The Bad Jokes #2: The Blonde

Chapter 17 (Gracie): Another Message

"I didn't think you'd ever relent, Alice," Racer whispered against my neck.

"I didn't think I would, either," I murmured, pressing my body even more tightly against his. "When you came back, I didn't think I could ever forget --" I broke off as the tears came yet again.

"My love, I would have waited for you forever, you know. I had to win your forgiveness because if I couldn't have you, my life would have become a mere existence. You are everything, the only thing that makes life worthwhile."

"Don't say that," I protested. "You would have eventually gotten over me. Moved on to someone new."

"It's hard to move on when you no longer have a heart. It's hard to get over someone whose very scent is embedded in my memory, whose soft voice plays endlessly in my head, whose taste is like the sweetest nectar on my tongue. How could I move on from you, Alice? I couldn't. It's you...or no one. A full life or an empty one."

"Racer," I gasped as the enormity of his love finally penetrated my heart and my mind.

"You, Alice. You and you alone."

"Well," a smile curved my lips. "Not just me and me alone."

"It's the truth."

"What about our baby?" I asked.

Racer pulled back and looked at me. "I knew you were even more beautiful than usual. Your light is even brighter. I should have known."

"Are you happy?" I asked. "I mean, you're going to have to share me now."

"I'm fucking delirious. Our love made this baby and all that matters is that the two of you are good."

"We are," I assured him, my hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. "We're both strong and healthy."

"Then that's all I need. My girl. Our baby. You've given me everything I didn't think I'd ever have."

"You can't say things like that, Racer," I cried. "I'm a big bag of hormones right now."

"How about...I love you. Can I say that?"

"That I think I could hear for the rest of my life."

"I'll make sure of it. Every damn day, morning, noon and night. You'll never doubt my love ever again, not for a minute."

For the rest of our lives, Racer kept his promise to me.

And our ever after was deliriously, amazingly, ecstatically happy.

After saving my file and sending it to my editor, I put my head down on the keyboard and cried.

Then I cried some more, the sobs shaking my entire body.

I cried while I walked out to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee, not even entirely certain what time it was or even what day it was. I'd been at my keyboard for a solid ten days, pretty sure I hadn't slept more than a few hours every night because this story had me by the neck and wouldn't let go. 

I cried while I drank my coffee, sniffed under my arm and took a much-needed shower. I cried while I dried off and got dressed in sweats and a sweatshirt. I cried while I brushed my teeth and brushed out my wet hair.

No matter what I did -- laundry, cleaning up, throwing out the trash, vacuuming -- I couldn't stop the tears. It was relief, exhaustion and happiness. The minute I drove away from Wyatt after he'd given me back my words, I went to my parents' condo, sent out a group text to my family and editor and told them I was going no contact so I could write, and I'd be in touch when I was done. They all knew not to bother me until I resurfaced. I had a second phone that I always left on when I was writing, but it was strictly for life-and-death emergencies. My regular phone I simply powered off.

Then I squared up to my computer screen, and instead of the blank page intimidating me as it had been for weeks, I laughed in its face.

There are your words, Gracie. I'm giving them back to you.

My fingers paused over the keys as Wyatt's words slowly filled that previously empty space inside me where my stories had always come from.

Go write your romances. Your words never came from me, never. You see romance in places nobody else notices. The romance is in you and the words have always been yours, always belonged to only you.

And the story of Alice and Racer, two lovers torn apart by their families, started pouring out of me into my Word document. That blank screen filled with words and more words. Five thousand, ten thousand. More and more and I couldn't stop even if I'd wanted to, until I finished the new book with a final count of one hundred ten thousand words.

It was my best work yet. I knew it instinctively even though it had a different feel. It was still a romance, but it was deeper, more real, more painful. More mature, I felt, but I'd wait to see what Rae said. Alice and Racer went through hell, but the depth of their love sustained them, carried them through the numerous trials and betrayals they endured until they were brought back together after Racer had gained Alice's forgiveness and trust.

The fucking end.

I snuggled up on the end of the couch, my second cup of coffee clutched in my hands. I was in no hurry to talk to anyone, content to just bask in the post-writing glow, to come back to reality slowly now that I'd finally stopped crying.

After a couple of hours of letting my thoughts wander, I took a deep breath and powered on my regular phone. My emergency phone had fortunately been quiet. My family was good about not overloading me with messages while I was no contact. I usually had three or four from each of them, telling me they were thinking of me, hoping the writing was going well. My mother and grandmother would ask if I was remembering to eat and hoped I was feeding Mouse. As if the little pig would ever let me forget that food bowl!

But in my hurry to start writing, I'd forgotten that Wyatt was still on the rarely-used group text. Normally, I wrote every day and didn't need to to go silent, but once I had when I was dating Wyatt, so I'd added him to the group text. The rules were simple; no one was allowed to reply to the group text -- they could only respond on their own individual thread. I would never admit it, but I went to Wyatt's thread first.

I had ten messages from the man, one for each day.

I think you forgot I was on this group text. Good luck, Gracie. I hope the words come easily.

Thinking of you.

Your words are magic, and I hope they're coming together in a way that makes you happy.

True story -- another PPO and I were pulled from regular duty today to guard a motherfucking llama for twenty-four hours. I never thought I'd be on top-secret llama detail, but there you have it.

I've been wondering how your writing's going. I'm hoping it's going exactly how you want.

Blue and his band are amazing. I think you'd love to see him live.

I sent you some T-shirts and CDs Blue signed for your mom and aunts.

I feel like an expectant father pacing in the hospital room, waiting to hear if your words came back. I'm betting they did.

Day nine. I'm thinking that's got to be a positive sign.

I just had a feeling that you've written your best book yet.

Wyatt must have seen that I read his messages, because a new one popped up.

Welcome back, Gracie. I hope everything went well.

I wanted to respond, to tell him how well my writing had gone. I also, admittedly, wanted to ask about the freaking top-secret llama detail. My fingers were poised to send him a message, but I resisted and didn't follow through.

Instead, another message popped up.

Now that you've resurfaced, I have something for you tomorrow that I've been waiting to send you.

What did that mean?

Fortunately, I didn't have long to wait.