Page 66 of When Stars Collide
“That’s it?”
“That has to be it.”
“Well okay, then.” She sighed. By then she’d heeded my suggestion and was laying on her side with her hand propping her head up. “So, I met my biological father today.”
“I know, I was there.”
“He’s pretty great, right?”
“Yes, I seen he was a great guy, indeed.”
“Stop it.” Elle smackedme, laughing despite not wanting to backstab her father.
“At least now we know where you get your writing talent from. Though I never would have thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell it would have been from Betsy.”
“About that … that’s kind of why I’m here. What Mark told me about my mother, completely giving up on her dreams and, in turn, giving up on herself, really hit home. I think I’m going to write that poetry book. I’ve been making excuses for too long. I need to write it.”
“Hell yeah, you do.”
“I’m going to write that book and you’re going to illustrate it for me.”
“Come again?”
“I need an illustrator and you’re great at drawing things. Seems like it’s a perfect fit.”
“I don’t know, Elle. I have more responsibilities now at work.”
She glanced at my cell phone. “I’ve noticed.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Elle sat up, shaking her arm, which had apparently begun to fall asleep. “Listen, you’ve spent how long telling me how I needed to write this book? How long telling me that my excuses against doing it were complete bullshit? Well, now it’s my turn, and I’m calling bullshit on your excuses.”
“I guess it’s about time something I said came back to bite me on the ass. Never would I have thought my best friend would be doing the biting, however.” Elle stared at me with her annoyingly large eyes, like a puppy waiting for its owner to throw it a scrap of meat. “Ugh … Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Holy crap, yes! We’re writing a book!” She held out her arms as she swiftly made her way to my side of the bed.
“Oh, no. I’ve reached my limit today, remember?”
“It’s a new day.”
“Shit.”
Elle hugged me, squeezing me tightly. “That’s right, just let it happen,” she cooed, stroking my hair.
“This just got creepy.”
Letting me go, she stood up. “I’ll get started as soon as I get back home, and email pages to you as I complete them.”
“Sounds like a plan, Emily Dickinson. She’s a poet, right?”
She nodded, yawning. “I should probably get back to the room before Luke wakes up and wonders where I am.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Yeah, it’s still too soon for the amnesia jokes.”
“Always have to ruin my fun, don’t you?”
