Page 62 of A Storybook Wedding

“A sex scene?” I pause to think. “No. Definitely not like that. Why? Have you?”

“Not successfully. I tried to for this manuscript. But I felt weird about it.”

“Yeah, I hear that.”

“I think I could get by with a lot of internal monologue followed by a fade to black. But even that—the internal monologue, I mean—is certainly not something to sneeze at.”

“No. I agree. Sometimes that can actually be a lot more effective than a play-by-play of the mechanics.”

“Would you ever write a sex scene?”

“Sure, if the story called for it. Wouldn’t you?”

She considers the question. “Yeah. I just would never submit it to a workshop.”

“It was bold, to say the least.”

“I wonder if she’ll read it at the open mic night,” CJ laughs.

“God, I hope not,” I say. “Hey, are you going to read at the open mic thing?”

“No way.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I would be terrified.”

“I get that. It’s scary, for sure. But didn’t Dillon tell you to immerse yourself in the literary world or something like that?”

“He did, but there’s no way I’m ready for that amount of immersion yet.”

“You’ll get there. Just make sure you do it before you graduate. They make a big deal about graduates reading. It’s a requirement.”

“I know. But I still have a long way to go before I need to worry about that.”

“True. Plus, you can always practice with me.”

CJ looks at me and smiles. “That’s sweet. Thank you, Pen.”

“I mean, it’s the least I can do. You made me a sandwich.” She’s doing that thing again—that thing from yesterday where she gives me that look. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m just really glad we’re friends.”

But there’s something more behind those words. I can tell. And my body can feel it too. Dammit. I can’t keep getting hard around this girl. This is no way for a man to live. “Me too,” I respond. I cross my legs to try and tamp down the growing situation I’m dealing with in my lap. Think about the honey mustard. Think about cold cuts.

Cheese.

Lettuce.

Sensing my discomfort or maybe experiencing some of her own, CJ tells me she wants to give her mom a call before the afternoon seminars begin. She’s kind enough to do that downstairs in the main house living room, so I have a moment to breathe once she leaves.

I’m able to calm down physically, but my brain won’t shut the hell up.

I think I’m falling in love with my wife.

CHAPTER 11

Cecily

The rest of the day is pretty much a carbon copy of the one before it. Seminars, dinner, student readings. Nate and I opt to attend the readings this time just to show our faces, and afterward, when we head up to our room, it is mutually understood that I will wear a bra to bed and he will wear more than just his underwear.

As the end of the year draws nearer, so does my impending query experiment, and I find that I am growing increasingly nervous about it. I haven’t discussed it publicly, but somehow, the next morning, in Alice Devereaux’s workshop, it slips out of me.

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