Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Honey, I’m sorry if I didn’t say good things about it. I feel like a terrible mother, like I should have somehow known it was your book.”
I shake my head. “It was fiction. How would you have known?”
“How did Eric find out?” Shaun sits on the opposite end of the sofa as my mom.
I grunt, feeling something between laughter and tears building inside of me. “I like to call it the worst luck imaginable, but I’m sure it could be a classic case of divine intervention. Eric’s parents owned the publishing company where I submitted my manuscript. I had to find a publisher who would accept a submission directly from an author without going through a literary agent. Eric occasionally helped his parents go through the slush pile. Guess whose manuscript was in that pile?”
They share a wide-eyed gaze.
“We never discussed his parents’ business. He never told me about his side gig. It was lack of communication and…” I sigh, “…a terrible lie on my part. A lie of omission. And that lie ruined us.”
“Because you couldn’t handle him not liking your book?” Shaun asks.
“Yes. No.” I shake my head. “I was too invested in my book. As I said, I felt like it held a piece of my soul. And I knew I would always feel like he didn’t love that part of my soul. When I left him, I felt like a failure in every way imaginable.”
“Oh, Anna …” Mom scoots to the sofa's edge and rests her hand on my good foot. “You are not a failure. You wrote a book. That’s huge, honey.”
“It felt huge. Not so much anymore. I walked away from a great guy because I couldn’t separate myself from my work.”
“Maybe this is a second chance.” Leave it to my mom to look for a silver lining.
“It’s complicated. I’d love to meet him for the first time now. But he’ll always know what happened, and so will I. And he lives in Kansas City. It wasn’t meant to be. I think it is a chance to reconcile the past. Nothing more.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Eric
Eric: Walking?
Anna: Hi! Not yet
Anna: Today I got a boot. My mom left two weeks ago
Anna: I’m a pro with crutches
It’s been weeks since I messaged her. I thought she’d keep the conversation going, but she didn’t. So here I am … itching to talk to her.
Eric: I need a video of this new “pro”fession
Minutes later, my phone chimes. It’s a video of Anna in shorts, a tee, her boot, and a massive smile while navigating a flight of stairs.
Eric: Now ur just showing off
Anna: Lol. I’m sweating. Stairs are a beast. I’m sure u saw me pitting out
I grin.
Eric: U look pretty today
I watch the typing bubbling appear and disappear over and over.
Eric: Say it
Anna: Don’t say those words. I’m too vulnerable
Eric: Why?
Anna: Immobility = depression. I’ve had so much anxiety—panic attacks
Anna: When my mom was here, she helped me through them
Anna: Since she’s been gone, I’ve had to deal with them alone
Eric: Sorry to hear that. U still look pretty
Anna: (crying emojis)
Eric: (hug emojis)
Anna: Sorry
Anna: Shaun’s mom is in the hospital. So he’s in Maine for who knows how long
Anna: It’s quiet. I’m going crazy
Anna: Of course it’s my right leg so I can’t drive
Anna: Yesterday I paid an Uber driver to take me for a ride
Anna: Just a ride (laughing emoji/face-palm emoji)
Eric: Wanna FaceTime?
Anna: Sure
She answers her call on the first ring. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I can’t hide my grin. Her hair’s in braided pigtails.
“When do you start physical therapy?”
Anna sighs, blowing her bangs out of her face. “Next week.”
“Tell me about the anxiety.”
She proceeds to tell me about her panic attacks. We talk for over an hour, and I have to end it because I have a podcast interview.
“This was fun. You have no idea how much I needed to have a face-to-face conversation with someone besides my mom. Freya’s pregnant and refuses to FaceTime with me because her face is too puffy.”
“Well, I’m your guy. Anytime you want to see my handsome face, it’s yours.”
“I see you haven’t lost an ounce of confidence.”
“Yeah, right. That’s why it took me so long to tell you why I visited you after your accident.”
“True.” Her lips twist.
“Take care.” I give her a cheesy wave.
She mirrors my cheesy wave, but it doesn’t look cheesy coming from her.
Once an idiot, always an idiot.
A real job with a real boss would be useful when I get hair-brained ideas like this one.
“I think you need out of the house,” I casually tell my dad while unloading the dishwasher.
“You're kicking me out?” he asks from my recliner that he’s claimed as his own.
“Not yet. I’m suggesting a trip. When’s the last time you took a trip?”
“When She kicked me out.”
She, with a capital “S,” is my mom. Although, he’s consistent and says “Her” with a capital “H” when necessary. I miss my parents, Bill and Alice. Now I’m dealing with She/Her and Man Child. Yes, my mom refers to my dad as Man Child because he lost all rights to be a grown man after throwing a tantrum the day she moved him out.