“Is she published?” I ask.
Chase nods. “Katy is a natural disaster journalist. But on the side, she’s writing a mystery romance novel. It will be her debut into the world of fiction.”
“I remember your debut into fiction two years ago,” Lucy comments. “I’m glad you decided romance was worth writing in the midst of your bland political analysis books.”
Chase bristles a bit, but he quickly regains control and smirks. “Your twin loves them.”
“That she does.” Lucy laughs. “Speaking of, I need a signed copy of your new one before you leave. I’m traveling to Korsa for Lorelei’s family-only baby shower and can give it to her then. She’ll like a book more than another noisemaker for baby Estelle. Finley will also be pleased not to deal with an overstimulated and hormonal wife.”
It dawns on me that Queen Lorelei Andersson is Lucy’s twin. I remember hearing about the marriage four years ago. Every woman in Mississippi wanted to be her.
Who are these people, and how did I find them?!
“Speaking of husbands and wives,” Chase comments, fixing his gaze on me and Ashton. “You’ve returned from Bora Bora, but Noah isn’t present.”
I want to ask how that has anything to do with marriage, but Noah must have told them that we were—I swallow—engaged. Guess it’s true, then. My palms start sweating again.
Ashton saves me the pressure of responding. “He wasn’t there. We’re going through Esme’s manuscript to try and find where he might be. We were hoping to get y’all’s help today.”
“Do you remember anything, Esme?” Chase asks. Ashton shoots him a glare.
“A little,” I respond truthfully, once more rubbing my palms onto my jeans. “I’ve started having little glimpses. Emotions. Remembering smells, sounds, and specific moments.”
“And do they align with your book?” Lucy May asks, leaning on the table toward me.
“Yeah, so far. I guess.” Outside that one glimpse where I seemed outwardly closed off to Noah, that is.
She grins. “Then let’s dive in. I want our Noah found. This group ain’t half as funny without him.”
Ashton mocks offense, but we laugh (me uncomfortably, of course).
This table of all-star romance authors is about to read my incomplete manuscript.Mine.
“Hey,” Ashton whispers against my ear. “They’re going to love it. And any feedback will be constructive and polite, I promise.”
Nodding once, determination taking over, I reach into my backpack and pull out my laptop and my printed manuscript. “Here. Dig away. I’m going to go throw up now.”
Lucy laughs, but I slide out of my seat and head through the bookstacks to the bathroom. Once inside, I take a moment to collect myself and not think about the authors I love reading my book. My phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Ashton Prewitt:Don’t hide away, Esme.
“Pft. Easy for you to say.” I shove my phone back into my pocket and grab a paper towel to blot the sweat from my face and neck. As much as I love Mississippi, sometimes I really wish I could live somewhere cooler. Somewhere that had an actual winter and more mild summers. Like Alaska or something.
I toss the paper towel into the trash, daydreaming of snow.
Alaska.
Honeymoon.
Crescent Cove.
There it is, sweetheart. Come find the real me,the deep voice living inside my head purrs.
I plow through the door, tripping over my feet as I announce to the entire coffee shop in a breathless voice, “I know where he is!”
Chapter Fourteen
Getting Good Now ~ late july
