Something feels right about the change of plot. The authentic and organic way it unravels to come to a close at the end of this novel.
Four books short of what I was supposed to write.
My contract is for this book only, though. Does that mean they will only consider the next four if this one does well? How long am I going to be locked into writing something my heart just isn’t in? Not one hundred percent, anyway.
“Okay, I’m the author. It’s your story, Eve. What do you really want to do? What plot fits Syra the best?”
I half expect Cal to swing around the doorjamb and call me out for talking to myself. I wish he would. Then I could put off deciding on my fate. Or Syra’s.
Moving to the window, I lean against the wall. The waves roll in, fading into the sandy beach like it’s their final destination. So sure. Not a doubt. No hesitation, they simply keep rolling in. What would it be like to have that amount of certainty in life?
Maybe the waves simply decided one day and held to it?
Maybe.
I slide back to the seat. Opening the notes application, I tap out the ending in bullet points, making sure to give Syra her well-deserved finale. Her fears replaced by her actions, her kingdom saved and rebuilt, her hero by her side because she wants him there and not because she needs him there. The crown is hers. The ending she deserves, after thousands of words of trial and torment.
Scanning the notes, I add small details in parentheses as I go. Fleshing it out best I can in the spur of the moment. Something hangs back in my mind. Another story I want to tell. One that has my whole heart.
One I can’t ignore any longer.
“Evie?” Callum calls from downstairs. I save my notes and shut the laptop.
“Coming!” I jog down the stairs to find Cal and Emmett in the kitchen. The embarrassment from earlier edges its way back in. I try to push it back down as I breathe, “Hi, Emmett.”
“Hey, Miss Evie.” His smile is genuine, but it slips a little as I reach the counter and lean on it, my eyes meeting Cal’s.
“Em is out doing an inspection. Some boats in the marina were tampered with. One went missing, and they found it floundering ten miles north.”
“Oh? What did you find?” I turn to Emmett.
“Nothing concrete. But I wanted to come out here, make sure you guys are okay.”
“Thanks, we’re okay,” I reply.
Emmett’s grin eats his face. “I can see that.”
I sink my gaze to the floor.
Something thuds.
“Ow! What the hell, McCreary?”
I look up to find Emmett rubbing his shoulder, and Cal’s darkened eyes holding him where he stands.
“Watch out, Evie, this one’s vicious.” Emmett points to Callum, who hasn’t shifted an inch.
“He takes a while to warm up. You should know that, Em,” I say way too fast and decide now is as good a time as any to scurry back up the stairs and hide out until the burning embarrassment I’m trying so hard to flatten fades.
“Em. I like it. See, she likes me, Cal.”
The groan that follows is nothing short of hilarious. Those two are adorable. Cal in his overbearing, protective, grumbly way. And Emmett, the sweet, funny one. How Iris hasn’t caught on to that, I’ll never know. Maybe she has? Maybe her brother is the only thing stopping her...
I make it to the desk chair before the smile on my face blooms. Head shoved into my hands, I stifle a happy squeal, kicking my feet. Happiness rolls through me, and I lift my head,leaning back to peer at the ceiling above me. A new type of butterfly takes flight, low in my belly.
The kind that has a more concrete meaning than those small yellow flutterbys from the greenhouse.
Flutterbys. Maybe new branding will bring a new association with them.
