Writing Mr. Right

by T. K. Leigh

  “Slow down,” he soothed. “I want you to feel me, Molly.”

  “I do, Noah.” I ran my hands through his wet hair, tugging at it, unable to make sense of all the sensations and thoughts running through me at that precise moment. “God, I feel you. I feel so much.”

  “I feel so much, too.” He smiled, then licked his lips before kissing me. The way his tongue caressed mine was tender, restrained, benevolent.

  I opened my mouth, a tiny exhale of air escaping my lungs. I never understood what would cause someone to be so overcome with emotion during sex that they would tear up. In that moment, I did. It wasn’t that my heart was so full it was going to burst. I just felt so much that the only way to soothe the fire in my veins, the ache in my core, the tingle on my flesh was with tears.

  “Oh, Molly,” Noah moaned, kissing my face, my neck, my chest.

  My breathing increased, everything about this moment so much more than I ever thought intimacy could be. I was wound tight, my body perched perilously on the peak, waiting for that final push to make me crumble before Noah’s talented body.

  Clutching my face in his hands, he held my head in place, not permitting me to hide from him. The simple act of our eyes glued to each other was more penetrating, more sensual, more erotic than him moving inside me. He dug his hands into my cheeks with more vigor, his gaze fiery.

  “God, I love you, Molly,” he cried out, shuddering inside me. He crushed his lips against mine, his declaration and the sudden invasion of his tongue in my mouth my undoing. I let go, my brain a slave to the rest of my body.

  In the aftermath, as I slowly returned to earth, I didn’t know what to think. I remained motionless, my eyes glued to the opposite wall of the shower, wishing with everything I’d simply imagined those words flowing too casually from his mouth…but I knew I hadn’t.

  A loud ringing echoed in the bathroom. “Shit,” Noah groaned. Letting out an aggravated breath, he reluctantly helped me find my footing. “I have to get that.”

  Avoiding his eyes, I nodded, thanking the gods for intervening. “Sure. Sure.” I turned from him, grabbing the loofah.

  “Molly?” His voice was full of concern. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. No,” I answered in a clipped tone. “I’m fine.”

  I sensed his eyes on my back for what was probably only a second, but felt like hours. Finally, the door to the shower closed and he left me to answer his phone.

  I released the breath I’d been holding, looking down at my trembling hands. Most women would be over the moon if the man they’d been dating for the past few months finally said that four-letter word. Not me. It didn’t matter that I knew the real story behind the motto I’d placed an unhealthy dependence on throughout my life. A big part of me still believed love wasn’t real, that it destroyed everything. Why had so many of my friends left their marriages? Why had some of their husbands cheated on them? Why had they been abandoned to take care of their kids? Why did my brother have to sacrifice everything he’d ever dreamed of because the woman who promised to be at his side in sickness and health had no intention of holding up her end of the bargain? I didn’t care that my father and brother chose to look past all of that, still holding onto the hope of finding love again. I didn’t want that to be me. I didn’t want love to destroy me, too.

  The door to the shower swung wide and I spun around to see Noah fully dressed, a frantic air about him.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it, turmoil in his steel blue eyes.

  “Noah?”

  “I just love seeing you naked,” he said finally, a smile forming on his lips. “I have to go into work. You can stay as long as you’d like. I’ll call you later. I love you, Molly.” He kissed my cheek, pausing for a response. When I remained silent, he blew out a breath, then left.

  I remained still, listening for the faint sound of the front door closing. Once enough time had passed and I knew I was alone, I sank to the floor, allowing the water to run over me, despite the fact my skin had begun to prune.

  Pulling my legs into my body, I did something I hadn’t in years. I cried. And not just a few tears. I cried big, fat, ugly tears, gasping to breathe through my sobs.

  I’d always thought I was a normal twenty-nine-plus-one-year-old independent woman who shunned traditional relationships so I could experience everything young adulthood had to offer. Now the realization I was anything but normal washed over me.

  I never shed a single tear when my brother was injured, when family members passed on, even when my father got his diagnosis and I had to watch the deterioration of his brain over the past few years. None of that broke me. The one thing that finally ended up being my undoing was a man I cared about more than I should telling me he loved me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I FRANTICALLY RAN UP the steps to my apartment. All I wanted was to surround myself with some sort of normalcy to help sort through the chaotic thoughts circling my head. The ache in my heart had only grown stronger as Noah’s voice repeated those three little words over and over in my mind. Was I so traumatized by my mother leaving that I broke down at the idea of someone loving me? I had no problem telling Drew, Brooklyn, my dad, and family I loved them. They said the same to me daily. It never made me have a complete meltdown. Why couldn’t I let someone who wasn’t family love me, too?

  Opening my apartment door, I let Pee Wee in, then flopped onto the couch with him. This was exactly what I needed right now…the unconditional devotion of my furry friend. Dogs were the perfect companion. They would never promise to always be there for you, then just decide you weren’t enough and head in search of greener pastures. They would always greet you with a smile and more excitement than you probably deserved. They’d never get bored with you. Men would do all that and more. I wasn’t afraid of being alone. I’d been alone my entire life. I just didn’t want to go through the same heartache my dad and Drew did.

