I pause.
Why does she like him?
He’s a jerk to her face for no reason other than he can get away with it. She doesn’t stand up for herself even though I’ve written her to be this amazing, confident woman who’d never take that crap from anyone. Being tall, dark, and handsome isn’t a substitute for a personality and being a doormat just so he can swoop in and save her isn’t great writing, either. If I met this guy in real life, I’d be rolling my eyes. Wouldn’t matter how attractive he was…
What the hell am I even doing?
I cross my arms. I stare at my laptop screen as the cursor blinks repeatedly.
This book sucks.
No, it doesn’t suck, it just needs work.
It needs…
I bite down on my thumbnail in thought.
It needs more Robbie.
No, that can’t be it. Can it? How is Robbie even qualified to tell me what my romance novel needs or doesn’t need? What does he know… other than that he’s read all of my books and is one of the few men I’ve ever met who legitimately enjoys the genre, but other than that…
Once upon a time, I used to beg him to read my books. He always gave me the best ideas. He fixed all my plot problems, even the ones that kept me up all night staring at walls and pulling my hair out. He just always knew exactly what the book needed to fix it.
I let out a thick sigh.
Why does she even like this guy?
No reason, I answer as I place my fingers on the keys.
But I’ll give her one.
Seven
Melanie
I stand on the sidewalk and stare upward at the apartment building. I’ve only been to Robbie’s place one time before now — a very regrettable moment of weakness following our divorce hearing. I can’t quite recall the actual unit number, but I think I remember it being on the fourth floor.
As I head inside, my memory spurs. We definitely went this way, I think as I wander across the lobby toward the stairs. I very much remember this wall of mailboxes…
I pause at the landing of the fourth floor, feeling a bit of familiarity sinking in while I walk down the hall. Last door on the left, I recall.
I stop in front of it. I roll a loose fist, prepping myself to knock, but it never quite gets there.
I stare at the door.
What am I doing here?
I should have just called or, even better, emailed him. Texting is a thing, too.
I sigh and raise my hand. Well, I came all the way down here. Might as well just do it.
I knock twice. As I wait, the door two units away opens a crack. I turn in its direction, but the door quickly slams again before I can make out who it was.
Creepy.
Maybe Robbie’s not even home. Maybe I got the unit wrong. It was several months ago, and I was riding a bit of an endorphin rush that day.
I should just go. If I move quickly, he never has to know I was here at all—
The knob turns.
Crap.
The door swings open wide and Robbie smirks at me with a thin layer of sweat on his face.
“Hey, Mel,” he says.
I look down at his jeans and white t-shirt. There’s several splotches of dirt on him, but nothing too crazy. Just exactly what you’d expect from a guy working construction all morning. Maybe Trix was telling the truth.
Oh, boy…
I swallow hard. “H-hey,” I say, forcing my eyes to stay on his face and not linger too long on the epic forearm porn dangling in front of me. “Is this a bad time?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “I’ve still got a few minutes left before I gotta head back to the site. Come on in.”
He takes a step back, leaving the door wide open for me.
I follow him inside, gently closing the door behind me. As I turn in, I stop and my gaze drifts around. Well, this place sure has changed. Last I saw it, there was a mattress on the floor in the corner and cardboard boxes stacked up along the walls.
Now…
“Did you hire a decorator?” I ask, scanning the amazingly comfortable-looking living room set. It’s matching, too!
“Did you really come all the way out of here to ask me that?”
“No,” I say, my eyes wandering through a set of double doors into the bedroom. King-sized. Makes sense. “Of course not, I just…” I exhale in surprise. “This is really nice. But I do need to ask you something. Something a little more… personal.”
Robbie stands a little taller. “I knew this day would come.”
“You did?”
“Yes.” He releases a thick sigh. “Yes, your butt bone does stick out during doggy style.”
I blink. “Um. Wow. Okay. That wasn’t what I was going to ask you about, but let’s go ahead and stick a pin in that topic for now…”
He chuckles. “What’s up, Mel?”
I bite my lip. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were getting help?” I ask. “For real, I mean.”
Robbie thinks for a moment. “Would you have believed me if I did?” he asks.
I hesitate, not liking the honest answer building on my tongue. “Probably not,” I admit.
He nods. “I knew that if you knew, you’d be happy.”
“Right.” I squint. “And that’s bad?”
“Not bad,” he says. “But, ultimately, unhelpful.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“If you were here cheering me on from day one, I don’t think I’d have the incentive to keep going,” he says. “It’s like getting a big, greasy hamburger after hitting the gym. It’s a reward, sure, but ultimately...”
“Unhelpful.”
He nods. “I wanted to tell you, Mel. Every day. Don’t think I didn’t.”
“Were you ever going to?”
“Eventually, yes. Once I knew I was in control of it. Honestly, I still have a ways to go with that.”
“Okay,”
