by Tabatha Kiss
I spot my laptop sitting on the coffee table. Might as well skim this week’s words to see if there’s anything worth saving in there.
I open the laptop and set it on my thighs as I get comfortable. The word processor is still open at the place I left it last time, minus about ninety percent of the battery life.
With a grunt, I reach beneath the couch for the power cable. I find it, thank god, and plug in the laptop before it dies.
Finally, I sit back and ready myself for a readthrough.
Wait…
I didn’t make these annotations.
I squint in annoyance, trying to remember when I edited these passages. An extra comma here. A fixed parenthesis there.
You describe her top two different ways in this scene.
More with the roommate! She’s fun.
This paragraph is crap. Cut it.
I blink twice. My editors are never this blunt. No one’s ever given me notes like this except for—
I gasp. “Robbie…” I growl in annoyance.
He read this. Last night, he crashed on my couch, and he read my fucking manuscript?!
Who does he think he is? Why did he think it was the least bit appropriate to invade my privacy like this?
As I read some more, my anger spikes.
Change this.
Change that.
Why does she even like this guy?
I sit back in a huff, taking offense. Um, hello? He’s the hero. Of course she likes him! He’s tall and attractive. And rich! Can’t go wrong there. I’ve already got a cover model all picked out and everything. Of course he’s likable. He’s…
I pause.
Why does she like him?
He’s a jerk to her face for no reason other than he can get away with it. She doesn’t stand up for herself even though I’ve written her to be this amazing, confident woman who’d never take that crap from anyone. Being tall, dark, and handsome isn’t a substitute for a personality and being a doormat just so he can swoop in and save her isn’t great writing, either. If I met this guy in real life, I’d be rolling my eyes. Wouldn’t matter how attractive he was…
What the hell am I even doing?
I cross my arms. I stare at my laptop screen as the cursor blinks repeatedly.
This book sucks.
No, it doesn’t suck, it just needs work.
It needs…
I bite down on my thumbnail in thought.
It needs more Robbie.
No, that can’t be it. Can it? How is Robbie even qualified to tell me what my romance novel needs or doesn’t need? What does he know… other than that he’s read all of my books and is one of the few men I’ve ever met who legitimately enjoys the genre, but other than that…
Once upon a time, I used to beg him to read my books. He always gave me the best ideas. He fixed all my plot problems, even the ones that kept me up all night staring at walls and pulling my hair out. He just always knew exactly what the book needed to fix it.
I let out a thick sigh.
Why does she even like this guy?
No reason, I answer as I place my fingers on the keys.
But I’ll give her one.
Seven
Melanie
I stand on the sidewalk and stare upward at the apartment building. I’ve only been to Robbie’s place one time before now — a very regrettable moment of weakness following our divorce hearing. I can’t quite recall the actual unit number, but I think I remember it being on the fourth floor.
As I head inside, my memory spurs. We definitely went this way, I think as I wander across the lobby toward the stairs. I very much remember this wall of mailboxes…
I pause at the landing of the fourth floor, feeling a bit of familiarity sinking in while I walk down the hall. Last door on the left, I recall.
I stop in front of it. I roll a loose fist, prepping myself to knock, but it never quite gets there.
I stare at the door.
What am I doing here?
I should have just called or, even better, emailed him. Texting is a thing, too.
I sigh and raise my hand. Well, I came all the way down here. Might as well just do it.
I knock twice. As I wait, the door two units away opens a crack. I turn in its direction, but the door quickly slams again before I can make out who it was.
Creepy.
Maybe Robbie’s not even home. Maybe I got the unit wrong. It was several months ago, and I was riding a bit of an endorphin rush that day.
I should just go. If I move quickly, he never has to know I was here at all—
The knob turns.
Crap.
The door swings open wide and Robbie smirks at me with a thin layer of sweat on his face.
“Hey, Mel,” he says.
I look down at his jeans and white t-shirt. There’s several splotches of dirt on him, but nothing too crazy. Just exactly what you’d expect from a guy working construction all morning. Maybe Trix was telling the truth.
Oh, boy…
I swallow hard. “H-hey,” I say, forcing my eyes to stay on his face and not linger too long on the epic forearm porn dangling in front of me. “Is this a bad time?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “I’ve still got a few minutes left before I gotta head back to the site. Come on in.”
He takes a step back, leaving the door wide open for me.
I follow him inside, gently closing the door behind me. As I turn in, I stop and my gaze drifts around. Well, this place sure has changed. Last I saw it, there was a mattress on the floor in the corner and cardboard boxes stacked up along the walls.
Now…
“Did you hire a decorator?” I ask, scanning the amazingly comfortable-looking living room set. It’s matching, too!
“Did you really come all the way out of here to ask me that?”
