretfully.
“He probably thinks he is, too,” Gus says. “That doesn’t mean anything. Alright, then, Babushka. Au revoir!”
And like that, he’s gone.
Luke marks his place and closes his Blake Redmond-Womack book. “After listening to that, I’m thoroughly exhausted and am going up to bed.” He stands and stretches. “You coming?”
I barely glance up at him while shaking my head. “Nope. Gotta keep at it.”
I was on a roll before Gus called. He has “writing groove radar” like that. But I’ve screened his calls for weeks, so I felt an obligation to answer this time.
After bending down to kiss the top of my head, Luke leaves the room and shuffles up the stairs.
Now, where was I?
*****
The last piece of paper rasps from the printer and lands, warm and facedown, on the two-inch stack already in the output tray. I straighten the edges and hug the ream to my chest while tiptoeing up the stairs to our room, where Luke lies, warm and facedown, in our bed.
I poke him with my foot.
“Grrrrrrr,” he growls into his pillow.
“Luke!” I hiss. “Wake up!”
Turning his head toward me but keeping his eyes closed and remaining still, he says, “If the house is on fire, just leave me. God’s trying to tell me something, obviously.”
I kick him harder. “That’s not funny. Wake up.”
He cracks an eye but then quickly squeezes it shut again when I turn on his bedside lamp. “What the fuck…? Jayne! What time is it?”
“Never mind,” I say, not wanting to admit it’s nearly 4 a.m. “I need you.”
“Then turn off the light and get in bed,” he replies. “Since when do we have to have the lights on? And do we have to do this right now? We can have sex when the alarm goes off.”
Laughing, I say, “I don’t need you for sex. I finished the book!”
This gets his attention much faster than a middle-of-the-night delight ever would. He pushes up to a sitting position and wiggles his fingers at the fresh, clean manuscript in my arms.
“That’s what I thought,” I mutter, handing it over and then going into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
When I slide between the covers a few minutes later and nuzzle down into my pillow and up against his side, he’s nearly finished reading the two chapters I’ve most recently completed. My eyes are burning and blurry from the strain of staring at my laptop monitor for fourteen hours, so I close them. It’s pointless to watch his face for a reaction, anyway. He never gives away anything while he’s reading.
Soon enough, he’s setting the manuscript on his bedside table, turning out the light, and scooting down under the covers again.
“Well?” I ask eagerly when he doesn’t volunteer any feedback.
“It’s good,” he says in the same tone one would probably use at receiving a crayon drawing from a young child.
My heart sinks. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?”
He sighs. “I mean, ‘it’s good.’ And there’s nothing wrong with it. Well… I saw a couple of things that you’ll need to change, but nothing major. The usual. You really don’t know how to use semi-colons, do you?”
“I thought I did…”
“You don’t.”
“Fine. But what about the content?”
“Jayne, it’s 4:00 in the morning. I’ll give you a full critique tomorrow, complete with fancy red pen marks.”
Grudgingly, I accept, “Fine. I’m just excited.” I know it’s good, anyway. I don’t necessarily need his stamp of approval. I simply wanted to share my good news with someone. “I already have an idea for the next one… It’ll be told in first person from the point of view of a guy who works at a—”
“Jayne…!” He pulls me against himself and kisses my forehead. “Tomorrow.”
“Okay, okay.” I rub his chest with my palms. “I’m sorry. I had a lot of coffee tonight.”
Already sounding half-asleep, he says, “Don’t apologize. You’re inspired. That’s a good thing. But I’d rather hear about it when the sun’s up.” He gives me a final hug. “I love you. G’night.”
Before I can return the sentiment, he rolls over and, in the process of rearranging himself and getting comfortable, elbows me in the face.
THE END
Acknowledgements
& Author’s Note
This is one of those books that started out as a “You should write a book like that” idea. So I started it. Then I hit a wall and stopped. Then I came back to it. Then I thought I was finished. Then I decided it needed more substance. Then I decided it needed less of some other things. More than a year later… here we are. It’s come a long way from the original idea Cara, Laura, and I hatched in a movie theater lobby, but I still owe the two of them a bunch for planting the seed.
I had so much fun writing this book! It was a great break from my Secret Keeper characters and plotlines. It’s exciting to create new characters in new settings and new situations. I related a lot to Jayne in some ways, but much of her personality and character was foreign to me. I really had to step outside of my own experience to imagine what life was like for her. Jayne only has herself to worry about. Although that’s not by choice, it’s still her reality, and it makes her life incredibly uncomplicated, something she doesn’t realize or appreciate until professional success takes hold.
As for Luke… Well, Luke was fascinating to develop. He’s complicated and bad-tempered and belongs to a world that takes itself entirely too seriously. It was fun to pair the two of them and imagine what would happen. It was interesting to see each of them gain perspective from each other in completely different ways.
In any case, it feels great to actually follow through on one of those, “You should write a book like that” ideas, instead of just agreeing to it and forgetting about it, or starting it and then running out of steam.
Thanks to all the usual folks: family, friends, fellow writers, BETA READERS!! Without you guys, my experience would be a little bit too much like Jayne’s was in the beginning, and although I joke about wishing I could live a more solitary existence, it’s all talk. Of course, you already know that. Big, heartfelt thank-yous to all you readers, too. Without the most fabulous readers in the universe, I’d just be typing stories about imaginary friends into a vacuum. Thanks for your support and for tirelessly cheering me on!
--Brea
About the Author
Brea Brown lives in Springfield, Missouri, with her husband and three sons. Her previously-published books are The Secret Keeper, The Secret Keeper Confined, The Secret Keeper Up All Night, and Daydreamer, all available exclusively on Amazon.com. When she’s not writing books… Ha! Well, sometimes she’s not. In those cases, she catches up on her reading and hangs out on Facebook (www.facebook.com/breabrownauthor), and she dabbles in blogging, as well (http://breabrown.blogspot.com). She also has a borderline-unhealthy fascination with British culture in general and Colin Firth, more specifically. Please, take a minute to send her a message on Facebook, follow her on Twitter (@BreaBrown3), or email her at [email protected].
