Page 31 of Love Notes

Okay, so clearly I had slightly more energy than he did.

I rolled him off me, depositing him onto the mattress, then got out of bed long enough to grab my shirt to clean us both up.Then I snuggled down beside him again and pulled the sheet over us.Ryan tucked his face into the crook of my neck as he dozed, and I smiled and watched the sunlight dancing on the water of the lake.

WE HAD BREAKFASTcloser to lunchtime, and then Ryan headed over to his workshop and I sat on the couch and managed a few paragraphs.Then I wrote Ryan another note and made him a coffee to give myself an excuse to visit him and slip it into the pocket of his apron when he wasn’t looking.Operation Distract Ryan with a Kiss was a total success.Then I returned to the cabin, played with the cat for a few minutes, and got back to writing.

I was falling deeper into the fantasy that had already well and truly snagged me: that this was my life.My cabin, my cat, and, most importantly, my boyfriend.We hadn’t had that discussion.We’d tiptoed around it, probably because we were both aware that I had a house and a life—however antisocial it was—in Akron.It was nothing that couldn’t be shifted to New Hampshire, given that I worked from home on a laptop, but it was way too soon for that.Wasn’t it?I didn’t have any perspective anymore.Ryan had got up in the middle of the night to carve me a water lily, for fuck’s sake.I had no natural defense against that.Nobody did.

The cat curled up beside me on the couch as I worked.A few hours later, I heard the tread of Ryan’s boots on the porch, and the front door opened.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”I wouldn’t have been able to stop the smile spreading across my face if someone was holding a gun to my head.

“I’m going to go into town,” he said.“You want to come?”

“Ugh, I do, but I’m kind of in the middle of a flow at the moment,” I said.“If I break it, I might not get it back.”

“I’ll bring you something,” he said.“I’m going to Lucy’s to get a blue cheese burger.They do the best blue cheese burgers you’ve ever had.”

“Really?Blue cheese?”I wrinkled my nose at the thought, glad I hadn’t spotted them on the menu the time we’d been there.

“Trust me,” he said, and my heart did a weird flip-flop in my chest as I realized I did trust him, and about more than burgers.“I have to go see Haider first, then I’m gonna stop in at Rebecca’s cottage too and check on the repairs, so I’ll probably be a while.”

“Okay,” I said.“I’ll see you when you get back.”

Even without the waterlily, I was pretty sure I had no defenses against Ryan Devlin.

I wrote while the words flowed, and when they didn’t, I went outside and walked to the edge of the lake.I got my toes wet while the cat gave me a disapproving look, then went inside and wrote some more.The book was taking shape now; I had the plot figured out, and my amateur detective and the grumpy deputy were already reluctantly working together again.There was a cast of colorful supporting characters and a couple of twists to throw the readers off the scent of the killer.I couldn’t wait to get to the part where the deputy realized the bookstore owner was in danger and tried to get to him, only to be slowed down by a truck blocking the covered bridge.That wasn’t just the moment when he’d save the bookstore owner’s life—it was the moment he’d realize exactly how much the bookstore owner meant to him and how he couldn’t bear to lose him.To be honest, I was probably looking forward to that part more than unmasking the killer, and I hoped most of my readers were as well.

It struck me, halfway through the scene where the deputy was phoning his colleague and best friend to let her know he was having complicated feelings for the bookstore owner, that I was also having complicated feelings.The difference was, I didn’t have anyone to call about them.I had friends, but none that felt close enough to call just to talk through my emotions.These were friends I’d been ride-or-die with in our twenties, and we were still in contact regularly, but we’d grown apart, I supposed, or at least our lives had taken us in different directions.Jobs or partners in other cities that they’d followed, time zones, family obligations, and, in my case, the fact that if you gave me the choice I’d pick “shut-in” every time.Small-town living like here by the lakeside seemed ideal; all Ryan’s friends were close enough that they caught up at least once a week.

I thought about phoning my dad, but he didn’t want to know the details of my emotional state, or my love life, any more than I wanted to know the details of his.He’d just ask if I was doing okay, I’d ask the same of him, and we’d move onto more important topics, like the neighbor’s dog that crapped on his lawn every morning and how that asshole (the neighbor, not the dog) was doing it intentionally.Dad had a lot of opinions on his neighbor and would share them for hours if you gave him the opportunity.I tried not to, but Dad and I both loved stringing words together—but at least I tried to keep most of mine on the page.My verbal diarrhea when I met hot woodworkers notwithstanding, of course.

When I heard the rumbling sound of a truck, I stood up and stretched.The cat stood up too and peered out the window.

“Who’s that?”I asked her, closing my laptop.“Is Daddy home?”Can a brain have a record scratch?Because that was exactly what I heard, as loud as thunder.“Don’t ever fucking tell him I said that, or I’ll buy you the cheap cat food from now on.I’m not married to Ryan, and you’re not our child.”

Our not-child was very interested in the burgers which were, as Ryan had promised, incredible.We ate at the kitchen table and took turns nudging the insistent cat back onto the floor.

“I found your note,” Ryan said, his cheeks pinkening.“Thank you too.For this morning, and for everything else.”He studied his burger intently.“It’s been really good.You being here.”

I bet a professional interrogator in a Cold War movie armed with a bright lamp and some truth serum wouldn’t be able to get many more words out of Ryan.

“I’m glad I came,” I said.“I shouldn’t say I’m glad Rebecca’s cottage flooded, but I am.Is it okay now?”

“It’s all dried out,” he said, relaxing now that I’d shifted the conversation onto more emotionally safe ground.“The drywall’s been replaced, and the new carpet arrives next week, so none of her future bookings are affected.I’ll probably have to go over when the carpet’s here and help Chris lay it.He’s Rebecca’s boyfriend.They bought the place together.”

“I wouldn’t even know how.”

His mouth quirked.“It’s easy.There are plenty of videos online.”

“I can’t imagine watching someone else do it, and then saying, ‘Looks easy.I’ll give it a try.’”

“Best way to learn.”Ryan tilted his head.“How’d you know how to write books?”

“By reading them,” I said.“It’s kind of the same thing, I guess.And sure, I took some classes in college.But I figured out more by diving in headfirst and trying it, by seeing what worked and what didn’t, than I did in those classes.”

“My favorite high school teacher always said the best way to learn was by doing.”

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