The Seduction of a Science Fiction Writer

Fiction

Ben set his coffee mug down on the edge of his desk and lowered his head onto his laptop’s keyboard. As he felt his fingers being licked he turned his head, striking his manuscript with a long incoherent line. He pulled his hand away from his dog’s tongue and scratched the canine’s head.

“How do I fix it, Mojo?” he asked. He looked for the answer in Mojo’s eyes, but it was clear the dog was visiting in hopes for a treat. “Okay, okay. A treat for you and a quick refill for me.” He picked up his mug and swigged the last sip of his coffee. “If this story does well I’ll get us a better place to live. How’s that sound? Of course, the editor has to like my changes first.”

Ben walked from one end of his studio apartment to the other, refilled his mug, grabbed a dog treat, and was back to his seat within the minute.

“We’ll have a yard where you can play and I can sit and write.” He brushed his hand over the short bristles of hair on the back of his neck. “As I’m typing away at a new story you can bring your ball to me over and over, and I’ll return to my keyboard with slobber covered finger tips.” He looked down at his keyboard, “well, that might be a bit much, but you get the idea.”

He deleted the line of gibberish at the tail end of his manuscript. He cracked his neck side to side, took a sip of his coffee, stretched out of his chair a bit to scratch Mojo’s head, took another sip of coffee, then returned to his story.

One Year Later…

Ben arrived to the bookstore an hour early where he was greeted by the owner and a number of employees. It was the third stop on a tour of a dozen bookstores across the country and he was already missing Mojo and his small apartment. His phone call from the car ride over still lingered in his head, where his sister claimed Mojo was “having the time of his life playing with the kids” at her house just outside the city where he lived.

“Mr. Sawyer,” said the store owner, “I loved your book. Finished it over the weekend before handing it off to my grandson. Over here is where you’ll be seated for the signing.”

Ben placed his book-bag on the table, which contained a book he was almost finished reading, a fresh composition notebook in case his sequel decided to show up in his head while he was scribbling his name onto copies of his first book, and a pack of his favorite pens which didn’t smear on the side of his left hand.

“Once you’re all set up here I can introduce you to the employees,” said the manager. “They’re all hoping to get their copies signed before the rush, if that’s all right with you.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Ben replied. He placed his notebook at the edge of the small table alongside a few of his pens. “Do you have any coffee here?”

“There’s a break room in the back, and I do believe a fresh pot was started just before you arrived.”

“Perfect.”

Halfway through his second cup of coffee the doors to the shop were opened and the line that’d been forming outside was let in. Ben went through the routine he’d formed during the last two signings, but was still trying to get it just right.

“I loved your book,” said the first person in line. “When will the next one be out?”

“Working on it now,” Ben replied.

“I finished your book in a single sitting,” said the second person in line. “I can’t wait for the next.”

“Must’ve been hard to get up after that,” Ben replied.

“I don’t know if you realized this but on page sixty-four you break the rules of third-person-limited for a second,” said the third person in line. “There’s no way Katheryn could know James was nervous even though he ‘didn’t show it’.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next one,” Ben replied.

Ben rotated his wrist as the line dwindled, winking one eye as he waited in anticipation for the satisfying crack that’d let him carry on.

“Hey,” said the woman standing before him.

Ben looked up and lost his voice for a moment.

“Hi,” he replied. “I mean, hey. How’d you like the book?”

The woman had a friend at her side that seemed to be egging her on to speak up and say more.

“I haven’t finished it yet,” replied the woman, pushing the book across the table towards Ben with her finger tips, “but I will. My name is Ellie by the way. Ellie Parson, but you don’t need to know that, do you? Are you signing the books to full names?”

Ben smiled. “Usually just first names, but for you I’ll make an exception, Ellie Parson.” He signed the book and handed it back to her. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Ellie sat next to her friend at a bar down the street from the bookstore, a glass of Riesling in front of each of them. She’d known her friend Natalie since childhood, and even though they grew up together they’d turned into very different people.

“You call that a throw?” Natalie scoffed at the television above the liquor bottles. “Give me a million and put me on the field, maybe we’d finally win a championship.”

“Nat,” said Ellie.

“What’s up? You’ve been hunched over and quiet since we got here. You got your book signed, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Ellie opened the book and smiled as she read the signature and the note that accompanied it, “To Ellie — And in case this book is lost I’m signing this to Ellie Parson. — Ben Sawyer”

“You feeling okay?” asked Natalie. “You have a smirk on your face I haven’t seen since high… Hold on! The last time you had that look on your face was when I told you Jake Martin was going to ask you to prom. You have a crush on the writer, don’t you?”

“A crush? Don’t be silly. I’m thirty five, I mean two, and I don’t get crushes anymore.”

“No judgments here,” said Natalie, raising her hands in the air. “He’s cute, too. Besides, you owe it to yourself to give it a try. Your marriage ended four years ago.”

“What does that matter? I’ve been on dates since.”

“What, like five? You tell me everything and I haven’t gotten any juicy gossip from you in at least two years.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Well, you could’ve been busy.”

Ellie smirked as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Bartender, we’ll take another round!”

