“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 up, 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!”
