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And, after Ellie died, we couldn’t even eat the cheeseburgers because we were both crying so hard.
I smile again as I type back: He just left. Her response is immediate. Reckless. I don’t bother responding, but as I get ready for school, I feel a little lighter.
“Did you know,” I continue, “that as books decompose, the paper releases a chemical compound similar to vanilla, and that’s why old books smell so good?”
“Did you know,” Daniel starts playfully, “that the scent of vanilla is also an aphrodisiac?”
She is warm and welcoming, and I feel completely enveloped in her. She smells vaguely of sugar and vanilla. Of course she does, I think.
May you plant your own garden full of vibrancy and softness.
“They seem like complete opposites,” I observe. “They are, in a lot of ways, but I think that’s why they love each other so much. Being with someone too closely related to the writing world is… difficult.”
Said something about ‘not everything needs a party’ or some nonsense.”
We find the room and he opens the door, but then he pauses in the doorway and I almost run into him. He closes the door and whirls around, his eyes wide. “What?” I ask. “Okay, before you go in there, I need you to know that I swear on everything that is holy and my own immortal soul that I called this morning to confirm that this room had two beds.”
“There’s only one bed. But when I asked, they said it’s the last room they have and there are two beds.”
I can’t help but laugh a little as I change into pajamas that now look ridiculous. I’ve brought my standard short shorts, tank top, and oversized hoodie, which I thought would be fine, but now that I’m trapped inside a real-life romance trope, they are definitely too revealing.
I didn’t sleep for one minute that night. I was too completely mesmerized by your shape and your softness and…”
“And then on the way here, I watched the way your face changed when you smelled Patricia’s book. You looked so serene and peaceful, like you knew exactly where you belonged and it was right there, next to me, in my car, talking about vanilla and home and books like they’re all the same and I wanted to be part of that list.
Men written by women >
I’ve never seen anyone experience literature like you, Mac, and it’s irresistible.
“You’re exquisite,” he breathes, barely audible. “I couldn’t write you if I tried.”
Alison’s giggle is comically void of any joy. I would probably laugh at it myself, but my heart has practically stopped in my chest. “Editor and fiancée,“
Daniel slides his eyes reluctantly to her, steely and devoid of all warmth. “Ex-fiancée,“ he clarifies, finally wrenching his hand from hers.
O thank goodness
“I wasn’t ever going to pretend that three weeks would fix this one.”
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. I should be jumping at the chance to read an unpublished draft of a novel I helped one of my favorite authors create even despite where we left things, but I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet.
The whole time I’m boiling the water, I feel like my bag is staring at me, which is ridiculous.
Finally, I growl as if the draft can hear my frustration, and I lean over to pull it out. I
M. M. who taught me I belong.
I don’t sleep on Friday night. I read straight through until the gray light of dawn filters through my living room window.
It is, in short, a love letter to teaching and learning. I think it might be a love letter to me.
“If you look at his entire body of work, you’ll find a thread of despair that runs through it. Maybe despair isn’t the right word, but he has a way of making even an inevitability feel forlorn.
What must happen, happens, and yet, we are left to feel as if there are no good choices, and no possible outcome that will be satisfying for everyone involved. This new novel, however, leaves us with a sense of yearning for the future.”
“When someone comes into our lives who sees into our souls in a way Mr. Evans’ manuscript would suggest he saw into yours, we hang on and don’t let go.”