  My phone buzzed and I fumbled through my bag, searching for it. My pulse quickened when I saw it was the nursing home. I let it go to voicemail. I couldn’t talk to Noah right now. His declaration had shifted the course of our relationship. Everything had been perfect. We had fun. We joked around. We didn’t take ourselves or each other too seriously. At least I didn’t. That was all gone now.

  I curled into a ball on the couch. Able to sense my distress, Pee Wee licked my face, giving me the comfort he knew I needed. There was only one more thing that would make my moment of wallowing in a pit of despair even more pathetic and cliché…chocolate.

  I reached for the canister of M&Ms. As I was about to open it, my phone rang again. I shot it an angry sneer. My expression changed when I saw it wasn’t Noah, but my editor. I’d all but forgotten she had scheduled a call with me this morning to discuss the final manuscript I’d sent her the previous week after securing a few more extensions.

  “Hi, this is Molly,” I answered, trying to sound as professional as possible, not as if I were in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

  “Molly, it’s Tara.” She coughed, making me pull the phone away from my ear as she expunged all the shit from her lungs. “Listen, I read what you sent over. In fact, I read it all in one sitting. I couldn’t put it down.”

  I stood up, my pulse quickening. I’d worked with Tara on over a dozen books at this point. She’d never so much as complimented anything I’d sent her before. She was brutally honest to a fault. Her first words to me were usually along the lines of, “It’s got good bones, but needs a lot of help. And do you realize to accomplish some of the bedroom scenes, your hero would need to grow an extra appendage or two?”

  “Thanks, Tara,” I responded.

  “Don’t thank me,” she barked back. “I forwarded it to the head of the editorial team and she’s in agreement with my assessment. It’s a damn good story.” She paused as I braced myself for the punchline I knew was coming. “But, like I told you months ago, it’s just not what we publi
sh here. We’ve already granted you quite a few extensions so we’ll need to work nearly ‘round the clock to turn this story around. You’ll see my ideas in the manuscript when I send it back this morning.”

  Her words knocked the breath out of me, although I knew this was a strong probability. I’d been saddled with nearly complete rewrites before and it never fazed me. I saw it as a challenge. But I didn’t want to rewrite this one. I could agree to some minor tweaks to make the story more compelling, more emotional, more gripping. This one was personal for me, a story I felt very strongly about.

  “It’s still a romance, Tara,” I pleaded. “I think there’s still some really good bedroom scenes.”

  Tara sighed. “That’s certainly true, but we simply don’t do this kind of story at this particular imprint. Our goal here is to deliver something that’s sinful, sexy, and sensual.”

  “So just sex then?” I replied, feeling indignant.

  “No. You can do sinful, sexy, and sensual without even getting into the bedroom. A little angst is okay, but there’s too much heartache here. And where’s the happily ever after? I have no closure.”

  “I’m not sure how the story ends yet. This is just the first part.”

  “The first part?” she shot back.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s over 90,000 words, which is about 10,000 more than we’d like, and you’re telling me there’s more?”

  “Yes. I’m thinking it’ll be more of a duet or a trilogy.”

  Tara sighed again, louder this time, exhibiting her obvious irritation with this news. “Listen, Molly. This is a good story, or I guess the beginning of a good story. But we can’t go forward with it like it’s written. We don’t do heavy drama. We don’t do heartbreak. And we certainly don’t do series. You can keep the characters and the original premise, but everything else needs to go. I’m sure there will be enough left over to piece this story back together once we get rid of most of the drama.”

  I pulled my lip between my teeth. “What if I don’t want to make the changes you’re suggesting?”

  “Then we won’t be publishing this book. You’ll forfeit whatever advance you’ve received, and it will nullify the remainder of the books we’ve contracted with you.”

  I considered what she said. This was my third contract with this publisher. This particular manuscript was the first book in a five-book deal. I’d be losing practically everything. Having to pay back the hefty advance would pretty much deplete my savings.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in,” Tara said, breaking the silence. “I’ll send the manuscript back with my suggestions so you can see what I’m talking about. Review it over the weekend. I’ll call you Monday to discuss this further.”

  The line went dead and I sank back into the couch. Noah’s stupid declaration of love was now the furthest thing from my mind. Could I throw away all my hard work over the past several months just to put out yet another book with the same regurgitated story and repetitive sex scenes? Or should I stand by my work, publishing contract be damned?

  I searched through the contacts on my phone for my agent, then paused. I knew what she’d tell me to do. She’d recommend I give my publisher exactly what I’d promised them so I didn’t destroy the relationship she’d helped cultivate over the past several years. Not to mention she stood to profit a considerable amount from this deal with her cut of the royalties she was guaranteed. I knew I had breaks in my publishing schedule that would allow me to release a book independently without violating any non-compete clauses in my contract. I could rewrite the book with different characters and release it then. I hated that idea, too.

  I shot off the couch, grabbed my purse, and dashed down the steps. I needed Drew’s advice. He’d always been the practical one, and I needed him to tell me what to do. My head told me to do what my editor wanted. My heart told me to stand my ground and back out of the contract. My head usually won, but this time, my heart was much louder.

