When the muffins were gone and his coffee was empty, he set his cup aside and leaned back. Still tired, but not so much that he couldn’t get on with his day. He had about a third of the book left to read through.
So far, it was good. Better than he’d remembered, which was a nice surprise. But he still had no big idea about where the next book should go. No great new twists or turns for the characters that would have his readers talking.
His mind just didn’t seem to work that way anymore. The deal with Netflix hadn’t helped. At all.
The blasted show producers had changed some things in the storyline and while it shouldn’t affect what he was writing, those changes were hard to ignore.
He knew what would happen once the new book came out. He’d get letters and emails from readers wanting to know whyhe’dchanged things. They’d confuse what happened in the show with what was going on in the books. Or they’d think he was the one writing the show, which he wasn’t. It happened all the time.
Knowing that reader reaction was inevitable didn’t help the creative process. It was borrowing trouble from tomorrow, as Jeanie would have said, but those thoughts were in his brain, and he couldn’t find a way to shake them.
He went inside to refill his coffee cup and start his day. But instead of going back to his office, he went into the bedroom so he could take a shower and put on a fresh change of clothes.
Joyce was in there, dusting and wiping down the wood furniture with lemon polish. “Be out in a second.”
“I can shower in the other bathroom.”
“Nonsense.” She tidied the top of his dresser, although there wasn’t much on there that needed tidying. “How were the muffins?”
He frowned. “You put nuts in them.”
“How many did you eat?”
“Two,” he said begrudgingly.
“Hmph. Walnuts are a grand source of antioxidants, and they help decrease inflammation in the body. At least one of us cares about keeping you healthy.” She went back to her polishing.
“I’m plenty healthy. And I don’t have any inflammation.”
Her brows rose and she cut her eyes at him as if to say he had all sorts of things and inflammation was the least of them. She dropped the duster in her cleaning caddy and headed out. “So you won’t be wanting the rest of those muffins then?”
He grunted. “No. I’ll eat them.”
“Hmm.” She hesitated outside the room. “Pork tenderloin with orange glaze for dinner.”
He shrugged. “I could just eat the leftover pot roast.”
“You will. For lunch.” She went on her way.
He took his coffee into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. He should change and go for a run, but he didn’t have it in him right now. Maybe after he worked a bit. He could go out this evening when the day started to cool.
He cranked on the shower, letting the water get good and hot, then he got in and tried to wash away the poor sleep and the restless dreams. Dreams his neighbor had no right to show up in. She was attractive. He’d give her that. But in his mind, he was still a married man.
He felt guilty for thinking about her, whatever her name was. He felt like he’d cheated on Jeanie.
He hadn’t. He understood that. But the weight of those thoughts were there, pressing on him like a reminder that he had already found his soulmate. He’d been in love with the most amazing woman in the world.
Jeanie had been the one. She’d been all he needed. Unlike most people he knew, he’d been fortunate enough to marry the love of his life. He’d spent twenty-nine incredible years with her before cancer had changed everything.
Twenty-nine years was a good amount of time. Almost three decades. It was more than some people got. It should have been enough. He tipped his face into the spray. Itwasenough.
Except when it wasn’t.
He flattened his hands on the tiled shower walls and pressed his forehead between them, letting the cold tile soothe his tortured mind.
It sucked that Arlington was gone, too. Arlington always had the right words to say for whatever Mitch was feeling. The man just knew. Mitch had treasured his counsel. Their friendship had gotten him through the worst of things after Jeanie passed.
But losing Arlington had sent Mitch into freefall again. He had no one to talk to. No one to turn to. No wiser, older mentor figure with the insight Mitch so desperately needed.
