Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“Oh.”
“You still have this.”
It’s not a question as his gaze falls to the blanket he holds in his hand.
“I would have fetched my own pillow.”
“I didn’t mind.” He swallows hard. “I know how picky you are about the pillows. I wasn’t expecting to find this under it.”
Feeling a little foolish and a lot exposed, I cross to him and take my pillow from him, tossing it onto the bed.
“I couldn’t get rid of it.”
As soon as we found out I was pregnant, we both knew the baby would be a girl. The first thing Xander did was run out and buy the softest, pinkest blanket he could find, bringing it home for the baby.
“I donated everything else,” I continue when he doesn’t reply. “But I just couldn’t part with this. It reminded me of you and her, and I just needed that comfort.”
“So, you sleep with it?”
“Yes.” I raise my chin in defiance. “And I refuse to be embarrassed about that. Or apologize for it.”
“I think it’s pretty sweet,” he murmurs. “Where do you want me to put it?”
I take it from him, fold it, and set it under my pillow as I always do.
“I keep it there.”
“Okay. Now, did you say that it just tried to fuck with you?”
“Yeah. But don’t worry. I pissed it off and sent it packing.”
“That’s my girl.”
The words are flowing for the first time since Xander moved into my little waterfront cottage.
On top of having a killer to stop and a curse to lift, I’m on deadline.
I couldn’t believe it when I sold my idea of a novel about folklore and legends surrounding the Salem area last year, and I really couldn’t believe what the publisher was willing to pay for it.
I guess all that manifestation really paid off.
But now I have to write the book. They’ve already given me one extension, and I refuse to ask for another.
I’ve been hard at it since before the sun came up this morning. Xander popped his head in twice, once to bring me fresh coffee and then again to kiss me goodbye before leaving to meet up with Giles at our friend’s gem and crystal shop downtown.
I love writing in the quiet. I have the window cracked so I can hear the waves, which also fills me with creativity and soothes me at the same time.
When I take a break for lunch, I plan to take a walk along the shoreline. I’ve avoided it lately because I just feel so damn nauseous when I’m near the water, but I really need to give it a try. I’m a sea witch. What good am I if I can’t walk along the damn shore?
So, with a long walk as my motivation to finish the chapter I’m currently working on, I put my head down and let my fingers fly over the keyboard. It’s rare that the story flows so freely, so I lean in to it and take full advantage.
More than an hour later, I sit back and roll my shoulders to work out the kinks as I read what I just wrote.
“Not bad,” I murmur, then stand and reach high above my head. “If I keep this pace, I’ll make the deadline with a few days to spare. That would be ideal and keep me in my editor’s good graces.”
Which is good because I’d really like to write another book when this one is finished.
It’s been rainy all day today, so I pull on my yellow galoshes. I don’t worry about a raincoat because the water doesn’t really bother me. I just hate getting my feet wet unless it’s on my own terms.
Armed with my basket for gathering treasures, and my phone tucked safely into my back pocket, I set off down the shoreline.
Taking a deep breath, I tip my head back and soak in the wet air and the scent of the ocean. Feeling confident with no nausea in sight, I walk farther away from home.
“Maybe it was just some kind of weird vertigo,” I mutter to myself. “An inner ear infection or something silly like that.”
I catch sight of an old, green glass bottle that has washed up on shore and snatch it up, setting it in my basket. As I glance at the sky, I see Xander flying overhead, croaking down at me. I offer him a smile and a wave.
I see that he’s circling back toward the cottage, so I turn back and begin walking that way.
Before I’ve stepped five paces, I start to hear the music.
It’s so loud and clear and so freaking beautiful. I don’t know who is making music down at the pier, but they’re very talented.
I’ll have to ask around and find out who it is.
I stop walking and face the water, forgetting all about my basket and Xander, just watching the waves roll in as I listen to the music.