“Let’s see,” I opened the most recent one, “I have been hiking in Oregon recently and found a waterfall on my last trip. Some things I haven’t done, are going whale watching, getting a piercing, zip lining, horseback riding, take a cruise, go on a date,” I’m cut off by his snickering, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Nothing. Sorry, continue,” I gave him a little pout, but went back to reading, “I want to go to a Renaissance fair.” That had him snickering again, so I slammed my notebook shut and stood quickly.
“I’m done!” I stormed inside, irritated because he was laughing at my dreams and goals, and things I wanted to try. I wanted to try everything at least once. I just wanted to be able to say I’d done it. That I had done everything I wanted, even if I was having to put certain dreams on hold. I knew I was being irrational as I stormed downstairs, putting my cup in the dishwasher and storming to my room, slamming the door. I was leaning up against the door, trying to keep the stupid tears at bay because now I was embarrassed, and couldn’t believe I’d acted so immature.
“I can’t see you at a renaissance fair,” he tried to keep a soft, but firm voice as he talked to me through the door, but I still heard him stifling his laughter again, “milady.” He started belly laughing behind the door. It was a beautiful sound, and I could imagine him with his head tossed back. A man who was always composed, losing himself in laughter. I smiled at the thought of him doing that as I dried my tears, then laughed atmyself. I imagined us dressed up in proper period clothing for a fair and using the old-timey language that I wasnotconfident in at all. I started laughing harder, sliding down the door. I picture Sebastian dressed up in the puffy shirts or the tights and high heels. That thought just made me laugh harder, practically wheezing, I was laughing so hard at this point.
“Now,” I tried to get out through the laughter, “now we have to do it! I need to see if you look as ridiculous in tights and high heels as I think you would.” We both laughed at that as I opened my room. He was sitting on the floor, right where I was. We sat back down and leaned our backs against each other, just enjoying spending time together and making plans.
As friends.
Let’s do this.
S I X: Two Years Later.
Sebastian’s POV
Two years had passed since I first met Stormi at the café in town. Something I knew was happening, something I wanted, was that I’ve fallen completely in love with her. Her smile, her laugh, being within her orbit became a drug for me. It was something that I couldn’t escape. She pulled me in, so steadily, so surely. She was a constant in my life while we worked on these books. We were spending more and more time with each other, not just as writer and editor, too.
We were hanging out as friends. I met the two women she considered family. Both over FaceTime calls, but she was private with them, keeping them close, tucked away, until about eight months ago. That was when she answered the door, on a call with them, and introduced me to them. I wasn’t prepared, but they told me they’d heard stories about me. About helping her with her list.
I blushed, harder than I think I’d ever blushed when the woman, Emily, the woman Stormi calledMomaffectionately, teased me.
Iwasthe one who helped her check things off her list,andwith writing book two, ‘Figuring Out Myself’. We had checked off everything from that first list in no time, except for a few things, but she kept adding more. More things she was comfortable with, or ‘as ready as I’ll ever be’, things she wanted to do. She never did go on that date that was on her list. When I asked her why one time, she said she was holding onto that until she was ready and found someone worthy of being that first dateafter.
She said she was thinking of turning that into its own book called ‘Dating after Betrayal’. She had been thinking of date ideas and turned that into its own section in the Bucket List Book. We were discussing some of those ideas, and she randomly said, “There’s someone I have in mind, but I’m not sure if I could ever ask him. Does that make me a coward?’ She was looking out over the waterfall in front of us after we’d just hiked up here. I wasn’t expecting that. I also wasn’t sure who the guy was, but I didn’t like the idea of her dating someone…other than me. I didn’t like the idea of someone else holding her hand, walking her to her door at the end of the night, kissing her, maybe walking inside and…that’s where I had to stop my thoughts because if not, I’d start punching trees like a fucking jealous moron. It made me want to punch that guy, whoever the fuck he was. I wanted her to be mine, not with anyone else, but now with this? Having a guy in mind? I was worried and almost positive that I had waited too long.
Now I was condemned to the friend zone.
It was two days later, and I was still thinking about it, trying to figure out who it would be. Maybe Marty from the softball team? Or was it Tim from pottery class? I couldn’t think of a single guy we knew from any of the numerous classes or clubs, or teams we had joined, who didn’t think we were already together.
Fuck!
Who was he?!
I was on my way to her house with Alex, not fully able to listen to what he had been trying to tell me for the last thirty minutes we’d been in the car. I couldn’t stop running through the possible guys it could be. Who was it?! Trying to shift myfocus, I tried to remember the reason we were on our way to see her.
We had seen a campaign over the last few weeks of largely negative reviews on both of her self-help books that we published. We hired a cyber specialist to trace back where the reviews were coming from, and a PI to see if they had any sort of luck. Twenty of the reviews came from her family. Namely, her mother's and her sister’s computers. I was sure the others were from peopletheyknew or had talked to about the books and how they had to be hers. Or they were crazy enough to go to an internet café and make more.
Alex was here to discuss what we could do about it. We had a journalist reach out to us yesterday for a comment, and I knew I couldn’t keep this from her any longer. Not when I was getting questions like,‘Why is your author writing about private family matters that are completely unfounded? Do you know about the family claiming they’re hiring a lawyer to sue for slander and defamation?’
Iwas flabbergasted because that was not Stormi. She wouldn’t publish something like thing, where worst case scenario was someone found out Artemis was her, that insinuated a lot of people looked really fucking shitty without some kind of proof. As her friend, and more importantly, the man who loved her more and more each day, I couldn’t keep this from her. It wouldn’t be right. It would hurt her trust in me, and that would be the worst possible outcome. We had come so far, and she deserved to be able to face this head-on. She deserved to know as soon as I did two hours ago when I called Alex for backup.
I was going to throw my weight behind her. It wasn’t a lot of weight in the publishing industry, but I knew I was on friendly terms with the right people.
Pulling up her drive, I saw her SUV in the driveway. The chimney had smoke coming out of it, indicating she was here and probably cuddled up on the couch, eating her comfort food, or grilled cheese and tomato soup with so many saltine crackers that it became mush.
Getting out with my umbrella, I made my way to her door, giving it a quick knock before it was barely popped out. Peeking her head out like someone might bite her cracked something in me, and I wanted to pull her into my arms and never let her leave. She closed the door again, and I heard the chain being slid from its place on the door. It was serious if she was using the chain. She hadn’t used that in eighteen months. She opened the door all the way, waving us in. Her eyes are red-rimmed. She had been crying. Alex walked in and headed to the stools at her kitchen island. I stood in front of her, my voice low.
“Stormi, what’s wrong?” She didn’t look up at me, just sniffled. I put my hand under her chin, tipping her head up to look at me. Tears brimmed in her eyes. And I hated how beautiful I thought she was. Tragically beautiful.
“What happened, beautiful girl?” My voice came out slightly strangled and pleading. I hated seeing her like this. I hated seeing the pain in her eyes.
“I got an email. My sister and mother know I’m the one who wrote the book,” Tears were streaming down her face. “They said they’re going to sue for defamation.”
“Do you have proof that they cheated? That everything in the book true?” She paused for just a split second before rushing up into the loft. I heard her printer working as I walked over to where Alex was standing in the kitchen.
“Take it, she found out?” Alex said as he looked through the cupboards for a glass.
