by Amy DeLuca
“Oh, I guess it was a remote hacker then? How else would the first five chapters of my book from my personal computer make it onto the internet if you didn’t upload it?”
He stalked toward the fireplace. Grabbing his hair in both his fists, he let out a roar.
“I am an idiot! I can’t believe I fell for it again. I was happy when it was just me and my writing, before you came along, before Claudia. I knew I was better off alone where no one could betray me.”
He turned around to glare at her. “I want you to get your things and get out. You’re fired.”
The words snapped Bonnie out of her shock-paralysis. And her heartbreak over Jack’s accusation morphed into something else—anger. She went to her purse and began re-loading it, stuffing in her belongings with vigorous motions.
“Fired?” she barked a harsh, bitter laugh. “I don’t work for you, but if I did, I’d quit.”
Bonnie had believed they were past this. She’d thought they trusted each other. She thought he’d opened his heart to her. But he wasn’t even listening to her. He didn’t care about the truth. He saw what he wanted to see—an adversary, a risk too great to take.
Tears swam in her eyes and leaked down her cheeks, making it difficult to retrieve all her things. All she wanted to do was leave, get as far away as possible as fast as possible from this impossible man.
Grabbing her purse, Bonnie headed for the door. Jack followed.
“Why are you crying? I’m the one who’s been played for a fool,” he said.
“No, Jack, I’m the fool.”
The rightness of the words sank in as she said them. She turned around to face him.
“Yes, I went into your office that day a few weeks ago—because I wanted to see the view my ‘favorite writer of all time’ took in while writing his amazing books. Looking back on it now, I think I was already half in love with you, and that’s why I did something so foolish. But now I see the stupidest thing I could have ever done was fall in love with you. You don’t want love. You want safety. You want the complete absence of risk. Well, guess what? Love is a risk. For you, for me, for anyone. I thought it was worth it. I guess I was wrong.”
He was calmer now, his face betraying the first hints of uncertainty. “There’s no other explanation. I know it wasn’t any of my staff. They’ve been with me for years.”
“So. Was. Claudia,” Bonnie said in an isn’t it obvious tone. “Your ex? The woman who was here yesterday and did nearly the identical thing once before? Maybe you should go dump out her purse and throw accusations in her face. One thing’s for sure—you won’t be seeing mine again.”
Understanding dawned in Jack’s eyes. It didn’t matter to Bonnie whether he understood or not. She’d gotten dangerously close to making the biggest mistake of her life. There was nothing he could say now to make her stay, assuming he even wanted her to.
Harrison spotted her in the foyer and rushed to intercept her before she reached the front door. His voice was filled with concern. “Miss Hamelin, where are you going? Shall I call a driver for you?”
“Leave,” Jack barked at him.
Apparently, he was still following her. Harrison retreated immediately, and when Bonnie reached the front door and started to pull it open, Jack’s big hand came over her shoulder, flattening against the door and shutting it again.
“Bonnie… wait.”
She turned to look up into gorgeous aquamarine eyes she’d never see again. Drinking in their beauty and sadness and sorrow one last time, she blinked away a new round of tears.
“I want you to know I never betrayed you, and I never would have. Because I do love you. But Jack, I will get over it. A relationship has to be built on more than love and attraction. There has to be trust. And clearly, we don’t have it. Good luck with your book.”
She turned and pulled open the door, walking out of Jack’s mansion—and his life—forever.
Twenty
More Than Anything
Jack missed his deadline.
But get this, the publishing house that swore they’d never give him another extension… gave him another extension. Because of the pirated excerpt, of all things.
Turned out Claudia, in her nasty, last-ditch effort to hurt him, ended up helping him. The long excerpt caused such a fan frenzy and flurry of pre-orders his publisher gave him a few more weeks to finish.
And he was close. Still no ending, but he’d already sent the first three quarters of the book to his editor Marina, and she loved it. She wanted a few minimal revisions and was on standby, ready to read the final chapters as soon as Jack finished them so they could go off to the printer.
So now, other than knocking out those editing notes, all he had to do was come up with a brilliant, satisfying, fan-pleasing conclusion to a seven-book epic series loved by millions. Easy peasy.
You’d think he’d be happy. He hadn’t been cut by his publishing house, his writing career wasn’t over, he wouldn’t have to go live in a van down by the river. His life was intact and… safe.
But Jack wasn’t happy. Far from it. There was a hole in his life, infinitely larger than the one that had existed before Bonnie showed up. Now he knew what he was missing.
A soulmate. And no one—no one—could ever replace her.
He tried focusing on the writing. It had always worked in the past, escape the cares of the real world by immersing himself in a fantastical world of his own creation. Not this time.
Bonnie was everywhere he looked. In the kitchen where she used to entertain and charm his entire staff, on the beach where they’d shared so many walks and secrets. In the guest room where she’d left behind all of her personal items as well as the clothes and shoes he’d bought her.
Most especially in the library. Jack hadn’t even been able to set foot in that room since she’d left three days ago.