“No,” I say, my eyes wandering through a set of double doors into the bedroom. King-sized. Makes sense. “Of course not, I just…” I exhale in surprise. “This is really nice. But I do need to ask you something. Something a little more… personal.”
Robbie stands a little taller. “I knew this day would come.”
“You did?”
“Yes.” He releases a thick sigh. “Yes, your butt bone does stick out during doggy style.”
I blink. “Um. Wow. Okay. That wasn’t what I was going to ask you about, but let’s go ahead and stick a pin in that topic for now…”
He chuckles. “What’s up, Mel?”
I bite my lip. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were getting help?” I ask. “For real, I mean.”
Robbie thinks for a moment. “Would you have believed me if I did?” he asks.
I hesitate, not liking the honest answer building on my tongue. “Probably not,” I admit.
He nods. “I knew that if you knew, you’d be happy.”
“Right.” I squint. “And that’s bad?”
“Not bad,” he says. “But, ultimately, unhelpful.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“If you were here cheering me on from day one, I don’t think I’d have the incentive to keep going,” he says. “It’s like getting a big, greasy hamburger after hitting the gym. It’s a reward, sure, but ultimately...”
“Unhelpful.”
He nods. “I wanted to tell you, Mel. Every day. Don’t think I didn’t.”
“Were you ever going to?”
“Eventually, yes. Once I knew I was in control of it. Honestly, I still have a ways to go with that.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Do you want me to leave and never bring it up again?”
“No,” he says, smiling. “Cat’s already out of the bag and since yesterday was Sunday, I can only assume it’s really out of the bag.”
I cringe. Me and my big mouth. “Yeah, Trix and Nora know — and Haley. Possibly our new server and two or three surrounding tables, too. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he says, adding a shrug.
I l
et my eyes wander around again. Is that a fucking houseplant? And fish? Live fish??
“Wow,” I say under my breath.
“What?”
I hesitate. “You’re doing so well, that’s all.”
“I’m doing all right. Could be worse, could be better.” He cants his head. “Go ahead.”
I straighten up. “Go ahead and what?”
“Say what you’re really thinking.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“She said never.”
I chuckle. I sigh. I stumble over words that never sound right. “So, seven months?”
“Seven months.”
“I can’t help but notice that’s around the time we officially split.”
“And you think you taking a hard stage left exit out of my life is the reason why my life got better?” he asks, easily reading every damn thought in my head.
“Yes,” I say.
“Melanie, the day you walked out for good was the worst day of my life,” he says. “My life wasn’t better for it, it was worse. I lost you and I hit bottom. To be honest, I thought about ending it. Almost did.”
I hold my breath. “You did?”
“I gave myself twenty-four hours,” he says. “I sulked, I cried, I got really wasted for the last time, and then I got help. I knew that if I didn’t, I wasn’t going to make it and the thought of never seeing you again at all was too much.”
“Rob, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know.”
“There was no way you could have. Don’t worry about it.” He exhales hard. “Honestly, it feels good to say it out loud.”
“It does?”
“That therapy must really be working.”
I smile. “Seems like.”
Robbie clears his throat, his gaze just as soft as always. “Is that all you came here for?” he asks as he flexes the fingers of his right hand.
I pause, remembering the nail sticking through it a few months ago. Does it still hurt him?
“Actually, I, uh...” My lips twitch. “I read your notes.”
His brow piques. “Oh, yeah?”
“First of all…” I give a stern face. “Never touch my laptop or my things ever again.”
“I sincerely apologize,” he says. “It won’t happen again.”
“Thank you. And secondly…” I glance at my toes. “I revised a few chapters last night based on what you said and… I wondered if you would look over them for me. Let me know what you think.”
He smiles. “Sure.”
“If you have time,” I say quickly. “It’s not… I mean, don’t feel like you have to—”
“Melanie,” he stops me. “You know I’m always up to read your stuff. That’s never changed.”
I scratch my brow. “Okay, well… I’ll send those over as soon as I get home.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Thank you.” I cringe, biting my cheek. “So, about the butt bone thing...”
He smirks. “It’s hardly noticeable.”
I sigh with relief. “Thank god.”
We laugh again, settling quickly into a short, comfortable silence.
Robbie tilts his head. “You know, I think this is the first conversation we’ve had since the divorce that didn’t end with us screaming at each other,” he says.
“You know, I think you’re right,” I say, noticing it myself.
“Thought for sure I was about to get something thrown at me when I saw you standing in the hallway.”
“Hey, there’s still plenty of time between here and the door,” I say. “I’m sure you’ll say something stupid.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I think I’ll save my energy for the rest of my workday.”
“Oh, that’s right!” I say with a laugh. “You work now.”
“That I do.”
“Trix told me you build things?”
“I’ve been known to wave a hammer around.”
“Do you wear a belt with loops on it for drills and stuff?”
“Yes, I do,” he says.
“A hard hat?”
“That, too.”
