Page 444 of One More Kiss

I walk into the cottage and set my coffee down next to my closed laptop. I quickly change into something more comfortable and pull all my long hair up into a messy bun. Once I’m back in my writing uniform, I settle into the chair and prepare to kick my manuscript’s ass.

After opening my laptop, I crack my fingers and read the last chapter I had written. Yesterday I struggled hard, and today I’m laughing at the cursor that’s mocked me for the past few months.

As soon as my fingers hit the keys, the words fly out in sentences, paragraphs, then pages. Hours pass, and I can’t seem to pull away from writing, not right now, when I’m pouring my heart and soul into the pages, but I know I need to take a break.

Considering I’ve been here for four days already, I know I need to call Nora and check on everything back home. It’s been a while since I’ve left the house for longer than a weekend.

I stand up and stretch, allowing every vertebrae in my back to pop. That’s when I realize how sore I actually am, and the only person to blame is Ethan. Pacing, trying to stretch my legs, I grab my phone and hit Nora’s number.

The line rings over and over, and before I hang up, she picks up the phone.

“Hey, Nora,” I say with a smile on my face, trying to be as friendly as possible because sometimes she can be a grump. But that’s why I love her.

She groans then chuckles. “I was napping, Vada.”

“At ten in the morning?” I know she’s giving me shit, like usual.

“When you’re retired, it’s always nap time,” she informs me. “So what can I help you with? And before you can even ask, the cat is still alive. I’ve been feeding him every day and following the psychotic instructions you left for me.”

“Have you been giving him his treats? The beef ones in the plastic container by the coffee maker,” I remind her for probably the fourth time. Oliver is particular with his treats and doesn’t really care for the seafood ones. I’m pretty sure he can sniff out artificial fish flavor from a mile away.

“Yes, but he snubs me each time I walk in and realizes it isn’t you. I’m pretty sure he hates me.” I can hear Nora opening and closing cabinets. If I close my eyes, I can imagine her pulling one of her favorite mugs with some sarcastic saying on it from the cabinet and pouring a cup of coffee. When I hear her sip loudly, I know that’s exactly what she was doing.

“He can just sense when an angry old lady walks into the room,” I reply, trying to get a laugh from her.

“Oh, I’m sure he can.” She groans. “What’s up with you? You sound…different.” She waits for me to speak, and I wonder if she can tell something’s up. She’s over thirty years older than me and has this crazy mother's intuition when it comes to my life. Though she’s grumpy and sarcastic most of the time, I love her like a crazy aunt. When I’m lonely or need plot help, she listens and gives me advice when I need it. Now that I think about it, Nora may be my only friend at home. I really need to get out more.

“Uh…” I stare out the window toward the house and images of the night flash through my memory like photographs. “Actually,” I begin, clearing my throat, “I had sex. And not just boring, old married couple missionary sex either. Really good sex.”

“What? I didn’t hear you. Old age, remember?” She snickers.

I roll my eyes and speak louder. “I had sex last night, and it was amazing.”

“If I could figure out how to use this damn iPhone, I’d tell you to text me a picture of Mr. Wonderful.”

I laugh. “He’s actually the type I stay away from, which is shocking.”

She knows exactly what type I’m talking about—that I’ll dump-you-in-a-day type.

“Ahh,” is all she offers. Nora knows intricate details about my past relationships, why they didn’t work out, and how I’ve been unable to have a long-term relationship in years.

“It’s a no-strings attached kind of thing,” I explain, and can just imagine her shaking her head in disdain, giving me that salty look she’s known for before she breaks into a knowing smile.

“I’m sure it would have to be considering you’re due home in three days, but you’re young and beautiful. It’s about time you had a little fun. Just make sure to leave your heart at the door or on the floor, well, unless you were on the floor.” She pauses as I release a chuckle. “Anyway, you know what I mean. Just don’t get hurt, kid. You know I kinda like you like the daughter I never had.”

“Kinda? Well thanks, Nora. It’s just some adult fun. I mean, what could really happen in three days?”

She laughs. “Ask Cinderella. And just to be clear, you’re staying on deadline, right? If your agent found out you weren’t writing and was…”

“Hardy har har,” I say. “Yes, I’m on track. But speaking of, I need to get back to work. Thanks for taking care of Oliver. Kiss him for me.”

She makes a noise. “Yuck. And get cat hair all over me? No, thank you. Keep me updated, and call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Nora. I will.” We hang up, and I immediately get back to work. I write until I’ve finished five more chapters—a new personal record that I couldn’t be prouder of. Over eight thousand words have been added to my manuscript, and if I have a few more days like this, I’ll finally be on schedule. But I’m trying not to jinx myself or creativity. I suck in a deep breath and look out the window and realize it’s almost four in the afternoon. Though I want to keep writing, I force myself to take a break because my stomach won’t stop growling, and I need to eat. Instead of scheduling an Uber and going out, I decide to shower, then sneak over to Ethan’s and raid his fridge. Surprisingly enough, I don’t feel a bit guilty about it.

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