I never fell back asleep, which is why I’m pouring my second cup of coffee and it’s just after eight in the morning.
I stand at the sink, staring out the window. It started raining around five o’clock this morning while I was in my bed with Jeremy, pretending to be asleep.
April’s car pulls up into the muddy drive as I’m staring out the window. I wonder if Jeremy will tell her what happened.
I haven’t seen him this morning. I assume he’s upstairs, where he usually remains until April arrives. I don’t want to be in the kitchen when April walks in, so I turn to head toward my office. I unexpectedly bump into Jeremy, but he cushions the blow by taking a step back and grabbing my shoulders. Thank goodness because it saves my precious coffee from spilling.
He looks tired, but I can’t judge him for that since it’s my fault. “Good morning,” he says it like it’s anything but.
“Morning.” I’m whispering. I don’t know why.
He moves so that he’s right next to me, leaning in as if to shield anyone from hearing what he’s about to say. “How would you feel if I put a lock on your bedroom door?”
His question confuses me. “You already did.”
“On the outside of the door,” he clarifies.
Oh.
“I can lock it after you go to sleep. Open it before you wake up. If you ever need out, you can text me, call me, and I’ll open it in two seconds. But I think you’ll sleep better, knowing you can’t leave the room.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that. I don’t know why it feels more drastic than a lock on the inside of the door, when they’d both be used for the same purpose: to keep me in my room. Even though the thought of it makes me uncomfortable, I’d be more uncomfortable knowing I could possibly get out of the room again. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
April enters the house, pausing when she passes the kitchen. Jeremy is still looking at me, ignoring her presence. “I feel like you need to take a break today.”
I look away from April, back to Jeremy. “I’d rather stay busy.”
He regards me for a silent moment before nodding in understanding.
“Good morning,” April says, kicking her muddy shoes off at the door.
“Morning, April.” Jeremy says it so casually, as if he has nothing to hide. He walks past her, toward the back door. She doesn’t move. She stares at me with her glasses at the tip of her nose.
“Morning, April.” I don’t look as innocent as Jeremy. I head back to Verity’s office and start my day, despite not being able to get over what happened last night.
I spend the morning online, catching up on emails. Corey has forwarded a few interviews, something that’s never been requested of me. A lot of the questions are similar, wanting to know why Verity hired me, what I plan to bring to the table, how my past experience has put me in the position to write for her. I copy and paste a lot of the answers.
After lunch, I focus on developing an outline for the seventh book. I’ve given up on finding one, so I work on building the novel from scratch. It’s hard because I’m exhausted from last night. I’m unsettled. But I try not to think about last night.
It’s afternoon when I smell tacos. It makes me smile, knowing he’s making them because I requested them. I’m sure he’ll save me a plate like he always does. I’m just not in a position where I feel comfortable eating dinner with them when April has Verity at the table.
I spend the next several minutes thinking about Verity, wondering why I’m so scared of her. I stare down at the drawer that contains her manuscript. One more chapter and I’ll stop. That’s it.
