“I cried,” Amber announces. “Twice. The scene where he finally shows her the manuscript? Destroyed me.”
“The lighthouse scene,” Jo adds. “When he admits he’s been writing about her the whole time? I had to put the book down and take a walk.”
“It’s fiction,” Jessica mumbles into her wine.
“It’s your life, sweetie.” Michelle reaches over to squeeze her knee. “And it’s beautiful.”
We go around the circle, sharing favorite moments and lines. I’ve read the book—twice, actually—and I understand why it’s resonating. Scott wrote about a man so afraid of being seen that he hid behind a pen name for years. A man who fell in love through letters before he could admit it out loud. A man whose writer’s block wasn’t really about writing at all. It was about fear.
“So let’s talk about the block,” Hazel says, flipping to a new page in her notebook. “Nathan can’t write for months. He thinks he’s lost it forever. What do you think was really going on?”
“Fear,” Caroline offers quietly. “He was afraid that if he wrote something real, people would see the real him.”
“And reject him,” Grandma Hensley adds. “The way his father did.”
Jessica is studying her wine glass like it contains the secrets of the universe. “Scott said the hardest part was admitting the block wasn’t about craft. It was about vulnerability. He’d built so many walls that he couldn’t access his own emotions anymore.”
“That’s relatable,” Amber says. “Not the bestselling author part. But the walls part.”
Everyone murmurs agreement.
“So what finally broke through?” Hazel asks. “In the book, it’s Lily. She sees through his defenses. But what do you think really did it for Nathan?”
“Being known,” Jo says softly. “Someone finally saw the real him—not the author, not the persona—and didn’t run away.”
My chest tightens.
Michelle glances at me, then back at the group. “You know who this reminds me of? Levi.”
The room goes quiet.
“Levi Beckett?” Amber asks. “Dean’s brother? The singer?”
“He comes into the coffee shop every morning.” Michelle’s voice is casual, but I feel her watching me from the corner of her eye. “Sits in the same booth. Stares at a blank notebook for hours. He’s completely blocked.”
“That’s so sad,” Caroline says. “His early stuff was really good.”
“His early stuff was incredible,” Michelle agrees. “Raw and real and emotional. But somewhere along the way, he lost it. Same thing Scott went through.”
Jessica perks up. “I could ask Scott to talk to him.He loves mentoring other artists, and he definitely understands the block thing.”
“I suggested he talk to Scott as well. Not sure if he ever did or not,” Michelle explains.
“It’s a wonderful idea,” Hazel says. “Community helping community.”
“Speaking of community.” Grandma Hensley sets down her wine glass with deliberate care like she’s about to drop a revelation. “Delilah, dear. How exactly do you know Levi?”
Eight pairs of eyes turn to me.
I take a very long sip of wine.
“We grew up together,” I say, aiming for casual and landing somewhere around constipated. “Kind of. I spent summers here when I was young.”
“And?” Grandma Hensley prompts.
“And...we dated. Briefly. A long time ago.”
“How long ago?” Jo asks.
