Page 31 of Long Story Short

“And feeding yourself proper meals.”

I roll my eyes. “What is up with you making sure I eat?”

Tyson shrugs. “Because I care. Now, tell me about how writing’s going.”

“Writing’s not going,” I immediately respond. I pull my legs to my chest and wrap my arms around them, my stare still trained on Tyson.

“Why do you think you’re struggling with it?” he asks, his tone soft. He watches me closely, and I try not to shiver under the intensity of his stare. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man so genuinely interested in what I have to say. It’s refreshing, but also terrifying. I don’t know if I want to dive into why I think this book isn’t working with him because it doesn’t feel like I know him well enough to go to that level. But then again, there’s some kind of connection between us that has me open to discussing my lack of being able to write with him.

I chew on my lip for a moment before resting my chin on my knees. He leans in a little closer, his attention solely on me. “My biggest problem with it so far is that it feels like the two main characters lack connection.”

“Yeah, I bet it’s hard writing a romance book when you feel like there’s no romantic connection.”

“Exactly,” I mutter with a defeated sigh. “It’s like I know they have the potential, and I know they can have an epic love story, but I just can’t think how to make that happen.”

“Have you ever thought maybe it’d help if you just took a break from the book for a bit and came back to it?”

I groan as I sit back. My knees stay pulled up on the chair, but I fold my arms over my chest. “I think that’d help a ton, but I don’t have the time to walk away from it. It has to be done in less than six weeks at this point.”

“Can your publisher give you more time?”

I shake my head. “No. They were very clear in the meeting that the book needed to be done. Plus, my pride is on the line. I refuse to go back and ask for more time.”

Tyson cocks his head to the side, his blue gaze inquisitively raking over me. “Why’s that?”

My lips purse as I decide how honest with him I want to be. I let out a long breath of air as I decide I might as well tell the truth. “It’s complicated, but basically, my ex-boyfriend is the director of marketing at my publishing house. While my editor gently told me I needed to rework some things for the book, my ex wasn’t quite as kind. I refuse to ask for any more of an extension on this book because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Plus, I really just want to prove to myself and everyone at my publishing house that I can write a good book in the timeframe we have right now.”

Tyson nods in understanding. He traces his knuckle over his top lip as he thinks about what I just said. I like that he doesn’t immediately give a response. It’s just more proof that he actually takes in what I tell him.

“Well then, let’s talk more about what’s holding you up with writing. That way, you can prove to everyone and yourself that you can turn in the best damn book they’ve ever read next month.”

Warmth floods through my body at his words. I attempt to hide my smile behind my hand, but I’m sure he still sees it. “We’ll see. It seemed that the entire publishing team didn’t believe I could make this timeline happen.”

“You’re going to prove all of them wrong.”

EIGHTEEN

TYSON

“Before we talk about how the connection between my characters suck, maybe we should move from the kitchen to the living room. These chairs aren’t that comfortable,” Josie notes, pointing in the direction of her living room.

I nod and immediately slide out of my chair. I’ll go anywhere she wants in this house if it means I get to spend more time with her. I hold a hand out to help her out of her chair, but she doesn’t take it. Instead, she easily pushes her body out of her seat and makes her way into the large living room.

It’s dark, but enough moonlight filters in through the windows to allow me to get a good look around. Two large couches sit in the space. Style-wise, the furniture doesn’t look like it was manufactured anytime recently, but the pieces are still in impeccable shape. With all these discussions I’ve recently been having with Winnie about furniture and finding new pieces or looking for vintage ones, I can appreciate the furniture in Josie’s living room. So far, everything looks like the decor was picked straight from a French cottage home and placed in the middle of the Hamptons.

“Feel free to sit anywhere,” Josie instructs. She kicks a pair of slippers underneath the coffee table, her eyes quickly traveling to me as if to see if I saw them or not.

I smile because her version of messy is adorable. The only proof that she’s even been in the living room was the pair of slippers she’s now attempted to hide and a crumpled-up blanket on the couch with a laptop set on top of it.

I stay standing, waiting to see where she’ll sit before taking my own seat. There’s a pull to sit as close to her as possible, but since I’m not sure if she’d be okay with that, I sit down on the opposite side of the couch as she does.

Josie pulls the blanket into her lap just as Mouse jumps up onto the couch with us. He looks over at Josie for a moment before he prances over to me and curls up in my lap.

She stares at her cat with her mouth hanging open. “I really don’t understand why he loves you that much. He doesn’t ever warm up to people, especially men, this fast.”

A rumble comes from deep in my chest. “Like I’ve said, maybe you’ve just been around the wrong men.” I try to keep my words light and teasing, but there’s a raspiness to them that’s hard to miss. Even if I just met her and her past is none of my business, there’s still a tinge of jealousy at the mention of any other men in her life.

“Mouse, is he sneaking you treats when I’m not around?” Josie asks playfully, seemingly undeterred by my previous question. In fact, I swear, even in the dimness of the room, I can see a hint of pink on her cheeks.