“I didn’t tell him anything. It’s the second time he brought it up and the second time I dodged.”
“Eveline Grace McAllister! Why in the world would you keep something that important from the man Greta Macmillan says looks at you like a goddess?”
“First of all, my middle name isn’t Grace. And second of all, you really shouldn’t believe everything Greta says. She has this habit of jumping to conclusions—you know, like you and me being in a lesbian relationship.”
“Aww. Come on. You can totally see how she jumped to that conclusion. You and me? We’re super close and it shows. I wouldn’t want to be in a pseudo-lesbian relationship with anyone else.” She blew a kiss at the screen. “When are you going to tell Alex about Drew?”
I stared at my closed curtain, wondering if Alex was doing the same. Part of me wondered what I’d find if I tossed the thing open. Would he be there? Waiting for me?
I pushed those thoughts away with a sigh. “I’d rather not think about that whole debacle ever again.”
“Sweetheart. You have to think about what happened to process it and you have to process it to move past it. And with all due respect, it’s time for you to leave the past in the past.”
I sighed again as I moved to the window. The temptation to peek out was almost too much. I missed my connection to Alex. If he was waiting for a glimpse of me…
“You haven’t been the same since it happened. Your fire just…” Amelia made a poofing gesture. “It’s gone. Like your volume’s been turned down.”
“That’s how it feels.” I leaned against the wall. “Like I’m afraid to…I don’t know…I’m just afraid.”
“And life provided you with the perfect situation to embrace your fearlessness. Step one, tell Alex what happened with Drew. Step two, write a book. Step three, give in to the chemistry everyone in Wildrose Landing sees between you.”
“Now it’s everyone who sees it?”
“You should see the comments on this woman’s post. You guys are spewing chemistry so far and wide, marriages are being saved. It’s like a pheromone wildfire, burning through that little town at a crazy pace.”
“I miss you,” I said through a laugh.
“I miss you too, babycakes. You’re gonna tell him tomorrow, aren’t you? Just sit his handsome butt down, plop your notebooks in front of him, and rip off the bandage.”
“I’ll think about it.” Though what I actually meant was “not a chance in hell.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna suggest you go with what you said out loud and not what you thought in your head. Your higher self already knows what you need to do. If you sit quietly and meditate on it, the answer will come. And if you don’t listen, you’ll get a hint. Another little nudge. Then another. And another. Not all of them will be pleasant.”
We said our goodbyes and I sat on my bed, phone in hand, staring around the room. Amelia had been right about so many things lately, maybe she was right about my higher self, too. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind, doing my best imitation of her meditating.
When my mind felt appropriately empty, I asked, “Should I tell Alex about Drew?”
My eyes flew open and I practically screamed, “Hell no!”
The reaction was so visceral, I laughed. Loudly.
I asked, and I got my answer. I would never talk about Drew again—especially not with Alex. The second I finished the thought, my phone buzzed.
Alex: Just thought you should know, I’m really glad to know you and don’t regret what almost happened today at all.
Alex: Also, your curtains are closed and that makes me sad.
Alex: Also also, I’ve never shared a baby plot idea with anyone, but I’m really glad I shared one with you. That scene has turned into one of my favorites, because of your feedback. We should definitely share more.
I stared at his last sentence, terrified my higher self had provided the answer.
Chapter Twenty
Evie
My eyes sprang open and I stared at the ceiling in my darkened room, blinking, confused. Typically, I slept like the dead. If I was awake in the middle of the night, there was a reason…
A series of scrapes and bumps downstairs shot me up straight, blanket clutched to chest…
Chills ran down the back of my neck…
Something was in the house.
A very loud, clumsy something.
“What in the world…?” My voice was a whisper and even that was too loud.
I clamped a hand over my mouth as I channeled my inner Amelia to decide what to do. The answer was simple. Investigate. The down comforter floofed to the ground. My flannel PJ pants (fool me once) swished across the hardwood floors as I crept, crept, crept into the hallway. Quiet as a mouse, I tiptoed down the stairs, my phone in one hand, one of Alex’s hardcovers in the other. I’d either take pictures of a ghost or bludgeon it back to death with a critically acclaimed masterpiece.
Like always, the ruckus came from the kitchen. Thumping footsteps. The scrape of a chair. A muttered “Aha!” followed by a series of whispers too low for me to understand.
My heart stammered as I rounded the corner. I opened my camera app. Readied the book. A shadow danced in the corner. It turned and uttered a manly yelp as I entered the room. I shrieked in return, raising the book and clicking the capture button on my phone like a madwoman.
“Wait! Evie!” The ghost flung his hands over his head as I advanced.
Hold on a tick…
I knew those curls…
That voice…
That ass…
I squinted through the low light. “Alex?”
He turned, staggering, as his eyes tried to focus through a smile. His feet were bare and covered in leaves. His chest was also bare, meaning my sexy neighbor had traipsed across our yards in freezing autumn temps, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. He had a gift bag in