Ben tossed his book-bag onto the desk in the corner of his hotel room and then collapsed onto the bed. He wiggled his hand over the edge of the bed, then pulled it back when he remembered Mojo wasn’t there to lick his fingers. He rolled from side to side until he gave up and got to his feet.

He’d stayed at the bookstore until closing at 8:00 p.m. From there he headed straight to his hotel room. He had another bookstore to visit the next day and then he’d be onto another city and another empty hotel room. Despite plenty of sleep he felt more tired than he’d ever been. Having spent most of his days alongside Mojo writing what would become a best seller he wasn’t used to interacting with so many people so often. Although he was tired it was clear his mind wasn’t going to let him rest, so he decided to do some exploring and grab a late dinner.

Ben found himself sitting at a bar. When the bartender showed up he ordered a ginger ale and a Caesar salad. He looked from one screen to the next, all of which showed either sports or people talking about sports.

“I can see the displeasure on your face,” said the bartender as he put the cold wet glass of soda on the counter in front of Ben. “Unfortunately, if I change the channel on any of these screens I’ll hear about it from my boss.”

“It’s okay,” replied Ben. “I’ve never been much of a sports guy, don’t know why. My father growing up lived for Sunday’s in front of the television. I never quite got the hype behind it all.”

“It helps if you pick a team,” replied the bartender, “or have a buck or two on the outcome of the game. See that guy over there?” Ben looked over to see a man at the far end of the bar. “He’s in here every Thursday. He’s lost so much money I feel bad even asking anymore.”

“Can’t win them all.”

“He can’t seem to win any.”

After finishing his meal Ben returned to his hotel room. He undressed and rested his head on the pillow. Out of habit he looked over the side of the bed to see if Mojo was doing his normal routine of spinning in circles before making the leap onto the bed, but his dog wasn’t there, and wouldn’t be there until the end of the month. Ben closed his eyes and tried to think of something else.

Ellie filled up the large bowl on the ground with cat food. She smiled as her two cats emerged from the spare room and came trotting towards the sound of the brown pellets hitting the stainless steel bowl. She picked up their water bowl and rinsed it out before filling it from the purifier in the refrigerator.

“You two have to promise not to fight today,” said Ellie. “I’m looking at you, Maggie. Your brother Morrison isn’t the enemy. I have a late meeting so I’ll be back later than usual. I may or may not be getting a sub with the chicken you both like for dinner, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Ellie locked the door and walked towards the elevator, making sure to slow down when passing by the woman three doors down that was always looking for a long conversation. In the elevator she pressed the button for the lobby and watched the number above the doors tick down from six.

Before heading towards the subway Ellie stopped in her favorite coffee shop, the first place she visited when moving to the city three years earlier in the chase of a life that didn’t remind her of the one she’d had with her husband of six years. Her family and friends, including Natalie, still all lived in the suburbs just outside the city, so although she was alone she was never far from those who mattered most.

“Hey Ellie,” said the barista behind the counter soon as she entered the shop. “I’ll get started on your iced coffee with a shot of espresso.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” she replied. She fetched her wallet out of her purse and handed Aaron both her rewards card and credit card.

“Today’s the big meeting, right?” asked Aaron as handed her cards back to her.

“You remembered. Yeah, I’m supposed to find out if my pitch has been accepted by the car company.”

“What was it again?” asked Aaron, tending to her order. “Drive right past the life you left behind?”

“You’ve got it. It’s catchy, right?”

Aaron placed her order on the counter. “It sounds like a winner to me. Best of luck. You’ll have to let me know how it went on Monday.”

“Will do,” she replied. “Have a great day.”

After a ten minute stint on the subway Ellie entered her office building and dropped her purse on the chair in her cubicle. From under her desk she pulled out her original pitch cards, which was her pitch alongside some graphics on poster board which she presented much like she had her eighth grade family tree, except instead of trying to get a good grade she was trying to keep her job.

As she reviewed the cards, in case any of their contents was brought up at the meeting, her phone vibrated on her desk. She caught the phone just before it fell off the side of the desk and checked the message. It was from Natalie, “Your writer boyfriend has another signing tonight. What time will you be out of your meeting?”

Ellie replied that she had to get home and feed the cats their wet food, or some chicken if she stopped for a sub on the way home. Natalie replied saying she’d stop in after work and feed the cats using the spare key Ellie had given her.

“I have an idea,” texted Natalie. “You’ll see when we meet up. The signing is at Barber’s Bookstore on West, from four to seven.”

“I’ll barely be able to make it,” said Ellie.

“Good,” replied Natalie. “See you there.”

Ben showed up to Barber’s Bookstore at 3:00 p.m. Upon entering nobody seemed eager to let him know where he could set down his things. He eventually walked towards the cash register and ringed the silver call bell sitting atop the counter. At the sound of the bell a man emerged from some sort of back room behind the counter, stretching his back as he made his way to Ben. The man was older than Ben, about twenty years older by the look of him. The man had a grey mustache that was so meticulous and thick it looked like it’d been starched. The man let out a loud yawn and popped his suspenders as he met Ben eye to eye.