“Nope,” I say, squinting hard. “Still can’t quite picture it.”
Robbie takes a step toward me and I catch sight of the regrettably sexy dirt mark on his chin. “Well, you’re welcome to stop by the site one of these days. See it all for yourself.”
I pause as my heart skips twice. “Maybe,” I say, my voice breaking.
I turn away quickly, eager to find my way back to the door before things get too…
I don’t even know what I’m afraid of happening.
I just know that it can’t.
“Anyway,” I say, “I’ve got some errands to run, too. I’ll let you get back to work.”
Robbie follows and opens the door for me before I can get to it. “I’ll take a look at those pages tonight after I get off,” he says.
“Right, yeah,” I say from the hall. “I’ll get those to you so you can get off— I mean, take a look… at them.” I bite down, cringing away from the smirking gliding up his face. “And thank you, again, for agreeing to help me out. I really appreciate it.”
He nods. “No problem. I’m happy to do it.” He smiles at me again, making my knees quiver beneath me. “Have a good day, Mel.”
“Yeah. You, too, Rob.”
He closes the door and I release the breath I was holding.
Well, that went… better than expected.
Again, the door two units down latches quickly. I glare at it for a second before retreating toward the stairs.
Super creepy.
Eight
Robbie
I’ve been smiling all day.
I shouldn’t feel nearly this smug, but you got to love it when a plan comes together. I’m just happy I went home on my lunch break today. If I had missed Melanie, who knows when she would have built up the nerve to come and ask me for help again — and I know that couldn’t have been easy for her to do.
After work, I stop by Yummy Bean to grab some coffee on my way home. I’ve been looking forward to going over Melanie’s new pages all day, and I’m saying that as a fan. What I read the other night was Classic Melanie Rose. Now, all she needs is a little push to stay focused and make it even better. If this book does well, then I can expect her to ask me for help again.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
The coffee shop is alive with its usual 5 PM crowd. I settle into the lengthy line, quietly scanning the menu above the counter for anything new, but I know I’m just going to tell them my usual once I get up there.
“Hey, Robbie.”
I glance over my shoulder and find Clive Snow, Nora’s Dom extraordinaire, standing behind me. “Oh, hey, Clive. What’s up?” I say, giving him a head nod. “You on your way in to work?” I ask, knowing he works security for the kink club next door.
“No,” he says. “I mean, yeah. I’ve got a shift soon, but I came in looking for you, actually.”
I raise my hands in defense as we step forward with the line. “Hey, if this is about that time you heard me call Melanie a homely sea witch; that’s just how we talk to each other. Always have.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I know. Nora filled me in about... that. No, I wanted to ask you about something. Still Melanie-related, but...”
“Okay,” I say, lowering my guard. “Let me order real quick. You want anything? My treat.”
We reach the counter and Clive looks at the smiling barista. “Uh, small black coffee, please,” he says.
I nod and slap my debit card on the counter. “Vanilla macchiato. Largest you got. Iced. Lots of whipped creme. And sprinkle on a bit of that pumpkin spice.” I point a finger at her. “Don’t lie to me. I know you’ve still got it back there.”
She grins. “Coming right up, Rob.”
I wink. “Thanks, Doris.”
Clive’s brow pinches with amusement.
“It tastes nice, man,” I say.
He nods, saying nothing more.
Once we have our coffees, I gesture across the shop toward the nearest empty booth and we head over before someone else can claim it.
I slide into the right side and plant my back against the wall. “So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask Clive before sipping my drink.
Clive sits down, looking stiff and nervous as he stares at his lid. “How...” He hesitates. “Okay, you and Melanie.”
“Melanie and me.”
“You were married.”
“We were.”
“Okay, so… how long after you met her did you know that you wanted to be with her forever?” he asks. “In theory, I mean.”
I snort. “About sixty seconds.”
His head tilts. “Really?”
“Really.”
“But... how? What made you know for sure?”
I raise my drink and take a long, drawn-out sip as I study his face. “You want to propose to Nora, don’t you?” I ask.
He pauses, the answer written all over his handsome mug. “It’s crossed my mind,” he says.
“Of course it has,” I say. “Nora’s amazing.”
“She is, yeah.”
“Honestly, the better question is, why wouldn’t you chain that girl down?” I smirk. “If you two haven’t tried chains yet already.”
He laughs. “It seems too soon.”
I point at myself. “Sixty seconds.”
“Okay...” He shifts forward an inch. “How did you know that?”
I take a moment as I think back to that first night with Melanie Rose. “We clicked,” I answer. “The attraction was there the moment I knew she was there.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean knew she was there?”
“Well, I couldn’t see her,” I explain. “But I could see the aftermath of her.”
He squints, needing more.
I smile. “Mel and I met speed-dating.”
“Speed-dating? You mean the thing with the one-minute dates?”