“And now?” I prodded.
She grimaced. “And now I just learned that my aunt has potentially already read my first book.”
I had to laugh at her horrified look. “And this is terrible because…”
Jules leaned toward my chair. “Noah, my books aresteamy.”
Interesting. “By steamy, I’m taking it that there are descriptions of characters having sex?”
There went her lower lip again as she worried it between her teeth before giving me a slow nod. Mental note, add reading Jules’s books to my immediate to-do list.
“Are you embarrassed or ashamed of that?”
Her head tilted as she thought for a moment. “No, not ashamed. But as a culture, people are weird about it, you know? Like I’ve had people ask me on my writing accounts on social media if those scenes are based on my own life. One, that’s strange. And two, the answer is no, of course not.” She paused, looking lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t know if that’s why I get so freaked out by my family reading them—maybe I’m scared they’ll assume the same? Or…” She looked out the window as she mulled it over. “Maybe I’m afraid they’ll think the book is just bad overall.”
I thought about that. “Well, I don’t know many people who write books, only Elle who lives in town. She’s a historical fiction author. But Jules”—I made sure she met my gaze—“I think that it’s incredible that you are able to take something that exists in your imagination and put it in a form for others to enjoy. I have a feeling that anyone you share this news with will think similarly.Especiallypeople who are related to you.”
Jules looked down again as she mumbled a reply. “Yeah, confidence in myself isn’t something I have in droves. Heck”—she rubbed her thumb over the handle on her mug—“the struggle to even write my current book is real. Just the knowledge that people were reading it made writing harder. The idea of being open with everyone…” She shuddered.
I reached over and tapped her knee to get her to look up. “Jules, it’s not for me to decide if or when you share your writing life with others, so I am not judging what you’ve done so far.And I don’t know your parents, but trust me when I say that Lou would likely be your biggest cheerleader if she knew.”
Her eyes welled up, which made my heart clench, and I wished I could scoop her into my lap and hold her.
“Thanks, Noah. It’s nice to talk to someone about this even if it’s not easy.”
I kept my seat and tried for reassurance. “You’ve got this, Jules. Maybe you need to work on imagining what it would feel like no longer carrying it around as a secret.”
At that comment, she nodded and picked up her sandwich and began to eat while gazing out the window, clearly processing my words. I took a moment and sat back, sipped my coffee, took a bite of my croissant, and gave her some space to think.
A glance around the café found that they were busy today, like always. There were tables of folks by themselves working on laptops, a group that appeared to have come from one of Kate and Kristine’s yoga classes judging by their attire and a few rolled-up mats, and clusters of two or three folks spread out around the space. Allyson had small sections of seats situated in the café so that even when most spots were taken, you still felt like you had some privacy.
That being said, my eyes found Lou’s across the room where she was sitting with Verdell and a few of her friends, though her gaze was fixed on us. She raised her eyebrows at me as if to remind me that she was keeping tabs. I gave her a nod to tell her I had this.
I hoped I did.
“Noah.” Jules soft voice brought me back to her.
“Yeah?”
“What if knowing that people whoknowme read my books takes away the magic? What if I can’t escape into my fictional world anymore because I’m thinking of their reactions as I write? What if my current writer’s block is permanent? Whatthen?” The only way to describe Jules’s expression was sad. Like she was worried about something she’d lost before she even had.
But I was stuck on something she’d said at the beginning. “Um, Jules, what are you trying to escape?”
She blinked rapidly in my direction. “When did I say that?”
“Just now.” This woman. Everything in me was telling me to comfort her, reassure her it would all be okay. I was holding strong because we were in public and Lou would certainty have something to say. And oh yeah, I wasn’t dating. Anyone. And yet…
“I guess.” Jules looked at the ceiling for more than a few beats before turning back to me. “I guess escaping my reality?”
“Want to elaborate on that?” I looked around, and the space I’d felt we had seemed to be evaporating. “And want to go on a walk as you share?”
“What?” Jules looked around, behind our chairs, seeming to see how many people now filled the café. “Sure. Want to walk back toward our houses?”
I nodded and scooped up our now-empty plates while she grabbed our mugs. We dropped them in the black tub by the door and left without a glance toward Lou, or at least I did—I couldn’t speak for Jules. I just felt certain the older woman would have a lot to say if I looked her way.
Stepping outside, I enjoyed the warmth of the sun as I fell into step with Jules. “So why were you escaping your reality?”
Jules was looking down at her feet as she walked; the feeling I got from even seeing her profile was one of being lost.Fuck it, I thought, grabbing her hand. Friends held hands when needed, right?