He was in his office tonight, working on the fifth version of the ending, hating every word of it. It was like his imagination and creativity had jumped out the tower window and crashed on the jagged rocks below. He’d been so inspired when Bonnie was there. Now, nothing worked.
Mrs. Potts, who’d returned from New York a few days ago looking younger and happier than he’d ever seen her, had been absolutely right—when he’d opened his heart, the words had started flowing again.
Now… well, Jack’s heart was somewhere in New York City, and he’d never get it back. He struck the keys rapidly, writing a short final battle scene where all the major fan-favorite characters died horrible deaths. There was no one left to sit on the Onyx Throne. Perfect.
“And they all lived miserably ever after. THE END.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a hopeless laugh, covering his face with his hands.
Clearly, he needed a break.
Jack went downstairs and wandered through the house, which had never felt so empty. Glancing over at the darkened library entrance, he shuddered and turned to walk in the opposite direction toward the kitchen. Maybe he’d get a snack. Maybe that would stop the hollow, gnawing feeling inside him.
But he stopped in the middle of the foyer and just stood there, his head dropping so he stared at the pristine marble floor. He breathed in, breathed out. His lungs labored like he was trying to breathe peanut butter.
He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t need food. He needed… her.
Jack turned again and walked to the library, flipping on the light switch. Looking around the room, he could almost convince himself Bonnie had just gone out for a walk and would be right back.
A book lay open on the chair nearest the fireplace—which was cold and dark, the perfect metaphor for his life the past few days. On the desk lay the notebook she’d been writing in before he’d returned her laptop. That was there, too, untouched since he’d used it to show her the pirated chapters and driven her from his life.
I should send it to her.
No doubt she needed the computer for work. The notebook, too. She’d used it to write the article about thei
r interview. Had she had a chance to send it in yet?
Jack went to the laptop and tapped the keyboard, waking it from sleep. There was no password protection screen.
How like her. Her life was an open book—had been since day one. He was the one with all the skeletons in his closet. He was also the world’s biggest idiot.
He felt even worse when he checked her outgoing emails and saw she’d sent in several book reviews but hadn’t sent in the article yet. Yep, he had to get her office address and ship this to her today. Her clothes and other things, too.
At that thought, one of the wizards from his Onyx universe reached into Jack’s chest and crushed his heart. He hated the thought of removing all traces of Bonnie from this house. But how could he live with the constant reminders of what he’d lost?
Maybe he’d sell the place. It was far too big for one person and a handful of staff anyway.
His morose thoughts were interrupted by his brother’s ringtone. “Hi ho, hi ho…” the perky song began, finishing with a whistle.
Jack answered. “Hey Hunter. What’s up?”
“What’s up with you? You haven’t been returning my texts. Everything okay?”
“I’ve been writing. The book’s almost finished.”
“That’s fantastic,” he said. “Why don’t you sound happy—or at least relieved?”
“Bonnie’s gone. She went back to New York.”
There was a pause. “Oh. What happened?”
“I was an idiot.”
“What’s new?” Hunter quipped then got serious. “No, sorry man. I really am. I can tell you’re bummed. What happened? I thought things were going well with you two. The way you were talking, I thought she was the one.”
“She was… before I accused her of pirating my book.”
“Whoa. Did she?”
Jack’s tone was indignant. “Of course not.”
Another long pause. Jack assumed his annoyingly optimistic brother was thinking of how to turn lemons into something other than rotting lemons.
“Okay, so… you said some things you regret. You can come back from this. Have you tried calling her?”
“Of course I’ve tried, but she doesn’t answer. It’s over. I blew it. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“You could try her work number tomorrow.”
“What, so her secretary can blow me off, too?”
“Okay, well get in your fancy sports car and drive down there then,” Hunter suggested. “You could be there in three-and-a half hours.”
“It’s eleven o’clock. She’ll call the police if I go banging on her door at three a.m. I don’t even know where she lives.”
“Mrs. Potts can give you the address. Didn’t she visit Bonnie’s dad there on a daily basis?”
The thought of facing Bonnie’s father after breaking her heart the way he had was more intimidating than the eighty-foot fire-breathing dragons Jack had written into his storylines. The man was old and blind, but he was still a dad, and Jack had hurt his daughter. He’d deserve every scathing word Mr. Hamelin would no doubt hurl in his direction.
That was the crux of the problem. Jack didn’t deserve her. Not after what he’d done. She was better off without him, and he was better off alone where he couldn’t hurt anyone else. He was broken, damaged. Did he really want to subject the woman he loved to a lifetime with a beast?
“Nah. I think it’s best to just…” Jack could barely get the rest of the thought out. “… let it go.”
“Really? Really?” Hunter said, sounding incredulous and a bit perturbed. “You’re going to just give up and let the woman of your dreams go without a fight. Do you know what I’d give to have a chance like that?”
Though it wasn’t widely known, Hunter had been pining for his own dream girl since high school.
She was beautiful, and smart, and sweet—all the good stuff. But she’d grown up in a different world from them, born and raised in one of Newport’s famous Bellevue Avenue mansions. And as far as Jack could tell, she didn’t return his brother’s slavish devotion.
