Page 77 of Finding My Forever

There were already about a dozen people sitting at tables chatting and one thing hit me almost immediately. I was the youngest…by several years.

Two women noticed me and instantly stood. They looked to be in their forties or fifties and seemed to be in charge.

“Hello. Welcome to the Portland-South Critique group!” The woman on the left with purple Cat eye glasses greeted me.

“Hi.” My stage smile was firmly in place, but on the inside, I was ready to turn and run.

“I don’t recognize you. Are you new to the group?”

“Oh, of course she is, Marcy. We’d remember a beautiful redhead like her.”

I watched the two go back and forth for a few moments before they seemed to remember a living person was standing in front of them.

“Since it’s you’re first time, we’ll give you a run-through on what we do here.” Marcy turned and faced the room. My heart was in my chest at the thought of her making a public introduction for me. Granted, the crowd was small, but I didn’t want to make an entrance like this. I was kind of hoping there would be more people so I could blend in.

“We sit at tables based on the genre we’re writing.” She gestured to the far table where three people were sitting, talking to each other. “Back there are the horror and mystery writers.” She pointed to another table. “There are our fantasy and sci-fi writers.” She pointed at the table she and her partner had stood from. “That’s the romance table. We sometimes have enough people for a young adult table, but usually, they blend into the other genres. If you write outside of those, we can find you a table you’ll be comfortable with.”

She finally paused and looked at me. Her friend was watching at me with her brows raised. I smiled back at each of them trying to figure out what I was supposed to say or do next.

The woman, whose name I didn’t know yet, patted my arm. “What do you write, honey?”

Oh! Duh!

“I write short stories. I’ve written a few romances, fantasy, and mystery so I’m a little all over the place.” I cringed, realizing how amateurish that must sound.

“No problem. What is the story you’re working on now?” Marcy didn’t seem put off at all, and I allowed myself to relax.

“It’s a Christmas romance.” Their smiles grew simultaneously.

“Well, then! You’re with us.” They led me to their table and introduced me to the other woman at the table before going over the structure of the meetings. We would rotate the material we brought to each person at the table. They would each make notes and at the end, we would talk about each one so the writer could improve their stories.

It was exactly what I was wanting.

I was sitting amongst other writers. It was a little intimidated when I learned they had all published books, but they were so encouraging. They said none of them had started writing seriously until their late thirties, so I was well ahead of the game.

Things were going fine. Just fine. Under normal circumstances, I’d be happy with how things were going with Liam. But these weren’t normal circumstances by any stretch of the imagination, even for my family. Things needed to move faster but I didn’t know how to make it happen.

Katie didn’t seem to care about what was happening. I told her about Liam and everything that happened in New York, and she told me she was sorry. That was it before she changed the subject to competition season. So I relied on Sophia.

Over the past few weeks, she become my best friend. We spoke every day, and I found myself wishing we were going to the same college. If I hadn’t met Liam I’d definitely apply for ASU.

Homework held no appeal for me so I picked up my phone and called her. She answered on the second ring, and I could hear her siblings in the background.

“Hey!”

“Am I interrupting a game?”

“Nah. They’re having a dance contest. I’m just here to make sure they press the right buttons and don’t break the tv.”

“Sounds like every time I babysit.”

“Yeah. Related or not it’s pretty much the same.”

“Do you have a second to talk?”

“Of course, let me get away from the mayhem.” The music quieted and a second later she was back. “Okay. What’s up?”

“There’s a week left.”