And just start over again.
CHAPTER 39
“So,” Jay asked, two hours into the drive. “How’s the manuscript going?”
I blinked in surprise, not expecting him to ask about my writing. “Oh. Um, it’s going well actually.”
We hadn’t talked in a while. After stopping for some snacks and acquiring some corn nuts, I’d been munching in blissful silence.
“That’s all I’m going to get?” he asked, his eyes briefly flicking to me in the passenger seat before returning to the road.
I hesitated, then let out a small breath. “It’s just, weird now. Talking to you about my book.”
“Why is it weird now?” he asked, brow furrowing.
I shifted in my seat, pursing my lips. “Now that I know you’re the son of a literary genius and all.”
Jay groaned, rolling his eyes. “Please don’t do that.”
I crunched loudly on a corn nut. “Do what?”
“Treat me like I’m some extension of her,” he said. “Idon’t want this to change things. I like hearing about your book.”
I eyed him skeptically. “Really?”
“Really. It’s still just me, Hope. Same guy who drills teeth for a living.”
The tension eased just a fraction.
“Okay, well. It’s going well. I’m about halfway through it. I’m unsure exactly how it’s going to end, but I feel like I’m one of those writers who just figure it out along the way.”
“You’re a pantser.”
“A what?”
“A pantser. A writer who flies by the seat of their pants.”
I laughed, surprised at how perfectly that described me. “That is exactly how I am. In fact, I don’t know how to do it any other way.”
He proceeded to ask me a plethora of questions about my book, which led to a pretty lengthy conversation.
What was the motive of my main character?
What made me choose the setting?
What was my inspiration for writing about a girl and her art gallery?
What were the themes?
I found myself rambling for quite a while. No one ever asked me about my book. Emily feigned interest at times, but she was easily distracted. My parents never even gave me the time of day. Even the mention of writing had them eyeing me with slight disdain. If I were writing, that meant I wasn’t doing my schoolwork.
So essentially, I never really got to just talk about it.
“Well, I’m excited to read it when it’s done,” he saidafter a while of my rambling and him peppering me with insistent questions.
I was about to say he would never, in a million years, read a single word I wrote—but before I could, the hotel came into view.
The Fairmont Grand was absolutely stunning. My attention was immediately drawn to the red sandstone exterior and the desert-paradise vibes it gave off. There were several shimmering pools and luxurious fountains. There was even a beautiful barn with horses that guests could take on trail rides.
