We’re so proud you’ve caught the reading bug.
This will help you keep track of all the stories you finish! And who knows, perhaps it’ll even inspire you to write your own.
Love,
Mom
PS. I’ve already made a space for you on the shelves at the library.
Daddio x
Inscription found on the inside cover of Priscilla’s first reading journal
Chapter Seven
SIENNA DOESN’T OPEN HER MOUTH, DOESN’T MAKEa single sound, and yet she might as well have shouted out “Eureka!” Because everyone is now looking at her with varying degrees of envy and surprise. Kenzo offers her the corner of a smile. Malcolm scowls.
“Uh-oh,” says Jaxon.
They know. Of course they know.
Every writer recognizes that moment, that spark.
Sienna doesn’t care. In that moment, she wants them all to disappear. Wants to go rushing from the room right then and there, but she knows she shouldn’t, not with the editor still holding court, so instead she reaches for her notebook. But somewhere in the course of the night, her pen’s gone missing.
Priscilla notices, and tugs hers from the collar of her top, handing it over without being asked, and Sienna doesn’t even care that the ink is red. She takes it gladly, scribbles a few notes, wants to write more but forces herself to stop, and smile, and hand it back with a thanks. Her mind is already racing from the room, running through the halls of the house, shoutingYes, yes, yes, but she forces herself to count to ten, then twenty, before she can’t take it anymore.
She yawns and rises to her feet, aiming for casual and falling several paces short, judging by the look the others give her. But Rufus seems to take it as his cue.
“Well,” he says, patting his pajama legs. “I really should be getting back.”
He gets to his feet, and this time, he seems steady enough.
“I thought it was dangerous to sleep right after a concussion,” says Millie.
“That’s been pretty well debunked,” says Kenzo. “Just take a couple Tylenol.”
“I have Tylenol.” Priscilla’s voice is slightly too loud. Everyone stares at her. “In my room... if you want to come grab it?”
Sienna arches a brow. After giving him the cold shoulder, she can’t possibly beflirting? Then again, that is a trope in romance, isn’t it? Enemies to lovers and all that. But Priscilla seems to hear the words shortly after they leave her mouth. That, or she sees the shock on Cate’s face, the amusement on Jaxon’s.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
Rufus offers a beatific smile. “That’s very kind, Priscilla, but I’m sure I have some in the cottage.”
They trail him out of the games room, back toward the foyer. But Sienna catches Priscilla’s arm, holding her back as the others drift ahead.
“Hey, thanks,” she says. “For speaking up back there.”
The other woman blinks behind her pink glasses. And then she smiles. “When people hold us back for too long, we start doing it for them.” She pats Sienna’s hand. “No excuses now.”
“You’re not worried?”
“About what?”
Sienna hates to say the obvious, but—“Only one of us can win.”
Priscilla cocks her head. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re not competing with each other,” she says, and before Sienna can get her feelings hurt, she adds, “Good writers only compete with themselves.”
