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I’d rather just stop drinking or something.
I open the door to my red Lamborghini, feeling a sense of relief now that I’m finally getting out of here. I climb in and start the engine, reveling in the sound of its power—pushing all thoughts of fake fiancées and custody battles out of my mind.
As I pull away from the curb, my phone buzzes.
Ugh, leave me alone, Roger, I think to myself before pulling up to the stoplight and opening my text messages. I’m surprised to see the text wasn’t from Roger...
Sawyer: Bailey and I will be renewing our vows next month. I’ll send over the details. Hope you can make it.
I roll my eyes at my brother’s text, already feeling suffocated by the idea of attending another family event where I’m the outsider. It definitely doesn’t help that I’m the only brother who isn’t married.
They want me to settle down even more than Roger does.
I shake my head at the thought before noticing an older man standing on the curb, holding a sign asking for money. Without thinking twice, I reach into my pocket and grab a hundred-dollar bill, rolling down the window to hand it off.
The man’s eyes widen in surprise as he takes the money from me. “Thank you so much!” he says, his voice shaking slightly. “God bless you!”
I nod at him before driving away, but with each passing mile, I can’t stop thinking about what Roger said.
Maybe showing up to Sawyer and Bailey’s vow renewal and being there for my family could help me in court. Plus, it would be a chance to see my son.
I really miss my son.
I type out a quick response at the next stoplight, telling Sawyer I’ll be there, and then toss my phone in the passenger seat.
I turn up the music, letting the sound of the guitar drown out my thoughts.
As I speed down the highway, I can’t shake the feeling that my life is spiraling out of control, especially with the added pressure of custody battles and maintaining a clean public image.
I feel like I’m drowning. And I hate it.
Maybe it’s time to make a change.
Chapter Two
Callie
Laptop, check.
Charger, check.
Notebook, check.
Earbuds, check.
As I zip up my laptop bag, I notice Bear, my beloved pup, looking up at me with his big, soulful eyes and his head cocked to one side as if saying, “Are you really going to leave me again?” I kneel down so that we’re face-to-face and give him a big hug.
“Sorry, buddy. I’ve got to get some work done, but I’ll be back soon.” Bear wags his tail and licks my face. I give him one final pat on the head before standing up.
Oh! I nearly forgot my lucky pen. I grab the sparkly teal pen that writes as smooth as butter from my desk.
When my sister, Beth, gifted me this pen two years ago, I had just started outlining my debut novel. I joked that the sparkles would “make my writing sparkle.”
I proceeded to outline and draft my novel using this pen—envisioning my story unfolding on paper with every stroke. And after months of writing, editing, and re-writing, my novel was ready for publishing. My small-town thriller, much to my surprise, received overwhelming praise from readers all over the world. Before long, it was ranked in the Top 100 on Amazon’s bestseller list!
So naturally, this is now my lucky pen.
Although, lately I’m beginning to question if its luck is running out. My last novel didn’t receive anywhere close to the same response as my debut. The reviews were mixed, and the sales were nothing like before.
