Panic sets in.
The studio and back, that’s what James wrote for her.
“Thanks.” Nelle looks at the painting, the horse galloping midair, feathered wings flung wide. “Can we stop by the apartment and pick up James before mimosas?”
Lena perks up. “James? I want to meet James!”
Jessie drizzles syrup across her pancakes. “Fine, we’ll get James. But you better be on your best behavior,” she says to Lena. “And before we leave this room, you have to define our relationship.”
“What do you mean? We’re seeing each other.”
“Not good enough.” Jessie shrugs. “I only let family meet girlfriends.”
“All right, all right.” Lena softens as she shapes the word, more intimate whisper than voice, “Girlfriend.”
A short, silent conversation passes between Jessie and Lena, then Jessie laughs and leans over to kiss her new girlfriend.
Nelle eats without saying much. She is desperate to see more of the world before James goes back to school, but she can’t deny how happy she is here, surrounded by people who love each other, who are nice to her. Painting her heart out with the view of the borough across the river, the morning light like fallen coins across the water.
She sits back with her coffee and listens to Jessie and Lena bicker about meeting each other’s parents, pretending that there is no ink, no journal, no Quill.
For a few minutes, she is a woman. Nothing else.
Chapter 16
For years, James has dreamed of typing two little words.
The End.
Eight slow jabs, one held breath, ducts bursting with tears that have waited a decade for this.
Carefully, as if it might spontaneously crumble to dust, he rolls the final page free from the typewriter and places it atop hiscompletedmanuscript. Two hundred and forty-two pages ofhiswords. He scoops the stack of paper up and flips it over to chapter one.
I did it.
Immediately, he wants to type the manuscript on a computer and upload it to the cloud. But he left his laptop in Lincoln, and dropping a grand on a new one would make a hazardous dent in his savings account, which he needs to travel with Nelle. With the completion of his first draft, he finally feels like leaving New York wouldn’t beThe End.
There is a whole world to roam, and he’s lucky to have a partner to roam alongside. They might be leaving sooner than he’s ready, but he’s not sad about it. No, the next two weeks will be a golden period. His imagination churns out a slew of images: floating on a gondola in Venice, climbing the Eiffel Tower, hiking the Scottish Fairy Pools.
He started plotting their first kiss, but nothing is set in stone.
Nelle is normally nestled in bed at this time of night. The empty sheets hold her shape. So caught up in the last few chapters of his book, he forgot that he wrote for her to go to Jessie’s studio. She has beenback three times this past week to paint, even without Jessie. James has yet to see any of her finished pieces, but Lena and Jessie both say they’re remarkable. He believes it. Can’t really imagine Nelle beingunremarkable.
Holding the manuscript like a small cake, James carries it down the hall. Jessie is frying an egg in the kitchen, a dishrag slung across her shoulder.
“Guess what I did?” he says.
As if handling a newborn, Jessie takes the manuscript and flips through the first few pages, disbelief written across her face.
“Holy shit, you finished a freakin’ book.”
“I’ve been talking about it long enough.”
“Have you told Nelle yet?” She turns to page one. “Is this because of her? Is itabouther?”
“No, no, and no.” James takes back the manuscript into his own care. “And it’s nowhere near ready for reading.”
Jessie picks up a spatula. “Elevator pitch me.”
