Page 85 of One More Chapter
“What about you, Pen?” Lucy asks.
I startle. I’ve been so good at hiding my holiday plans behind closed doors that I sometimes forget that my friendscare. Little do they know, I’ve been lying to them for years—when I say I’m visiting family, I’m usually in New York for the holidays working with Rafe, or on a writer’s retreat somewhere outside of Boston.
My brother, Connor, spends his holidays with his dad’s family. My mom and I don’t speak—the last time we talked was two Christmases ago when she asked me to go to Florida with her. I’d had my heart broken twice in one trip: Once by her, and once by Anthony.
I can’t lie this year, though, because one of the people asking is also my roommate. He’ll know if I’m lying. It’s not like I can lock myself in my bedroom and hide.
“Uh… Honestly, I’ll probably be doing a lot of writing. Lock myself in the writing cave and try to finish this book.” I take a big swig of my wine to avoid the silent stares that I know willinevitably be followed by invitations. Thankfully, Claire comes to the rescue.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, when do I get to beta read for Finn and Delilah?”
I wince.
“Soon…ish? They’re giving me a headache.”
And in all reality, theyare. But only because their happily ever after has somehow turned into what I expected Ant and mine to be. It started as stealing a little nugget here and a little nugget there, but lately, it has been spiraling out of control. I even typed “Anthony” instead of “Finn” the other day while writing a sex scene, and had to take a lap around the neighborhood to clear my head.
“I just want them to have their happily ever after. And, okay, they need to bang already. There wassomuch tension in Evy and Beckett’s book, and they were only in thebackground!”
“Geez, woman, control yourself!” Aaron jokes. “You’re talking about your friend’s smut in front of her boss.”
My heart stutters.
This was always one of my fears: Being a teacher that writes bestselling romance on the side has been my best kept secret. Now, though, my boss is in my circle of friends. I was just getting used to sharing meals with him when I moved in for a few weeks after the pipes exploded. Now, he has been plopped into the awkward position I never wanted him to be in.
But Nathan, being the simple man that he is, simply tilts his head.
“I don’t mind. She writes on her own time. Several employees in the district have two jobs. I’m quite certain, actually, that one of our first year teachers has a YouTube channel. What you’re doing isn’t illegal, and you’re good at it. You do it on your own time, and not during school hours. Who am I to judge or stop you?”
Tension melts off of me like ice on a summer sidewalk. But in the same moment, it mounts right back up.
If there’s nothing standing in my way, what the hell is stopping me from going after what I want?
thirty-two
anthony
Penelope was quiet tonight.More so than usual.
I almost want to chalk it up to my presence in her space, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Even after Nate gave her the go-ahead as her boss to keep writing her books, she was so reserved tonight that it kind of scared me.
We arrive home, parking side by side in the garage. I help her carry in the leftovers that we snagged from the party, and we Tetris them into the fridge in silence. We part in the dining room and head to our separate sides of the house to change into pajamas. I’m wired enough to know that it will be a couch night for the next several hours, but I fear that she’s going to retreat into her own headspace. It’s not my place to intrude or ask, no matter how much we’ve been sort of getting along lately. I’m antsy as I brush my teeth, but all of those little bugs in my head fall to the floor when I nearly run her over in the hallway. Inmyhallway. Like she was coming to see me.
“Woah there, boss. Take it easy.”
It’s meant to be a joke, but just the sight of her, red tinted cheeks and mountains of anxiety buildingin her eyes, forces it out breathlessly. I steady her with both hands on her shoulders,and she immediately loosens beneath my touch.I can’t handle that.
“Hey, you okay?”
She sighs, eyes fluttering closed, and I squeeze her there, holding her steady until she’s ready to talk.
“I just have a lot on my mind.”
She shakes her head, and I can see the exhaustion labeling the bags beneath her eyes. Tilting my head toward my bedroom door behind me, I lift the corner of my mouth. She follows, almost like she can’t help it, and I have to beat up my stupid heart for its excited little fist pump.
We settle on my bed, and I am instantly washed in memories of the last time we were here. Weeks ago, her skin against mine, her cries of my name painting the walls in a brand new color. But even more, it’s the coconut scent of her hair on my pillow that’s clinging on for dear life, and the shape of her head on my chest that I’ve been trying desperately to keep there.
Lying beside one another, on top of the covers, she looks at ease. Her index finger starts drawing aimless little patterns in the duvet. I wait patiently, something I’ve just come to realize is a staple with Penelope Barker in my life.