Page 20 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

“Right. I appreciate it and realize how much I was missing that with Dean.”

“It’s been two and a half months. You are over Dean, aren’t you?”

“Yes. And the farther away I get from him, the more I realize I was over him a long time ago.”

Over him, but trying so desperately to hang on to what I dreamed and thought our life was going to be like. Only, it turns out that I was the only one who was planning for a future. A future that lately I’ve been wondering if I was more worried about derailing than anything else. It’s hard for me to feel settled when things are unsettled, unknown, and walking away was just as scary as staying.

“I tried to tell you that last Christmas. Neither one of you was acting like a couple in love.”

I don’t think it’s that we weren’t acting like a couple in love; I think it’s more like we were hanging on to an important friendship that we’d had for so long. At least that’s what it was for me. It’s hard to let go of someone who’s been so important and such a big part of your life for so long. Yes, he changed, but I’m sure if you asked him, he’d say I’ve changed too.

“Yeah, you were right. We had become more friends then than we were anything else.”

Along with seeing those posts of my friends on social media, last Christmas I also watched Lance and Casey. I know I was making excuses for us when I told myself this was normal, that we were normal after eight years, but Lance and Casey never stopped touching each other. They laughed together, she sat on his lap, he was constantly coming up behind her and hugging her, and although they’ve been together just a little longer than Dean and I had, their relationship didn’t look like friendship. Theirs genuinely looked like love. Dean and I weren’t affectionate like them, and it had me wondering if we ever were.

“Well, enough about Dean. How’s the writing going?”

I turn and look at the bed. There are the Post-it Notes, and then the vision board items I got from Horizons Valley. A postcard of the town in the fall, a visitors map that highlights all of the shops on Main Street, a flyer for Red Barn Orchard and their amazing cider donuts, and a folder from the resort/ski lodge that talked about their history, year-round activities and events, wedding packages, and more.

“Slow. I have started. It’s like I know some of the beginning of the story and maybe some of the middle, but the end still isn’t clear.”

“Why? What do you think the problem is?”

“I’m trying to come up with a compelling black moment. I’m working on their character arcs, and I want their breakup to be realistic. Less about miscommunication and more about deep-rooted fears.”

“Do they have to have a black moment?”

“Well, I guess technically no, but it is part of the formula for a romance novel and kind of what happens in real life.”

“But is it, though? When Gage and I started dating, we both just knew.”

Morgan and Gage really are the cutest. They met in a country bar in Nashville, he asked her to dance, and now here they are two years later. I know they’re talking about getting married. Their happiness was another pile of dirt thrown onto my fire, dulling the flame.

“You and Gage are unicorns. You met at the perfect time. People have baggage, trust issues, mental barriers, and scars. Sometimes it’s just not that easy.”

“Do you think maybe you’re projecting your own life onto the characters?”

I look around the room, and my eyes fall on my suitcases in the closet. I’m twenty-six years old, living out of a suitcase, and trying to figure out the next chapter of my life. Of course I’m projecting. “Most likely, therapist Morgan,” I say, agreeing with her. There’s no reason to lie.

She chuckles.

“I have figured out the character layout of this series, and I’ve been very detailed on the new setting. This small town is the perfect backdrop, and I love how it’s coming together. I’ve been doing all the research on the different professions for my characters as I work out the kinks for book one.”

“I think next week we should schedule a call, one where you don’t avoid me, and we start building the series bible, plan on a release schedule for teasers, trope reveal, cover reveal, et cetera. It’s time to get moving.”

“I agree. You know I love a good plan.”

“You should also plan on spying on your roommate a little. You’ve got to give me something. I mean, come on, Lil. Tyler. Quinn.”

A smile breaks free, and my cheeks heat. There’s no reason for them to, but she’s not wrong, and I’ve pinched myself at least a dozen times thinking this can’t be real. Yet here I am and there he is each morning, looking kind of sleepy and warm, like he’s just crawled out of bed. Which he has, and I’m the one who gets to see him this way.

“Roommates. Roommates. Roommates,” I chant to myself.

That and I keep reminding myself, no more athletes. If I messed this up, Lance would never forgive me.

“I know. I know. If something happens, I’ll let you know.”

“You’d better.”