  I burst through the glass doors of the café and made a beeline for the counter.

  “Molly,” Aunt Gigi said. Her brow furrowed at the frantic expression on my face. “Is everything okay?”

  “Where’s Drew?”

  She tore her eyes from me, scanning the display cases to see if anything needed to be restocked. “He’s not here.”

  “I see that. Where is he?”

  “Out,” she answered evasively.

  “Out where?”

  “Why don’t you call him and ask? I’m not his secretary.”

  “That’s true, but you know everyone’s business. Just tell me where he is.”

  She let out a sigh and placed a dishrag on the counter, wiping it down. “He’s been trying to talk to you about this for a while now, but you’ve been a bit…preoccupied.”

  I shrank down, a pang of guilt making its way to my chest. This was yet another reminder of how much I’d changed since I began dating Noah. I’d neglected everyone I once held dear. All for some guy. Drew had reached out to me several times over the past few weeks, wanting to get together for a drink, but something always came up…like Noah’s erection.

  “Talk to me about what?”

  “He bought a house in Needham. He closes on it today.”

  My eyes widened. “What’s wrong with the apartment?”

  “Molly, you and I both know that place is too cramped for those two girls. They need somewhere to run around and play outside.”

  “There are neighborhood parks all over the place!”

  The idea of Drew leaving Boston made me panic. We had the perfect arrangement. Now it seemed like everything was ending.

  “And why would he commute so far when he could just walk right downstairs to the café?”

  Aunt Gigi studied me again, pausing, her lips pinched. “He hasn’t really been working here the past month.”

  “What?” My mind raced. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your brother wanted to be the one to tell you, but it appears that ship has sailed.” She drew in a long breath, blowing it out as she spoke. “He finally took the coaching job he was offered at Boston College.”

  “What about the girls?” I argued. This change was too much for me. I’d grown accustomed to having Drew and the girls next door. For the past several years, he’d been one of the few constants in my life. The thought that I’d no longer be able to walk down the stairs from my apartment and into the café to see him was more than I could handle.

  “He found a nanny who will be with them when he can’t. He’ll get most of the summers off, apart from some recruiting trips. When he’s out of town, they’ll stay with Leo and me. Or you, if you’re around.”

  I shook my head, trying to process everything.

  “Molly…” Gigi placed her hand on my arm, giving me a compassionate look. “You couldn’t expect Drew to stay here forever. It was a great arrangement while he got back on his feet after Carla, but those girls need better than a city apartment that’s only 1,000 square feet. He stayed these past few years because of you.”

  “Me?” I blinked repeatedly.

  She nodded. “He didn’t know how you’d react to him leaving, so he stayed. Did you really think he needed to live in such a tiny apartment when he could certainly afford something much larger with the substantial hockey salary he’d collected for years?” She shrugged. “Now that it appears you’ve found someone, he doesn’t feel the pressure to stay anymore.”

  “What if this thing with Noah doesn’t work out? What happens then?”

  “You’ll be fine.” She gazed upon me fondly. “But I don’t think you have to worry about that, my dear. I’ve seen how that man looks at you. He’s got it bad.”

  I gaped at her, immediately reminded of the four-letter word Noah had said to me earlier today. This morning now seemed like an eternity ago. So much had happened in such a small amount of time. It wasn’t even noon yet, and not only was I dealing with the notion that Noah loved me, but now my brother had taken a new j
ob and was moving. I still had no idea what to do about my book, either.

  It was days like today that reminded me why I hated being an adult.

  “I have to go.” I abruptly spun around and darted out of the café, ignoring Aunt Gigi’s assurances that everything would be okay. I didn’t see how.

  The sun warmed my skin as I stomped down the sidewalk, unsure of where to go. I glanced around the streets of the North End, a decadent aroma unique to this close-knit neighborhood filtering out of the restaurants lining the street. How could Drew leave all this? This wasn’t just a place to live. The North End was home.

  I pulled out my cell and dialed Drew’s number, listening to it ring repeatedly, only to be greeted by his voicemail. I was aware this wasn’t as big a deal as I made it out to be. I’d still see him. I had the most flexible job in the world. I could easily make the twenty- or thirty-minute drive to Needham and work there, the girls running amuck in the background. Hell, I could probably convince Drew to make sure there was a guest room for me.

  It wasn’t the idea that he was moving on that made me unsettled. It was the realization that I refused to do the same. I’d become so set in my ways, I didn’t want to change for anyone or anything. Change scared me. It always had. I wondered whether Aung Gigi was correct in thinking I’d gotten over my fear of abandonment because here I was, wandering the streets of Boston, nearly having a panic attack at the idea of losing Drew and the girls.

  My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my anxious thoughts. Hoping it was Drew, I snatched it out of my bag, almost dropping it on the sidewalk. A scowl crossed my face when I saw it was the nursing home once more. I could only deal with one problem at a time. Right now, my most pressing issue wasn’t my writing career or the idea that the man I’d been casually dating loved me. It was losing Drew.