UnWritten

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “Yes, I remember, but I have something to tell you first, if you’ll let me.” Um, what? He had a secret? It couldn’t be too bad. I was sure Raine would have found anything shady. She was good at that.

  “Um, okay?”

  “So. Here goes.” He was nervous. Wow. That was something I never thought I’d see.

  “I don’t want to get into a serious relationship.”

  Oh.

  “I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear, and I feel like an arse for stringing you along. And for sleeping with you first. But I did the marriage thing and it didn’t work out for me, so anything I do right now has to be casual. No expectations. I can’t . . . I can’t do that again, and especially not with Drake. I can’t be all that you need me to be. I’m so sorry. I understand if you don’t want to see me again.”

  Shit. We’d just gone from planning our next date to him asking me if I wanted to call it off. The flip was so sudden, it took me a few moments to figure out what I had to say to that.

  “I should have told you from the start. I’m such a wanker,” he said. Yes, it was a serious moment, but that didn’t stop me from laughing when he said “wanker”. And besides, if anyone was the wanker, it was me. Queen of the wankers, I was.

  “No, you’re not. I didn’t go into this expecting anything. I mean, it’s been less than a week. I’m not ready for you to propose or anything. I like you and I like spending time with you. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”

  His relief was palpable.

  “You’d be fine with that? Continuing as we are with no expectations?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine with that. I mean, it’s so stupid to define it, when it’s really just about you and me and no one else. I’m not a big fan of labels in general. They’re like prisons.” I’d always balked at being defined. It reminded me of my parents and grandparents and being suffocated in the box they’d tried to stuff me in. It was probably why I’d rebelled so hard when I’d gotten the chance.

  “I’m a rebel. Be a relationship rebel with me,” I said, putting my hand on his.

  “I’ve never done this before. You’ll have to show me how.”

  “I can do that. I’ll teach you how to break the rules, baby.” He chuckled and squeezed my hand.

  He exhaled in relief. “Now that I’ve gotten that out, what did you want to tell me?”

  “I write romance novels under a pen name,” I blurted out. Damn, I didn’t mean to tell him that. It was something I was hiding from him. Just not the only thing. But if we were doing this casually, with no expectation that it would lead to anything, then did I have to tell him? We weren’t getting married. We weren’t even declaring ourselves boyfriend/girlfriend. So it didn’t matter.

  That stupid little voice in the back of my head told me that it was still wrong, but I ignored the voice. Again.

  “Could you repeat that again?” he said.

  “Yeah. Um, I write romance novels with Raine. Under a pen name. That’s what I do at night, and what I’ve been so vague about.” The words tumbled from my mouth like boulders over the edge of a cliff. No reeling them back. Now I just had to wait for his reaction.

  “That’s . . .” Don’t leave me hanging here, man. “That’s bloody fantastic.” He was grinning. Well. That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected.

  “You think it’s cool? You’re not weirded out by me writing about imaginary people having sex?” My conservative upbringing had definitely skewed my view of how other people would judge what I did with Raine. She’d told me that I was being melodramatic about people judging, but it was hard to get out of that when you’d lived your whole life being scrutinized.

  “No, I think it’s brilliant. And it explains a lot.”

  “Wait, what? Explains what?!” Oh no.

  He took his eyes off the road for one moment.

  “It explains why you’re so good in bed.” That earned him a smack in the shoulder before I realized it was a compliment.

  “I’m good?”

  “Uh, no. Not exactly. You’re much better than good. You’re the best.” My face went bright red. I’d certainly enjoyed our sexual encounters, but hearing from Declan that he’d enjoyed himself with me was another matter entirely.

  “I am?” I asked quietly.

  “Absolutely.” Damn. That was a nice ego stroke. It also stroked something else that couldn’t be satisfied at the moment.

  “You’re not just saying that to get me into bed again, are you?” I asked, knowing the answer, but still wanting to hear him say it.

  “If I wanted to get you into bed, I wouldn’t have taken you to my house and let you read a book to my son. I might not want a relationship, but I don’t just want sex. I enjoy your company. And you’re very easy on the eyes.”

  I always found it interesting that some of the most popular women featured in magazines and on the runways all had the same figure, but yet I’d never had any complaints from men about mine. In my younger days I’d worried about my weight, but when I’d never been short of suitors, I’d realized that guys liked the way I looked. A lot, actually.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Bennet.” Gah, it gave my literature-loving heart a thrill to call him that.

  We finally got to my apartment and Declan found a spot and parallel parked in front of my building.

  “Go ahead,” I said as he turned off the car.

  “Go ahead with what, exactly?”

  “Ask away. I know you have questions about the writing and so forth. Most people do.” Yet another reason I didn’t tell people about what I did. Practically everyone was writing a book and if you were successful at it, they wanted to know what your “secret” was. Like I’d trekked through the mountains of Nepal and communed with spirits who had shared it with me or something. Or that I was hoarding secrets because I didn’t want to share them.

  We got questions all the time through our author email. Ninety percent of the time, Raine and I ignored them. Sometimes, we answered if it was just a short question, but I always wanted to respond with three words: Google it, bitch.

