Page 60 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

Robyn shook her head and smiled, reading the text thread while the book club tried to solve the next clue. Having only been in town for seven weeks, it felt like an impossible task, but it was the kind of impossible she preferred. It was a cozy mystery problem, like a scavenger hunt. A puzzle with a solution that didn’t involve her inbox.

That’s what she was telling herself anyway. Better than starting to spiral. Her personal life gave her plenty to stress about.

She still hadn’t been brave enough to open her Yale email. She still hadn’t called her parents back. Because as much as they’d grown over the last two months, they still weren’t going to be okay with their daughter writing steamy small-town romances. They would be scandalized. And she would have to hear all about it.

And that was just her parents. Robyn was fairly certain that somewhere in Connecticut, her real life was probably unraveling in real time.

Robyn shoved the thought away.

Krista had texted several times, of course, and Robyn had finally managed to reply with a longer message explaining what had happened, including the detail her sister had already suspected: It had been her ex. Krista’s reply came through immediately.

I’m on my way to commit a felony.

Kidding. Mostly.

But if he were here? I’d hunt him down and throw him in the lake.

Call me when you can breathe. I love you.

As absurd as it was, the threat made Robyn smile, that familiar warmth of knowing her sister had her back no matter what. It helped steady the parts of her that still felt exposed.

She heated a mug of hot apple cider, the scent of cinnamon and clove filling the loft, and finally did what she always did when she needed a moment to herself.

She opened her laptop.

Logged in.

Clicked the draft.

The blank document appeared, the cursor blinking at her like it was waiting for her to get to work.

Robyn rested her hands on the keys and waited for the story to unfurl the way it always did, the way it had for years now. Usually, her characters were loud in her head—insistent, impulsive, demanding. They flirted and fought and made terrible decisions and then found their way back to each other, and all Robyn had to do was keep up and type fast enough.

But this time… nothing came.

She stared at the blinking cursor.

She tried to reread what she’d written a few days earlier. The last scene had been perfect: hot, tender, exactly the kind of chapter her readers devoured and begged for more of. Her characters were finally together now, happy and satisfied and glowing in their little fictional world.

And Robyn couldn’t think of what came next. What conflict did they still have to face? What fears did they still have to outgrow? What flaw still needed healing?

Her mind offered nothing but empty space.

Robyn swallowed, the realization landing slow and heavy in her chest. This had never happened before. Not like this. She’d had days where the words came more slowly, days where she needed coffee and a walk and a pep talk from herself in the mirror.

But she’d never felt… silence.

She watched the cursor blink. Once. Twice.

Her story had suddenly gone quiet. And for the first time ever, Robyn had no idea how to coax it back to life.

TWENTY-EIGHT

TYLER

Tyler got Emma through bedtime with their usual routine, including tooth-brushing negotiation, the dramatic plea for “one more chapter” of the book she was reading, and the inevitable detour into llama facts because, apparently, llamas were now a required part of every evening routine. By the time Emma was finally tucked under her comforter with her stuffed animals lined up, Tyler had kissed her forehead twice and gotten her water once, before she finally started drifting off to sleep.

He should have felt relief, or a sense of calmness that the day was winding down.