Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Then my world exploded, and I clutched her harder. Thrust deeper. Heard her cry out one more time before going limp and quiet in my arms. I turned off the TV, no longer wanting the images.
I helped her climb off, her legs shaky. I pulled her back into my embrace and lay down, taking her with me.
“No more porn watching without me,” I said. “But that was the hottest thing I have ever seen, baby.”
She mumbled something unintelligible. I kissed her head. “Are you inspired now?”
She nodded, already drifting.
“Sleep, Shortcake. You can write it out later. If you need more inspiration, or a reminder, I’m right here.” I paused. “It’s a hard job,” I stated. “But someone has to do it.”
She tried to slap my chest and snort. She managed neither, her hand sort of waving in the air and her snort of derision more like a snore.
I kissed her head, loving her. Every part of her.
FOURTEEN MONTHS LATER
I stepped into the elevator, Tom following me.
“Good day,” he muttered. “Lots of positive reviews and comments. Great job with the interviews.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Thanks for being here.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Of course.”
My relationship with Tom was nothing like the constant battle I had endured with MJ. He was calm, decisive, positive. He offered advice, smoothed troubled waters, and supported me in all my decisions. He’d flown to LA with me for some interviews and press leading up to the release of the movie. There was lots of interest in it, and the early reviews were great. Mila was here as well, but she preferred to stay in the background. Her face and her name were out there, but she didn’t do much to call attention to herself. Andi made sure she was still protected, and her public persona was rarely seen. Simply the thought of attending the screening of the movie made her anxious enough. I didn’t like my wife anxious.
We exited the elevator, and I headed to our suite, after Tom reminded me of our breakfast meeting. I waved at him, already dropping the business mode and looking forward to seeing my wife and taking her out to dinner.
I found her on the lounger, glaring at her laptop. On the table beside her was a glass of iced tea and a forgotten sandwich. She looked up as I strolled out onto the balcony. I bent and kissed her, chuckling. “Problem, Shortcake?”
“Damn character,” she muttered.
I laughed and pulled a chair over, sitting beside her. I picked up the sandwich, taking a bite. Then I pressed it to her pouting lips. “Eat, baby.”
She let me feed it to her, although I ate more of it than she did. I would make sure she ate well tonight. I had gotten used to her odd habits when deep in writing mode.
“What am I doing that is not pleasing you?” I asked.
“It’s my character, Nick. Not you.”
Laughing, I chucked her chin. “We both know you think about me whenever you write a lead male character, Mila. I’m your muse.” I sat back, flashing her a smile. “That’s why they’re all drop-dead gorgeous, sexy, and fabulous in bed.”
She sniffed and rolled her eyes. “And full of themselves.”
I laughed. “And they love their woman with every part of their being.”
She smiled, resting her head back against the lounger. “I can’t figure out his reaction in this scene.”
She looked tired, and I knew she needed to stop. I also knew she wouldn’t stop until she figured this out. I stood. “Let me help. Scoot forward.”
I slipped in behind her and had her scroll back a couple of pages. I read the scene slowly, frowning. “So basically, she’s pregnant and not sure how he is going to react? Your leads are always thrilled. Unless I’m missing something?”
Her voice was low. “This one is nervous about his wife getting pregnant. He worries over her too much. He worries over the future.”
“Still, I think he’d welcome the news. It’s a baby. Babies are miracles.”
“Yes.”
“Write it.”
She tapped away, and I read the last words. You’re going to be a father. Please be happy.
Then she stopped.
“Finish it,” I encouraged.
“I’m waiting for his reaction,” she replied.
Then it hit me. I was the character. This scene was us. My breath caught in my throat. Mila knew I wanted kids, but I was worried. Bipolar disorder was thought to be hereditary. My mother had suffered from what had been labeled depression and was often on medication. When I spoke to my doctor and therapist, they both told me it was believed the disorder came from the maternal side, but there was no solid proof yet. So perhaps a child of mine would not suffer the way I did. Still, I was hesitant, although we both wanted children.
Yet, looking at the words on the screen, all I felt was…joy. The worry and fear didn’t seem as important. If they had the same disorder, they would have us. Our family. A huge support system I once only dreamed of.