  “All right. I do have some questions, but I should get back to Drake. May I ask one?” God, I fucking loved the way he phrased things.

  “Sure. Fire away.”

  “Will I appear as a character in any of your books?” I laughed out loud at the irony of him asking that.

  “We’ll see. We try not to base our characters on any one person for a few reasons and one is so we don’t get sued. But parts of people that we know have shown up in our books. It’s kind of unavoidable. Most of the time we don’t realize we’re doing it until we get to edits.”

  “I see. Well, if you want to use me, I wouldn’t mind and I definitely wouldn’t sue you. Promise.”

  He crossed his index finger over his heart.

  “Pinky promise?” I narrowed my eyes and held up my pinky like I’d seen him do with Drake.

  “Pinky promise,” he said, linking his finger with mine before bringing our hands to his lips and kissing my knuckles.

  “You told him, didn’t you?” Raine said the second I closed the door and she saw my face.

  “What?”

  “You told him. About the books, didn’t you?” I slipped off my shoes and tossed my purse on the table next to the door. Sometimes I wished I lived alone.

  “How the fuck do you know that? Did you plant listening devices in his car?” I wouldn’t put it past her. She could find people who would do that.

  “No, but I know your face better than I know my own. I could tell that you’d told him something, and you weren’t upset, so I figured you didn’t tell him about the background check. This was my next logical conclusion.”

  I stared at her.

  “You frighten me sometimes.” She just smiled and went to pour me a glass of wine, and refilling her own glass.

  “Good. So, how was it?” she asked. I took the glass of wine from her and we crashed on the couch together.

  “Well, dinne
r got cut short because his kid was sick. It was so sweet, Raine. I could barely stand it. I almost told him about the background check, but then he got the call and then he said that he didn’t want to do anything serious, so I figured I didn’t have to tell him?” The last part definitely sounded like a question.

  “No, you definitely don’t. If it’s casual, there’s no expectation of full disclosure. This definitely works out in your favor. You’re cool with that though, right? With it not leading anywhere?”

  “Yeah, I mean, totally. I definitely don’t have time right now, and it’s so much work to have a boyfriend. Yes, this is definitely better.”

  Raine stared at me as she sipped her wine.

  “Good performance. I almost believed you. Bravo.” She tapped her hand against her glass as if she was giving me a round of applause.

  “What? That’s the truth.” Okay, it was almost the truth. And if it were any guy but Declan, I wouldn’t have been lying. Declan was . . . something else and it wasn’t just because he was British, or a great father, or amazing in bed. The combination of those things added to something intangible made him one of those people that I just wanted to spend crazy amounts of time with.

  “You just keep telling yourself that. Practice in the mirror until you convince yourself. Did he believe you?” she said.

  “Yeah. He did. And it’s fine. I’m fine with it. I couldn’t get into something serious without telling him everything and then he’d break up with me anyway. This is just better for both of us in the long run.” Raine nodded.

  “You know, this would make a great story for a book. Are you sure we can’t still use him for writing inspiration?” I didn’t even dignify that question with a response.

  No, I wouldn’t purposely put Declan in my books, but he might make it in there anyway.

  The devastation of the fire was so much worse than I thought it would be. There was so much ash that we had to wade through it, the black staining our protective suits.

  “It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The rest of the library is relatively undamaged, except for the water. I’m afraid that most of the books couldn’t be saved,” the fire inspector said. Madeline swiped at her eyes and I swore I saw her wipe away tears. I had a lump in my own throat and I knew that when I got home, I might break down again.

  “Well, we have insurance, but it will only cover so much. Do you have an estimate of the damage?” She turned toward the insurance adjustor, who’d barely said a word and had been furiously scribbling on a clipboard and typing things on his phone.

  “Not yet. I’ll have to get some numbers and documents from you and sit down to do some estimates when I get back to the office. We should have a figure in about a week.” The insurance guy was all-business. As if hundreds of dollars’ worth of ruined books was nothing to him. Well, I guess it wasn’t, compared to a deadly car crash, or a destroyed home. But still. It was pretty fucking tragic when you came down to it.

  Madeline talked more with the inspector and the insurance adjuster and I went over to where Sabrina was sifting through some of the half-burned books that the firemen had piled up. She had her phone out and was taking pictures.

  “You okay?” I said, touching her shoulder.

  “Not really. I was just thinking about that book Fahrenheit 451 and how sad it made me, and now I’m seeing it. It’s a wonder that we put such important words on something that’s so fragile. And once it’s gone, that’s it. All that’s left are ashes.”

  It was a heavy thing to say, but we were all feeling maudlin. It was in the air, along with the floating ash. I put my arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head on me.

  “This sucks,” she said, and I agreed. It did. The local news was coming later to do an interview with Madeline about the fire and she’d already started a charity fund at a local bank if people wanted to donate. Madeline also plans for fundraising events and book donations were already starting to come in. I’d told her that if she wanted, I could compile a list of the books we’d lost and post it on our social media pages, asking for those specific books. As for the structural damage, we’d have to demolish the ruined part and rebuild and I had no idea how long that was going to take. Madeline was thinking about getting into a temporary space, but hadn’t moved forward with it yet. There was a lot to do, and I was pretty glad I wasn’t in charge of it.

