But the idea of it now, here, with Chase? I want this more than I thought I would.
"I'd like that," I tell him.
"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrows, a small smile playing against his lips.
"Yeah. Give me another hour or two? I want to hit three thousand words before I stop."
"Take your time. I'll get everything ready." He heads toward the hallway, then pauses and looks back. "Paisley?"
"Hmm?"
"I really am proud of you. Just wanted to make sure you knew that."
Before I can respond, he's gone, leaving me alone with my laptop and the ideas pouring out of me.
I dive back in, my fingers flying across the keys. My outline continues. Emma will discover that David has been drugging her, making her forget things, making her doubt her own memories. She will find the other women's journals, hidden in the crawl space beneath their bedroom. She will read about their slow descents into madness, their desperate attempts to escape, their final entries that all end the same way.
A line comes to my mind, and I have to write it down. It's going to be further in the story, toward the end but I don't want to forget it.
I'm leaving tonight. He doesn't know I know. If you're reading this, I didn't make it.
My heart races as I type it out. It's almost as if I'm living in this story right now, that I'm Emma. I haven't felt this alive in years, not even when Chase is making me fly as he fucks me. This is the excitement I've needed.
The words come faster now, my fingers struggling to keep up with the thoughts in my head. This is what I've been missing. This rush, this feeling of being creative, of bringing something to life that didn't exist before. The way I was going to bring a baby into this world.
I write until my wrists ache and my eyes blur. I write until I hit three thousand words, and then I write a little more, unable to stop at such a crucial moment. She's starting to feel slightly off-kilter and she's confronting David.
I'm telling you, Emma, don't ask questions about things you don't want answers to. You'll regret it in the end.
Finally, at thirty-two hundred words, I force myself to pause. To save the document. To close the laptop and step away. I don't want to burn myself out, don't want to tap into the energy, and then lose it for a couple of days.
My whole body is thrumming with adrenaline.I stand up and stretch, my back cracking, and that's when I notice what Chase has been doing while I was lost in this world I was creating. I can't believe that I didn't even hear it. This must be what people talk about when they say they've hit a flow state.
The living room is full of stuff now. A massive evergreen tree stands in the corner by the window, its branches full and green and smelling like the forest outside. Boxes of ornaments sit on the floor beside it, and a pile of garland waiting to be draped.
"Chase?" I yell.
He comes out of the kitchen, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. "Done writing?"
"How did you," I gesture at the tree, at the decorations. "When did you do all this?"
"While you were sitting there writing. I didn't want to disturb you." He hands me one of the mugs. "You looked pretty intense over there."
"I was." I take a sip of the chocolate, loving the warmth that coats my throat and chest as the liquid moves down my body. "I can't believe you did all this."
"Haven't decorated anything yet, just got it all in one spot. Thought we could do that together."
I look at the tree, at the boxes of ornaments, at Chase standing there with hair wet from the snow outside. He's got a smile on his face and something like hope cracks open in my chest.
"I haven't decorated a Christmas tree in a few years," I admit.
"Then we're even. I haven't decorated one since my wife died."
We stand there for a moment, two broken people who are maybe starting to heal, and then I set down my mug and move toward the boxes. We can either make it awkward or we can begin to move on. "So how do we do this?"
"Lights first." Chase is already pulling a strand from one of the boxes. "Always lights first, then ornaments."
We work together, winding the lights around the tree from bottom to top. He's taller, so he handles the higher branches while I focus on the lower ones.
