I finish zipping up my carryon bag, and then I frown as the movers prepare to carry my stuff across the country. It's sure as hell costing me enough. You'd think I asked them to give me a kidney or something.
"I don't understand. The Easton Boys series is doing great. It's already getting more attention than anything else you've put out there. It even has a movie deal."
"And it was part of my old notebook ideas. All of my new stuff has flopped among the beta groups. My old stuff—the things I jotted down at random back when I was living in Sterling Shore—is all anyone seems to like. I need to go find whatever in the hell inspiration I can. I'll come back once I have a whole new notebook full of ideas."
She grumbles something about me being stubborn and it being in my head, but I choose to ignore it. The Easton Boys was all I had left. I really wasn't ready to write that story, but seeing as I didn't have anything—and I do mean anything—left in me, I finished it.
"I still don't understand why you wrote it under a different pen name. It's going to confuse a lot of your loyal fans."
"I've already told you; I don't want the guys knowing I wrote a book about them. I'll never hear the end of it," I groan while ushering her out of my empty apartment.
She goes with a begrudged motion, and I take one last wistful look at the place I've called home for... about a year. Moment over. No real memories here, just as there hasn’t been too many memories made in any of the homes I’ve had in New York.
All of my memories are in Sterling Shore, and I dread going back to face those memories.
Dane Sterling.
What will I do when I see him? What will he do when he sees me? I pray he and I don't cross paths very often, though that'll be hard to accomplish.
We run in all the same circles, and we share the boys. Kode crashes at my place every time he's in New York—which is often. Maverick and Corbin usually always come to sleep over with me and have some nights out—at least three times a month. And Dale usually comes when his fiancée is traveling for business, which is rare.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to seeing the guys more, but Dane... I'd rather sleep on a bed of needles for three months than face him for five minutes.
"I shouldn't have released the Easton Boys," I mutter to myself, cursing under my breath while shaking my head.
If Dane sees that, I'll feel like an even bigger fool. I doubt he's stalking the romance department, though.
"So Dean Easton is Dane Sterling, right?" she asks, probing.
I tried keeping a lid on where this all came from, but I got drunk, and the damn tequila betrayed me last night. Stupid truth serum.
"Yeah," I mumble.
"So... what's the big deal if he sees it? Last night you kept freaking out about him seeing it, but it's under a different pen, and it's a fictional piece. It's obvious you didn't use actual events all the way through."
"That's just it; I did use actual events all the way through. I just exaggerated several pieces and embellished certain parts of the story."
She seems confused as we load the elevator, studying me with her scrutinizing eyes.
"What?" I snap, suddenly feeling rather irritable.
"It's just... It's obvious you didn't get the ending Reva got, so what happened?"
Never again will I drink tequila. Betraying bastard. After all I've given that toxin, it decides to take my dignity in front of my assistant. Great.
"That's one o
f the parts I embellished. In real life, Dean never went to Reva after she poured her heart out on a three-page letter. Instead, he let her go, rarely called for the first three months, and they haven't seen each other in six years. It wouldn't have made the best romantic ending in the fictional version. In real life, we don't get always get the HEA."
A reverent sigh graces her lips. She knows I'm right. Those who can't do, teach. Those who can't live, write. At least that's how I feel.
The taxi is waiting when we reach the outside, and Viv follows me in, quickly rattling off all my events from my calendar. I need to make some changes. I need to find that piece of me that's connected to my writing. I can't stay in this stall or I'll go crazy.
Hearing Vivian chirping about all the signings, interviews, and various functions, I refrain from slapping her. I need... a break.
We pull up to the private portion of the airport, and I smile when I see the familiar face waiting for me on the far edge of the runway. I'm out of the car in no time, nervous and excited about getting this over with.
"There she is," Kode says, grinning salaciously as he holds his arms out.