Today, I'm at my makeshift desk, fingers flying over the keyboard. My main character is facing down her demons, confronting the person who's been tormenting her. The words pour out of me, faster and faster, building to the climax I've been working toward for weeks.
And then... it's done.
I type the last sentence, the one that ties everything together, and I stare at the screen in disbelief.
I finished it. I actually fucking finished a whole book.
Without thinking, I jump up from my chair and scream, pumping my fist in the air.
Across the room, Chase jerks up from where he's been recording birth rates for the cattle. "What? What's happening?"
"I finished it!" I'm bouncing on my toes, unable to contain my excitement. "I finished my book!"
His face breaks into a genuine smile, the first real one I've seen in weeks. He crosses the room and pulls me into his arms, lifting me off my feet.
"That's amazing, Paisley. I'm so fuckin' proud of you."
He sets me down and kisses me. It's sweet and celebratory, and for a moment, everything feels right again. Like it did before he got sick.
Picking me up, he twirls me around, and out of nowhere these words slip from his lips. "I love you so much."
They hang in the air between us, and my heart breaks a little. Because I'm not sure I can believe him, and this has all come out of nowhere.
"You can't," I whisper.
His face falls. "What?"
"You can't love me. Not until you can talk about her by saying her name. Cara Leigh." I step back, putting space between us. "You're not over her, Chase. There's no way you can claim to care about me when you absolutely can't get over her until you can at least say her name while you're conscious."
"Paisley..."
"No." I hold up my hand. "I've been patient. I've given you time and space and every opportunity to open up to me. But you won't. You keep her locked inside you like this precious secret that I'm not allowed to touch."
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like? Explain it to me, because from where I'm standing, it feels like there are three people in this relationship. You, me, and a ghost."
He runs his hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. "You don't understand."
"You're right. I don't. Because you won't let me."
We stand there, staring at each other, and I realize something. I can't do this anymore. Can't keep loving someone who won't let me all the way in.
"I need you to figure out what you want," I tell him. "Because I can't be with someone who's still in love with someone else."
"I'm not..."
"Aren't you?" I challenge. "Because it seems like you are. It seems like you've been holding onto her so tight that there's no room left for anyone else, including me. Isn't that why you've escaped out here by yourself?"
He doesn't answer, and that silence tells me everything I need to know.
"I'm going to go for a walk," I say quietly. "When I get back, we need to talk. Really talk. Because I can't keep doing this."
I grab my coat and head outside, not waiting for his response. The cold air hits my face, and I gulp it in, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside me.
I love him. God help me, I love him.
But I can't compete with a ghost. And I won't.