“I know. Bonnie’s amazing. She’s… everything. But it’s too late,” Jack said, the words like stones piled on top of his heart.
Hunter wasn’t finished. “This isn’t you, brother. What happened to the guy who used to jump off the roof wearing cardboard wings to see if he could fly?”
“He broke his ankle, if I remember correctly.”
Ignoring Jack’s sardonic reply, Hunter kept going. “What happened to the kid who sent out hundreds of query letters to magazines and agents, trying to get your short stories and graphic novels published, who kept going in spite of all the rejection letters filling up your inbox? You were fearless. You went for it. You learned from your mistakes and kept trying. Even when we got older, and everyone said, ‘Writers never make any money,’ and, ‘Don’t quit your day job,’ and that no one wanted to read about dragons, and elves, and sword-fighting knights in this day and age… you wrote it anyway because you had a story to tell and you believed. You said, ‘If anyone can make it in this business, I will.’ You inspired me, man. You always have. There’s no way I’d have launched my own tech company if I hadn’t watched you take risks, and trust yourself, and go for it.”
He finally stopped for a breath. “Find that guy… and tell him to get his butt on the highway to New York. Or he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life. And I’ll have to hear about it.”
“I’m a mess,” Jack confessed. “I never dealt with all the… stuff that happened with Dad. What if I can’t change?”
“You can do anything you want to. I know because I’ve watched you do it my entire life. It’s going to take some work, but neither one of us is afraid to work at what matters to us. So, the question is—how much does Bonnie matter to you?”
The answer popped immediately into Jack’s mind, loud and clear.
More than anything.
After they said goodbye and hung up, Jack sat for a while, thinking about his younger brother’s advice and staring at Bonnie’s left behind laptop. Hunter was right. Jack had sustained hundreds if not thousands of rejections before he’d found success as a writer. And those were probably just as well-deserved as the one Bonnie had delivered.
But he hadn’t quit and thrown himself a pity party. He’d improved. He’d grown and changed as a writer, becoming a better version of himself. He’d trusted that all the blood, and sweat, and tears would be worth it someday.
His reward had been a publishing contract, followed by a bidding war and a larger, much more substantial contract when he’d submitted Onyx Throne. The television show and sales of the sequels had surpassed his wildest dreams.
Why would he ever quit trying to win Bonnie back when the potential reward—a real-life Happily Ever After—was so much greater?
Jack knew what he had to do.
Flipping through the notebook, he found the article she’d written on their interview. Thankfully, contrary to Bonnie’s claims, her handwriting was just fine—a whole heck of a lot neater than his.
He opened a file on the laptop and transcribed the article word for word. It was good. Really good. She was an incredible writer. Maybe one day soon, if he was really lucky, he’d get to tell her that in person.
For now, he still had some work to do.
Retrieving his own laptop, Jack copied and pasted a particularly exciting excerpt from the middle of Book Seven and emailed it to Charlotte, along with Bonnie’s completed article and his compliments on what a talented, patient professional she was.
Then he re-opened his Book Seven manuscript and started writing. His fingers flew over the keyboard, the words coming faster than they ever had before. His brain and heart were on fire, crackling and popping with fresh inspiration and ideas. The words flowed, the page numbers increased.
He didn’t even need caffeine. He was going on the power of new hope.
By sunrise Monday, the book was complete, and Jack knew the ending was exactly,
perfectly right. It was better than the one in the original outline. Somehow all that had transpired over the past year and a half, the good and the bad, had worked together to produce the conclusion that had always been meant to be.
Now all that was left was securing his own happy ending. He hit “print” on the final chapters—plus a dedication page that, if he dared to say so, was truly inspired.
Gathering the pages, he slid them into a big brown envelope. On the outside he wrote a name—a beautiful name that held the power to determine his fate—and scooped up his car keys, jogging toward the staircase.
Three and a half hours.
Jack wasn’t sure he could wait that long for his new life to begin.
Twenty-One
Surprise Package
On Monday morning, Bonnie made pancakes and bacon, killing time until Dad got up. She knew he’d be fine to get breakfast on his own, but honestly, she just needed to see a friendly face before going to work and facing her fate.
He came into the kitchen, dressed for the day and smelling of white soap and aftershave. Lifting his nose, he inhaled the unfamiliar fragrance of cooked breakfast foods. On a normal day they’d both be eating cereal in the morning.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked. “Are we celebrating something? You get good news on that promotion you wanted?”
Bonnie stepped over and kissed his cheek, handing him a plate. “I think that’s out of the question at this point. There’s no occasion. Can’t I spoil my dear old dad a little bit? Besides, I missed cooking.”
He laughed out loud. “I appreciate it, believe me darlin’. But you’ve never liked cooking. What’s really going on?”
Ugh. He knew her too well. “I’m stalling,” she admitted. “I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when I go in to work today. I have no article to give Charlotte, and I don’t know how to explain why.”
Her dad sat down and cut into the stack of pancakes with the side of his fork. “You could try telling her the truth,” he suggested before taking a big bite.