Page 107 of Confessions of a Smutty Romance Author

And Tess and Derek.

A fresh wave of tears came at the realization that I’d miss their wedding.

She was going to be such a beautiful bride.

But that was the life I was made for. The life I’d inherited from my parents and generational cycles of trauma and abuse. People didn’t stay in my world. They left, which was exactly what I was doing.

The sun was beginning to rise out the window, and I said, “Take me to the beach?”

“Sure,” he said. He pulled over to adjust his map and then started again. Within minutes, we were pulling up to the parking lot at the beach near Brentwood Marina. Even if Jonas and I had broken up on the rooftop, this is really where it all started falling apart. This is where I knew we wanted different things, and I couldn’t be the girl he wanted. The woman he deserved.

I got out of the car, giving the driver what cash was left in my clutch for a tip, and walked toward the water.

Something about the ocean felt like home. It was always there. The waves never stopped, never went away.

I hit the sand and slipped out of my heels, holding the straps in the crook of my fingers. Then I walked over the cool sand that hadn’t yet been warmed by the sun, sitting as close to the water as I could without getting my dress wet.

The orange rays coming from the sunrise hit my dress, lighting me up despite the darkness of my world.

I stared at the horizon, thinking about all I had lost. The things I had been crazy to think I could count on, when really there was only one: myself, and I was right here for me.

I watched the sunrise, trying desperately to convince myself that I was enough. Because once upon a time, I had been, until Jonas turned my world upside down and showed me how incredible it could be to be half of a pair with him instead of a whole on my own.

I loved him with all my heart, but that didn’t mean happily ever after was waiting for us. And if it hurt this much to love him for six months, how much would it hurt after a year? A decade?

Maybe I didn’t believe in happily ever after. But I sure as hell believed in heartbreak.

I could feel it, and it took all I had to hold myself together and hope a better future was waiting for me in Atlanta than the one I was leaving behind.

With the weak morning sun rising behind the horizon and people beginning to jog along the beach, I realized how crazy I must look in my evening gown and makeup streaming down my face. I reached into my gold clutch and retrieved my phone, turning it on. It had been off since before the movie, and now it was full of notifications from Jonas and Birdie and Henrietta and even Cohen.

I ignored them and called a ride share to drive me the couple miles home. But when the driver stopped along the curb at my house, I saw Jonas’s car in the driveway.

49

Jonas

After trying and failing to find Mara at the club, I enlisted the help of Cohen, Birdie, and Henrietta, because I didn't know what else to do. I told them about our conversation and admitted that I fucked up, but even with their help, we couldn’t find Mara.

So, we took the limo back to Birdie and Cohen’s, and I stayed at their place, hoping that Mara would come by to see Birdie and then I could sort it all out. When it was clear she wasn't doing that, I just went to her house.

All the lights were off, and my mind immediately went to the worst thought. She had found someone else. I had driven her into someone else’s arms.

But I stayed, I waited, determined to apologize. To undo the mess I had made. Around seven, I saw a car pulling up, and I prayed to God that it wouldn't be another guy riding with her. Another guy taking her home to take away the pain I’d given her.

Leaning against the outside of my car, I watched it pull to a stop. There was a guy in the driver's seat, but thank fuck there was also a sticker saying he drove for a rideshare company. I let out a deep breath, but the relief only lasted so long.

She got out of the car, still wearing her dress from the night before. It shimmered in the morning light, but the curls in her hair had fallen, and the makeup that had looked so perfect earlier formed dark streaks down her face. She looked miserable, and I nearly doubled over with pain, realizing that I had caused it. I messed up worse than I ever had, and I wanted to tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to do everything over again and tell her exactly how excited I was for her. I just hoped it wasn't too late.

She stopped a few feet away from me, letting her skirt fall from her fingers and trail over the cement. “What are you doing here?” she asked, not quite meeting my eyes.

I shook my head remorsefully. “I came to say how sorry I am. What I did earlier was not okay. And I need you to know that.” The words kept coming fast because I felt like Mara could run away at any moment, and I wanted—needed—to get it all out. “I know that writing and stories are a huge part of who you are and a huge part of how you made it through everything you've been through, and the fact that I was anything but supportive was a huge slap in the face to you. Especially after you've been so supportive with me working all these extra hours at the firm.” I swallowed hard. “I want a do-over, Mara. I want you to come to me and tell me that Bradley Mason wants you to write on a show. And I want to pick you up and spin you in a circle and tell you how proud I am to be your man and how much you're going to kill it in the writers’ room. And it doesn't matter that you've never written for a TV show before, because I know you're going to step in there and you're going to be amazing, because you understand people and you see things in a way that no one else does. And I think that's what TV needs. I think that's what made your movie so amazing. And I wish I could go back and punch myself in the face for thinking anything else and for being selfish, because the truth was I was going to miss you and I didn't want to miss you.”

Her eyes were still on the ground, and I somehow found it in me to stop talking, although I could have stayed there all day and all night to convince her how sorry I really was.

She slowly looked up at me, her eyes red from crying. Her lips trembled, and my heart broke. I felt the words before she ever said them out loud.

“It's too late,” she said.

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