Page 2 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
A heavy silence followed. Bronte’s chest tightened, and she blinked against the cold wind that was causing her eyes to well up. No, she wasn’t going down could-have-beens. She squared her shoulders. All of that had happened ten months ago—practically a year. Brad was behind her now. She didn’t care about him. She had a manuscript to write and a plan to execute.
“Okay, okay. No numbers, but I need you to hurry up and finish that book so the publishers can do their thing and we can go on tour again. You know you need your number one agent to shield you from all your raving fans.”
Bronte’s chest tightened. “Oh yay. Tour,” she deadpanned. Why had she chosen a career that required her to fly to different cities to meet hundreds of strangers?Calm down. A tour won’t happen for at least another year.“If they mauled me, they would never find out what happens to Theodosia, Marisol, and Vivian at the end.”
“Are you going to finally give them their happy ending?”
Bronte stood and stepped back over to the railing, not caring if Lexi couldn’t hear her over the wind. She was tired of this discussion. Digging her fingers into the metal railing she replied, “You know I don’t write happy books.”
“I think you should. Wrap the entire series up in one big happy bow.”
“And how is that going to be realistic?” Bronte pressed.
“Sometimes it’s okay to give someone a happy ending,” Lexi said gently.
“Happy endings don’t exist.” At least, not in Bronte’s experience.
“Bronte—”
“Stop, it’s fine. I know there are authors out there that write happy books. That’s just not me. Write what you know, and what I know is not happy endings.”
“All right, I get it.” Lexi paused. “So, speaking of Brad?—”
“We weren’t speaking of Brad,” Bronte interjected.
Lexi ignored her and continued. “You’ve been staying off social media, right?”
“Yes…”
Lexi huffed out a breath. “Good. Good. That’s good.”
“What does my staying off socials have to do with Brad?” Bronte pulled in a deep breath. In the warmer months, she’d be able to smell the verdant greenery lining the lake and enjoy the fresh breeze, but not now while her nose was frozen.
“Well…”
“Lex, just spit it out already,” Bronte snapped, a little more sharply than she wanted. She chewed her bottom lip to keep from snapping again.
“Brad is engaged.”
All the air whooshed from Bronte’s lungs. “Good for him.” She somehow managed to get the sentiment out. Sucking in the cold air and willing it to freeze her heart, she reminded herself she’d traveled all the way to Jonathon Island to get away from any thoughts of Brad. Dreams of holing herself up in the cutest little cottage that she had ever seen, head down, words flowing, started melting from her mind.
She wouldnotgive Brad anymore brain space. She imagined herself taking a broom and sweeping Brad out of every crevice in her mind. He wasn’t welcome there any longer. He’d made it very clear in February that he’d decided he wanted a family. He wanted the noisy babies, and as Bronte couldn’t change her mind on the matter, he didn’t want to be in her life. And now he was engaged. It didn’t get any clearer than that.
“Bronte? Did I lose you? Oh gosh, I shouldn’t have mentioned Brad. What was I thinking?”
“I’m here, but hey, the ferry is almost to the island.” They were only halfway there. “I’m going to have to let you go.”
“Sure. You have a wonderful time, Bronte. Seriously call me once you get settled?—”
Bronte shook her head even though Lexi couldn’t see her. “I’ve got to write.”
“Fine, send me a text. Send a carrier pigeon.”
Shifting the phone to her other ear, Bronte asked, “Do those even exist anymore?”
“Just let me know you got in and settled okay.”
“Yes, mother,” Bronte replied sarcastically.
