“Are you pregnant?”
“What?” I recoiled. “No.”
“Okay. Good. Then this calls for tequila.” Amelia swept into the kitchen and returned with a bottle and two shot glasses.
I stared at the liquor. The last thing I needed was to muddle my thoughts when I couldn’t even make sense of how I was feeling. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
But I wasn’t good. Not at all. And the tears I furiously blinked away ratted me out.
“You look furious.”
I explained what I’d found in Alex’s manuscript. “I mean, it’s just a note. A thought. The scene doesn’t actually exist, but I’m so uncomfortable with that story making it into his book….” I plopped onto the couch and rested my elbows on my knees.
Amelia put the bottle and shot glasses on her coffee table then perched beside me. “What did he say when you brought it up?”
I stared at the ground for a long time, chewing on my bottom lip.
“You did bring it up, didn’t you?”
“I was so upset, I just drove right here, without even worrying about the communism being too long.” I gave her a weak smile as I offered our silly joke and Amelia wrapped me in a hug.
She brushed my hair off my face. “I understand why you’re so upset, but you need to be talking to Alex about this, not me.”
“I know I do.” I took in a shuddering breath. “But what if I misjudged him? I mean, this is the guy who let the entire town think my house was haunted so he could keep getting what he wanted. What if I tell him how I feel, and he uses the scene anyway?”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“But what if he does?”
My anxiety ran away with my logic. All I could remember was the humiliation of being used by Drew and never paying attention to the signs he’d dropped along the way. Because in the end? Looking back? They were there. I chose not to see what a terrible person he was, and therefore, in a way, I chose to allow him to steal my book.
What if I was doing the same damn thing with Alex?
“Evie. Sweetie. Love. You have to talk to him about this. You can’t let your fear of the confrontation keep you from speaking your needs. You have to step up, be fearless, and tell him why this won’t work for you. How can he know how much it bothers you if you don’t use your voice?”
I dropped my head into my hands. “I shouldn’t have to tell him. He should just know.”
“But…should he?” Amelia used a high, squeaky voice that told me she really didn’t buy the premise of my statement.
I stood and flung out my arms. “Yes! He should! A few days after I told him the story, he blurted it out to all our friends. I was so mad, so mad. I told him point blank I wasn’t okay with telling people about what happened. I need him to know that putting my story in his book would hurt, because I need to know he understands me.”
“I get that. I do. But you still need to talk to him. You’re jumping to conclusions and you haven’t even read the scene yet.”
My jaw dropped. “Whose team are you on, here?”
“Yours. I’m team Evie, all the way. But if you don’t talk to him about this, you’re not being fair to Alex, and you’re not being fair to you.” She crossed the room and took my hands. “You’re not being very fearless right now.”
I didn’t need Amelia to tell me I was wrong. I needed her to tell me I was seeing things clearly, maybe for the first time. Her statements only added to my confusion.
“It was a mistake for me to come here.” I yanked away and moved for the door. “I just got in my car and drove and didn’t even bother to call.” My gaze glued itself to the floor. “I’m really sorry to interrupt your night.”
Run away, run away, run. It’s what you’re good at, after all, whispered the angel of self-doubt.
“Evie…”
“No. It’s okay. I’m just gonna go…” I wrapped Amelia in a quick hug, then got the hell out of there before she could say anything else.
While the drive to Amelia’s was over before I knew it began, the drive back to Wildrose lasted an eternity. My anxiety played tricks with time. Minutes lasted hours and my heart questioned everything that happened in the last few months. Snow crunched under my boots as I made my way up to my porch, stomping my feet on the mat before stepping inside and heading upstairs. A minute after my bedroom light turned on, I got a text from Alex.
I needed to make some changes to the manuscript. The door was unlocked, so I let myself in and grabbed it. Will return tomorrow. I missed you something big today. Life loses its color without you around to brighten things up.
I spread the curtains and found him staring out his window. He lifted a hand and blew me a kiss. I echoed the movement, then texted him goodnight before laying down to wait for sleep.
I’d talk to him in the morning. No matter how badly the prospect scared me, I owed it to both of us to talk to him about how finding his note made me feel. I’d do it as soon as he returned the manuscript. Just flip to the note and mention how I’d rather he not use my story in his book.
That shouldn’t be too hard. In fact, it should be easy. He’d hug me and tell me it never occurred to him and promise to take it out. I’d be proud of my fearless self and we could go on the way we had been, like nothing ever happened.
Only, when Alex