  For the time being, I didn’t have a day job, but at least my paychecks were still coming in. I was grateful for that, and I knew my fellow coworkers were as well. We all just had to figure out ways to fill our normal library working hours.

  This fire had definitely caused a clusterfuck. They still didn’t know how it had started, but the best theory so far was a cigarette butt. One small thing that had done so much damage.

  Madeline had to stay at the library and deal with everything, so the rest of us went out to lunch to talk about everything and afterward I headed to the bank Raine worked at. I needed someone to cheer me up.

  I filled out a fake deposit slip and got in line to wait for her. The other employees knew we were friends, but I felt weird coming to a bank that I didn’t have an account at and talking to Raine while she was working. So we pretended.

  “Hey, how did it go?” she asked when I stepped up to the counter. “I would totally hug you, but I can’t reach.”

  “It was awful. But we’ve already got donations coming in and Madeline is going to look for a temp space. But right now it’s just a mess. A total mess. Everything is ruined.” I leaned against the counter as Raine punched numbers into her computer that would do exactly nothing. One of her coworkers had gotten busted visiting with her husband while on the clock and they’d all gotten reprimanded, so I didn’t want to take any chances.

  “It’ll be okay, I promise.” Someone else promising me something.

  “Thanks, babe. Do you need anything while I’m out?” She shook her head and printed me a dummy receipt. “Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

  I went back to the apartment and got right to work, losing myself in the imaginary world because the real world sucked at the moment.

  Before I knew it, Raine was walking through the door and putting takeout bags on the kitchen counter.

  “Get anything done?” she said, coming to read over my shoulder.

  “Actually, yes. Lots. I’ll send it to you right now.” I shot her off an email and went to investigate the food.

  “I really want to quit my job. I mean, we’ve earned out our advances on the first three books, so we’re getting royalty checks now. We could make it,” she said, taking her hair down from its more formal twist and twirling it into a messy bun.

  “Then do it. I don’t know how long I’m going to be home during the days, and if we’re both writing full-time, we can get more done. We could finally work on that story we’ve been sitting on for ages.” We’d had an idea that we hadn’t told our agent about because it was so different from what we normally wrote. Our plan was to write it and then show it to him, but it had gotten pushed aside in favor of the books we were contracted for.

  “That sounds like bliss. You and me, writing all day and all night. We’d never have to get dressed or shower. I could wear yoga pants all the time.” Her face was a mask of bliss at the thought of constant yoga pants wearing. I had admit, being home all the time did have its perks.

  She nodded as if she’d made a decision. “I’m going to do it. I was talking to this other girl I work with, and her husband is in insurance and she thinks he can get me an affordable plan that might even be better than the one I have now. Okay, I’m doing this.” She jumped up and down and hugged me.

  “I’m putting in my notice tomorrow. I’m doing it!” Her excitement was contagious and I couldn’t help but be swept up in it. She’d wanted this for so long, and had worked hard for it, so she had every right to celebrate.

  “You’re quitting your job!” I jumped up and down with her and we laughed and hugged each other. We were ridiculous.

&n
bsp; “But what if we get sick of each other?” I asked after we’d demolished the takeout and sat on the couch with a Project Runway marathon. Raine was obsessed with Tim Gunn.

  “Babe, if we haven’t gotten sick of each other yet, I think we can handle it.” True. We had spent a lot of time together, and our working relationship had smoothed out since the beginning. And back then our problems were more about figuring out how to work with one another and incorporate both our ideas to make something new. After a few books, we had it down to a science.

  “True, but I don’t think we should completely become hermits. That wouldn’t be healthy. We’ll turn into those weird reclusive authors that people tell legends about. Like J. D. Sallinger. I don’t want to be J. D. Sallinger,” I said. Sure, his level of success would be kind of awesome, but I didn’t think I could handle the kind of scrutiny he was under. Raine and I had a little bit of it, but less so since no one knew who we were and we could mostly ignore emails and crap on the Internet.

  “Okay, that’s probably a good thing. So we should leave the house at least once every three days. And you’ve got your man to take you out. Maybe I should get a dog,” she said.

  I held up my hand.

  “Or, stay with me here, and you could find your own guy.”

  Raine let out an exasperated sound.

  “No, I don’t like that plan. I don’t want a guy. I mean, I do, but I don’t. You know?” Yup.

  “Okay, no guy. I’d be okay with the dog thing as long as I don’t have to clean up after it,” I said and Raine’s face fell.

  “Yeah, I don’t know if I’d be ready for that responsibility. Maybe a fish?”

  I nodded.

  “Good idea. Start small.”

  We talked more about how things were going to work, what our schedule would be like and so forth. We also agreed that we had to shower on a periodic basis so we didn’t get too disgusting.

  “This is going to be awesome. It’s what we always wanted,” Raine said. Well, it wasn’t my dream to write books all the time. I missed being at the library. Sometimes I felt like I was cheating on writing with my library job and vice versa.