Page 25 of Novel Problems
“Perfect. I’m planning to whip up another batch of cornbread tonight, so you’ll be able to enjoy it with that tomorrow.”
“Oh, yum! I’m happy to stay and help if you’d like.”
As tempting as Hannah’s offer was, she’d already had a long day, and I didn’t want to tire out my only employee.
“Thanks for the offer, but I should be fine. Cornbread is pretty easy to make. If I do a good enough job, Romina may not even notice the difference.”
Hannah chuckled. “Well, your secret is safe with me.” A serious look crossed her face, and she swallowed. “Um, speaking of secrets?—"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Shit.It sounded like the smoke alarm was going off in the kitchen again.
My heart sank.What now?
We looked at each other wide-eyed for a second and then jumped up and raced back to the kitchen.
When we got there, I surveyed the kitchen and exhaled. While the noise from the alarm in the kitchen was ear-piercing, there was no sign of any new smoke. Hannah had a pained look on her face and was holding her hands over her ears.
“Phew!” I yelled to Hannah, who took her hands off her ears so she could hear me. “It looks like everything’s fine. It must just be the sensors acting up. Why don’t you head home, and I’ll sort this out.”
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Hannah yelled.
“Yes!” I shouted. “I should just be able to reset it. It’s really easy. No point in us both injuring our hearing being exposed to this racket.”
Hannah nodded, covering her ears with her hands again, and turned to leave. As I went to get a ladder to reset the alarm, I remembered that Hannah had started to say something before the smoke alarm started sounding again.I wonder what it could have been?Presumably, if it was important, Hannah would tell me tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HANNAH
Walking home, full of delicious pulled pork, I replayed the events of the last two hours. Being trapped in the shed with George. The extremely pleasant sensation of her firm, round butt in my hands. George confirming she was queer, news that had sent butterflies excitedly swarming in my belly. Almost confessing to her that I was H. M. Stuart, only to be interrupted by the smoke alarm. It had been a long, eventful day and I should have been exhausted, especially after staying up late last night writing. But surprisingly, I wasn’t.
As soon as I opened the gate to my cottage, my brain shifted gears into writing mode. I slammed my front door shut, threw my satchel on the side table and walked quickly into the study, eager to pour more words on the page.
I skipped over the sex scene—I usually found them the hardest to write—but other than that, the words kept coming so fast my fingers could barely keep up.
My bladder eventually interrupted my writing flow. Bursting to pee, I ignored it until the urge was too strong toignore anymore. I reluctantly got up and began walking to the bathroom.What is the time, I wonder?I raised my arm and glanced down at my wrist.Shit.12:26 a.m. I needed to be at Novel Gossip by 8 a.m. Part of me wanted to keep going, to make the most of the dam that had finally broken, but I knew I’d regret it in the morning. I’d already stayed up way too late. I didn’t want to be an overtired mess in front of George tomorrow.
I changed into my pajamas, took off my glasses, and flopped into bed, but I could not turn off my mind. I kept thinking of new ideas for my book and picking up the notepad I kept by the bed to write them down. I had no doubt that, tomorrow, most of my ideas would seem ridiculous, but I knew from past experience that every so often, one would be a spark of genius. My mind slowed, and I was finally drifting off to sleep when—shit.My eyes opened. The problem I’d been putting off dealing with all day barreled into my mind. I had to sign 841 copies ofThe Realm of Furiesbetween now and 3pm, and I still hadn’t told George who I was.
After I’d received an email from Emma this morning, reminding me the books would be picked up tomorrow afternoon, I’d promised myself I’d tell George today, but work had been so hectic, there never seemed to be a good time. I’d tried to tell George over our delectable pulled pork dinner, but just as I’d gathered the courage to speak the smoke alarm went off and George insisted I go home. I was so worried about further damaging my hearing, I’d obeyed. And now, here I was, only fourteen hours away from the books being collected, and I still hadn’t come clean to her.
My stomach sank as I realized that I’d put it off so long that, even if I got up enough courage to tell George in the morning, I’d have to spend most of my shift signing books.And there was no way George would be able to manage without me.
Shit.
And then a thought struck me.
I had a key to Novel Gossip.
It’s not like you’re sleeping anyway.Being tired tomorrow seemed like a better option than not getting the books signed and letting down my readers, or spending the day signing the books and letting down George.
Re-energized, I sat up, throwing the duvet off me.
Time for some late-night book signing.
Thirty minutes later,I stood outside of Novel Gossip, looking around to make sure no one was present to witness my next move. Turning my head side to side, I felt like a cartoonish villain in a bad heist film. I’d slipped on my usual around-the-house outfit of black leggings and a black sweater without thinking. All that was missing was a black balaclava.
