Rewrite the Stars
Christina Consolino
© Copyright Christina Consolino 2021
Black Rose Writing | Texas
© 2021 by Christina Consolino
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.
First digital version
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Print ISBN: 978-1-68433-650-0
PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING
www.blackrosewriting.com
Print edition produced in the United States of America
Praise for Rewrite the Stars
“Rewrite the Stars offers a touching exploration of thecomplex and divided nature of the human heart.”–Jenny Jaeckel, author of House of Rougeaux
“A fabulous read that will keep you intrigued until the very end.”
–J.E. Irvin, author of The Strange Disappearance of Rose Stone
“The story, told expertly by Consolino through the voices of Sadie and Theo, is emotionally gripping and touching, creating deep connection and sympathy for the reader with both characters.”
–Elena Mikalsen, author of Wrapped In The Stars
“Rewrite the Stars gives the reader an insider’s view of a marriage in the midst of falling apart.”
–Karri L. Moser, author of A Home for The Windswept
“An absorbing read, from start to finish.”
–Anne Valente, author of The Desert Sky Before Us
“A slow burn of a novel, with flames licking higher page by page. This beautiful and eloquent novel explores…depth, grace, empathy, and intimacy.”
–Erin Flanagan, author of It’s Not Going to Kill You and Other Stories
Thank you so much for reading one of our Women’s Fiction novels.
If you enjoyed the experience, please check out our recommendation
for your next great read!
The Apple of My Eye by Mary Ellen Bramwell
"A mature love story with an intense plot.
This book has something important to say."
–William O. Shakespeare, Professor of English,
Brigham Young University
For my mom,
Mary Ann Serafini Consolino,
who always wanted to rewrite the stars
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Praise
Recommended Reading
Dedication
Chapter 1: Sadie
Chapter 2: Sadie
Chapter 3: Theo
Chapter 4: Sadie
Chapter 5: Sadie
Chapter 6: Theo
Chapter 7: Sadie
Chapter 8: Theo
Chapter 9: Sadie
Chapter 10: Theo
Chapter 11: Sadie
Chapter 12: Sadie
Chapter 13: Sadie
Chapter 14: Theo
Chapter 15: Sadie
Chapter 16: Theo
Chapter 17: Sadie
Chapter 18: Theo
Chapter 19: Sadie
Chapter 20: Sadie
Chapter 21: Theo
Chapter 22: Sadie
Chapter 23: Sadie
Chapter 24: Sadie
Chapter 25: Theo
Chapter 26: Sadie
Chapter 27: Theo
Chapter 28: Sadie
Chapter 29: Theo
Chapter 30: Sadie
Chapter 31: Sadie
Chapter 32: Theo
Chapter 33: Sadie
Chapter 34: Sadie
Chapter 35: Theo
Chapter 36: Sadie
Chapter 37: Theo
Chapter 38: Sadie
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Note from the Author
BRW Info
I want to see you.
Know your voice.
Recognize you when you
first come ’round the corner.
Sense your scent when I come
into a room you’ve just left.
Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.
Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.
I want to know the joy
of how you whisper
“more”
― Rumi
Chapter 1: Sadie
On the morning my life began to unravel like the hem of my worn-out sweater, I found an old love letter from my almost ex-husband in the bottom drawer of my home office desk. The paper, at least fifteen years old, felt thin to my fingertips, like the lace on the bodice of my wedding dress. Inside the folds of the sheet, Theo had printed a few lines of text in his block scrawl—some words he’d written on his own, some he’d borrowed from our favorite poet, Rumi. You have disturbed my sleep, the text read. You have wrecked my image. You have set me apart.
Times had changed.
Without you, I can’t cope.
And yet, they hadn’t.
The letter’s edges scraped my fingertips one last time before I placed the paper into a file folder near my computer. The summer humidity made the drawer stick, and I pushed it closed, upsetting the small pile of bills balanced on the desk. Water sloshed from the tall glass near the computer—Theo had probably left it out all night—reminding me dishes still needed to be washed and put away. Moving toward the door, I kicked a toy car with a missing wheel. The vehicle crashed against the wall and came to rest near a singing-alphabet snail that had been waiting for new batteries for two weeks. From sweet love letters to dirty glasses and broken toys.
Insane giggles from the next room interrupted my progress, and the scene unfolded before me: Theo on hands and knees, three rambunctious children scattered across his back. Make that hand and knees—he possessed enough strength to balance on one hand. His arm muscles rippled against his favorite blue T-shirt as he tickled the children’s bellies. One tumbled off Theo and onto the carpet, while the second attempted to pull his shirt. The youngest, a pile of curls and drool, peered up at her father, joy radiating from her eyes as her pudgy fingers gripped his waistband. She clenched her teeth and yanked with a linebacker’s strength such that in one fell swoop, a portion of Theo’s shorts sprang away from his body. The kids rocked onto their heels, clapping their hands and howling, pointing at their father’s underwear. In return, Theo growled, his voice echoing across the great room rafters. The guttural noise sent the children to scatter from one toy-filled corner to the other and then back to him again.
I pinched my lips, stifling the laughter, before my gaze met Theo’s. It had been a long time since I’d witnessed such life in his eyes and in his actions. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time he’d played with the kids so effortlessly. On many days, an ordinary day’s struggles wore him out long before he had a chance to interact with the children. Wiping away a tear from my cheek, I smiled—breathing in the happy moment, reveling in the charming family image,
