I was going to figure out a way to bring that magic to life for us.
Bzzzzzzzz.
My phone buzzed on the bedside table.
I looked at the time and groaned. I was still in bed, and it was far later in the morning than when I was used to sleeping till. I was an early riser, always. Apparently not today, though.
My phone buzzed again, and I picked it up to see two messages, one from Ryker and one from Jemma. Both have very different tones.
Ryker: I hope you have an amazing day
Jemma: Get out of bed. Go to the farmer’s market.
I groaned and flopped onto my side, rereading Jemma’s message. She was right; I should get out of the house. I’d been holed up writing for the past few weeks, literally not leaving for anything other than essentials. I’d come to terms with everything I’d ever need being right here.
My laptop, my books, and my phone, which connected me to Ryker.
We’d been talking every day, sometimes on the phone, sometimes through text, but we hadn’t taken it any further than that. With all of the talking we did, we hadn’t touched on the one thing I think we were both scared of. Where did we stand in terms of ever seeing each other again?
I think that was another reason I’d spent so much time at home, because if I didn’t leave, there wouldn’t be the thought of when I might possibly see Ryker. We could always arrange something, but what would that look like? How far would we be willing to travel?
“Fuck.”
I threw off my covers and made quick work throwing on some black biker shorts, a dark blue crop top, and a hat before grabbing my portable writing bag. Jemma wasn’t wrong in suggesting I get out of the house, but that didn’t mean I needed to stop writing.
My stomach growled, and I didn’t blame it. It was nearing noon, and I normally woke up hours ago. I’d stayed up till almost three in the morning working on a new chapter for my book.
In the past two weeks, I’d written close to sixty thousand words. I wasn’t trying to rush the process, but there was something about this story that had me enthralled. Inspiration came from the days I spent with Ryker, conversations we’d had since then, and even, in the odd turn of things, CovertRetriever. I’d been spending some days watching his streams and writing. It’d become a habit now.
Today, though, I was going to take a step back and do more plotting than writing. Really try to understand what I wanted from this book. It was completely different from the book I’d submitted to my publisher last month, but it was better to ask for forgiveness in this situation rather than permission to change everything.
I double-checked I had what I needed and then headed down to the farmer’s market, loving the fall air that had graced us today. It had already started to chill down outside, but today, with no clouds, the sun shining, and a nice sixty degrees out, it was perfect.
In just a few minutes, I was surrounded by fellow patrons who were out this weekend. The farmer’s market was only open for a few more weekends, and everyone was getting the most out of it.
My first stop would be tea. I was in desperate need of some Irish breakfast extra sweet today. I made my way up to the regular booth I went to.
“Odette!” The owner, Jillian, remembered me instantly. I’d always come to the market every weekend during the season, but this year was different. I’d started to make excuses not to leave the house, that I didn’t need to go, that I could just go to a coffee shop and work. But today felt nice to have just a moment to myself. “The usual?”
“Yes, please.” As soon as the response was out of my mouth, Jillian had placed my to-go cup on the counter.
“I miss seeing you around here.”
Guilt riddled me at her comment.
“I miss coming.” I sheepishly took the tea in hand and handed her a ten, but she pushed it back toward me.
“You know your money is no good here.” Jillian never liked me paying, but I always tried, and when she refused, I added it to her tip jar and took my leave quickly before the almost eighty-year-old woman yelled at me. Which is exactly what I did today.
“Thank you, Jillian!” I dashed away, but not before giving her one more shout. “I’ll see you next week!”
“I’d better!” Her shout was so enthusiastic that it made me feel like I actually might uphold the words as a promise to myself to come next weekend.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw another message from Jemma.
Jemma: Glad you got out.
We shared each other’s locations so she could see exactly where I was. I was about to put my phone away when another message came through.
