I read, then reread, my text. I worried that I sounded bitchy or like I didn’t appreciate the inclusive nature of this group. But that was all I had the bandwidth for right now, so I was going to let it go.
My phone lit up with another text. I glanced down and saw that it was Maeve.
Maeve:Sorry, chickie. Was that too much? Wanted you to know you have a support system here. No woman left behind and all.
Maeve was a lot, but I knew she meant well, so I put a heart on her message. I glanced out to see Noah still mowing his backyard. It would be okay, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go out and say hey.
Instead, I headed to the kitchen to grab something that could be considered lunch. With a scan of my fridge and the cabinets, I settled on egg tacos. It was what I often ate when I wanted some protein but didn’t want to think too much. Eggs scrambled up and placed in corn tortillas drizzled with olive oil and topped with cheddar, I slid them in the oven to do their thing while I cleaned up and worked to get my mind off my neighbor.
This place was perfect for me. A little Goldilocks-esque, it wasn’t too big, and it wasn’t too small. Lou had found it for me. For all I knew, she’d kicked out the former resident when I needed a place. I jest, but I bet she’d be tempted. It was a cottage with a stone chimney on the front. You walked into a giant open room—the front half of the house was a living room, the back half a kitchen with a ton of windows—and a farmhouse table split the two spaces, a bathroom to the side with the laundry. My favorite spot, the aforementioned window seat, jutted out in the back corner. I’d claimed it as my writing spot.
Upstairs were two small bedrooms and a bathroom. Clearly whoever built this place either loved plants or just really enjoyed natural light. I was a fan of both, so I was in heaven except fornow when I walked around the lower level, wondering if Noah was able to see into the place from his backyard. Likely not, but…
Holy moly, did he already know I lived here? Had he been thinking I was stalking him yesterday? Would he just come over instead of calling Sue’s today?
I began to spiral again, fully aware of it but unable to slow my mind. Of course the man didn’t know I was his neighbor. I was reminded of my mom’s advice when I was in middle school, that I was the center of my own story but a side character in every else’s. Other people didn’t think about me as much as I thought they did. When you’re a nervous introvert, that’s hard to remember.
Movement from outside caught my eye, and I watched as Noah finished up mowing the back and headed toward the front. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. Phew.
The timer rang on the oven, and I pulled out my tacos, stacking them on a plate and heading to my window nook. Once I settled myself on the seat, I inched my way back to the pillow I’d propped against a wall. I stretched out my legs and tugged the thick cream throw over my legs. While I let my lunch cool, I opened my laptop and pulled up book five.
I had my heroine for this book fleshed out. She’d been fun to dream up because she was the opposite of me—an extrovert who loved small talk and spending time with people. Now I had Maggie and Maeve in mind whenever I thought of her as well as Kylie, my closest friend in Chicago.
Kylie was one of the first people I’d met at work. She’d been at the accounting firm four years longer than I had but did a much better job at keeping a work-life balance. She also retained the honor of the only person who knew of my secret side job and had been absolutely fascinated about where my ideas came from. I tried to explain that I might take, in the case of my new heroine, the personality of two friends, the hair of a woman Isaw in a restaurant in Chicago, my own body type, the job of one of my college roommates, the speech pattern of an actress in my favorite movie, and the style of my neighbors and voilà! I had a character.
Kylie had just shaken her head but then whispered, “But the sex scenes, those are real, right?” It was then I reminded her of the sexual drought I was currently residing in and that I owed all my current satisfaction to LELO, the company that made my vibrator.
“You’re ruining my fantasy world,” she’d said with a laugh, then ordered me another glass of Shacksbury’s rosé cider, our favorite after-work drink.
When I moved down here, Kylie had been in Ireland on a once-in-a-lifetime trip with her family that she’d saved up vacation time for years to take, so I hadn’t heard much from her in the past two weeks beyond a text or two, but knew I would get a call once she hit stateside again, any day now. She’d been disappointed when I shared my mom’s concerns and told her I was making the change, but she’d also understood.
“Babe, my car knows how to drive three hours south just as my feet know how to take me to the nearest shoe store. You take care of you, and I’ll come visit and see what life is like ‘down south.’”
I tried to tell her that south of I-80 didn’t constitute the South, but she was hearing none of it. No matter what her opinions were about our geographical region, I was ready for her to be back so that she could resume her most important job of beta reading my books. I sent her chapters as I wrote because the encouragement was vital for my confidence in continuing a story. My nasty impostor syndrome was a feeling strong enough to make me stop writing. Kylie’s quiet, and sometime not so quiet, encouragement was exactly what I needed.
And right now it was needed to get over this writer’s block. My heroine felt great. My hero, not so much.
My phone’s vibrations pulled me out of my doom and gloom. Looking at the notification, the clouds cleared. Speak of the devil—looked like Kylie was home.
“Hey,” I said in greeting.
“Girl, you will not believe what that country is like.” No preamble, straight to the point. That was Kylie all right. “People are unbelievably nice, and the guys… Damn, I could spend the rest of my life staring at some of those faces.”
“Am I to take it that you’ve decided to move to the Emerald Isle and have found a man to settle down with?” I smoothed out the blanket on my legs while I waited for her response.
“Do you know me or not?” she fired back. “Lots of nice dates between family stuff. A few that led to more, but no one that I want to change my citizenship status for.” She paused, then said in a softer voice, “And how are you?”
Kylie liked to keep things real, so I considered her question before answering. “Better.” I thought of how to describe my past two weeks. “Lou had a place for me to rent before I came down here. I love it and have an option to buy. Of course, my rent here is a fraction of what it was in Chicago.”
“And the firm you’re at? I’m guessing you’re on a lunch break like me right now, so at least you’re taking your lunch again instead of working through it.” Her tone of voice told me what she thought of my previous habits.
I smiled, thinking of Sue and her worry for her employees. “My boss is Sue, and she is adamant that we all have a healthy work-life balance.”
“Well, that is something our boss could work on, but we all know he won’t.”
I snorted. “Yeah.” That was a colossal understatement.
“So you’re at lunch?”
