Page 98 of Playing the Player

“That’s my girl.” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

“She’s in New York this week. She spent Christmas with her family and will be home tomorrow.”

A post popped up on my Instagram of Sasha, and when I say popped up, I mean I saw it when I was stalking her profile. She was so fucking beautiful that it physically hurt. She was wearing a dark red dress, velvet I think, with sparkles that glinted when the light hit it. And on her feet were the heels that I got her. They made her luscious, tanned legs look miles long.

She looked unreal.

“Oh! She has a meeting with an editor next week too.”

“She finished her book?”

“It’s all she’s been doing. She’s really working her ass off to make this dream come true.”

I feel so much fucking pride right now. My girl is actually doing it and she’s doing it on her own. She’s the strongest woman I know. To go through all the shit she has in the last year and still get out and make something good out of it all. She’s amazing.

For the first time in weeks, I leave the cafe feeling lighter. Knowing she’s healing. Knowing she’s building the life she’s always wanted and becoming the woman she has always wanted to be.

If that journey eventually leads her back to me, I’ll be here. And if it takes a little longer? She’s worth every second of the wait.

40

Sasha

“I have a few notes that I’ll forward to you, but apart from that, everything is really good.” My editor, Julie, says with a warm smile. Did you hear that? My editor!

Almost a month ago, we sat across from each other while she agreed to take me on as a client. I handed my manuscript over that same day and have been a nervous wreck ever since. Every time my phone rang, my heart nearly stopped.

On Friday, she finally called back to say she’d finished reading it and wanted to meet with me to discuss everything.

“Thank you so much for everything, Julie.” I stand from my chair, pulling her into a tight embrace. “This is everything I’ve always wanted.”

“You have a real, natural talent for writing, girl. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you.” My heart warms at her words and a new, unfamiliar feeling washes over me. Pride.

I still can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I wrote a book, a whole ass book and soon, it’ll be published for the whole world to read. It’s terrifying, but in a good way. I have put my blood, sweat and tears into this book. Literally. I cringe and my stomach flips as I think about the day I gave myself a papercut. You could slice me open and I would be okay, but give me a papercut and I’ll feel nauseous.

I met with a publisher last week and they were very happy to bring me on board after reading my manuscript which is just mind blowing. Six months until my book is out in the world. Six months and I’ll be a real, published author. Six months and my dream will have finally come true.

Dreams are funny. They don’t disappear. They just wait until you’re brave enough to come back to them.

These last two months have changed me. For the first time in my life, I’ve learned how to be alone without feeling lonely. I’ve built something that’s mine. I smile more. I laugh more. I wake up every morning happy. Truly happy.

There's only one thing missing… Him.

Olivia’s words have been floating around in my head almost every day since my birthday. Sometimes, falling in love isn’t about trusting the person not to hurt you. It’s about trusting them enough to catch you when you fall.

I have thought about it a lot, making lists for the pros and cons of the whole situation and I was able to fill the pros list with minimal thinking. I sat on it for days, but soon came to find that there were no cons for having Conor back in my life.

I think over these last couple of months, just being on my own, I’ve realized something. Trust has to be built. It has to be earned. And Conor has done both of those things. I just wish I had seen that sooner.

I have finally got my life together and now, I’m ready to take that leap with him. I just hope like hell that he’s ready for me too.

I’ve been here for almost ten minutes now, staring at the door in front of me. My hand is curled into a tight fist, but I can’t find the courage to make myself knock. This is it. This is the one moment that could change my whole life and I’ve never been more terrified.

My stomach is churning, the butterflies colliding so violently they feel more like a storm. Every doubt I’ve ever had is pushing to the forefront of my mind, choosing this exact moment to scream at me, telling me to turn around now before I get hurt.

This was a split second decision. I left Julie’s office and instead of driving home, my car brought me here. I didn’t even realize where I was until I got out of my car and stared up at the building in front of me.