“You the writer?” asked the man.

“Yes. Are you the owner?” asked Ben.

“Yup. You can set your things over there.” The man checked his watch, which had a gold face and a black leather wristband. “I’ve got two employees coming to help, both should be here in thirty minutes or so.”

“Do you have any coffee?”

“There’s a shop across the street. Take a walk over when you’ve placed your things.”

Ben sat at the table with his cup of coffee, trying to resist the urge to take a sip in an effort to make it last the length of his signing. His usual had always been a medium black coffee, but he’d pulled out the extra dollar and went for the large, knowing the second half of the coffee would be cold by the time he got to it, but he didn’t think he could survive the night without a proper dosage of caffeine.

Ellie left the meeting with a smile on her face that reached from ear to ear. Her pitch had been accepted and she’d be moving from her cramped cubicle to an office on Monday. She popped open the door to her new office to get a quick look and was excited to see a small window behind her new desk. She turned the lights on and walked to the window, her new office view was of the busy street below and the office building which contained the marketing firm that’d originally turned her down when looking for jobs in the city. She put her thumb to her nose and fanned her fingers in the air as he stuck her tongue out at the building.

As Ellie sat on the subway she read messages from Natalie, the first asking where the wet food was kept, the second saying she found it, and the third saying she was on her way to the bookstore to reserve a spot in line.

When Ellie arrived at the bookstore she found Natalie outside waiting at the end of the line.

“There you are,” said Natalie. “I had a better spot but wasn’t sure how long you’d be. I’ve been letting people go in front of me for the past twenty minutes.” Natalie looked past the few in line in front of her that were still outside and into the bookstore. “Not many people, we’ll make it before seven.”

“What was your plan you mentioned earlier?” asked Ellie.

“This,” replied Natalie, removing a book she had bundled in her coat.

“‘Fantasies of Love’, oh great.”

“It’ll be cute,” said Natalie. “You get him to sign this, flirt a little bit. Do that thing where you purse your lips and pull your hair back behind your ear.”

“I don’t do that,” said Ellie, pursing her lips and pulling her hair back behind her ear.

“Just like that. Good job.”

As they stepped forward in line Ellie could feel her cheeks turning red. She shook the feeling, telling herself she didn’t have a schoolgirl crush and that Ben was just a person like every one else. There was no reason to be nervous.

“Ellie Parson,” said Ben.

Ellie looked down and handed Ben ‘Fantasies of Love’.

“I’m afraid I didn’t write this one,” said Ben. “It looks good, though. Do you want it back?”

Ellie turned around to see Natalie giving her two thumbs up.

“Sorry,” said Ellie, “my friend,” she gestured towards Natalie, “thought it’d be cute to offer you the book, then ask you out. It seemed like a good idea to break the ice with a writer.”

“I see,” replied Ben, “well after this evening I’ll be leaving to finish my tour.”

“Oh,” said Ellie, “it’s okay. Never mind. I can take the book back. You’re probably busy anyway.”

“You’re the last person in line and I have the rest of the night free. I haven’t eaten dinner yet, care to join me?”

Ellie turned to see Natalie dancing around in circles. She turned back to Ben and pursed her lips as she pulled her hair behind her ear. “I’d like that.”

After dinner Ben walked Ellie to her apartment building and listened carefully to her instructions on how to get back to his hotel.

“Think you’ll be okay?” asked Ellie. “Here,” she pulled a pen from her purse and grabbed his hand, “call me if you get lost.”

“Will do,” he replied, looking down at the number she’d scribbled onto his palm. “Listen, I had a good time. My tour goes until the end of the month. I don’t exactly live close to here, but if you’re willing I can make the drive to do something again.”

“I’d like that,” she replied.

Ben locked eyes with her and moved in for a kiss.

“Well, goodnight, Ellie Parson,” he said, smiling as he stepped away.

“I’m not going to live that down, am I?”

One Year Later…

Ben sat down at his desk and opened his laptop. He put his hand by his side when he heard Mojo coming up behind him. He scratched his dog’s head as he looked out the window at his lawn, which was a few days past needing a cut.

“Let me get a few words out and then we’ll go outside, okay?” he said.

Ben sat at his laptop for an hour until giving up and walking with Mojo to the sliding glass door that lead out into the backyard.

When his arm began to feel sore from throwing the ball he crawled into the hammock and closed his eyes. He laughed as he felt Mojo’s tongue on his fingers.

Ben woke up from a nap on the hammock and walked back into the house, letting an eager Mojo rush inside before him. He checked the time on the microwave and ordered takeout on his phone. He opened up the front door and waited on the porch. Ellie’s car pulled into the driveway moments before the delivery driver.

“Good timing,” he said as he walked down the path towards the driveway where Ellie was getting something out of the backseat of her car.

“Subs again?” she asked.

“With the chicken your cats like,” he replied.

“Thank you,” she said, handing him a poster board, “can you bring this inside?”

“I have to pay the guy, first.” He placed the poster board on top of the car then walked towards the delivery driver. With the takeout in one hand he grabbed the poster board with the other and rushed to the front door that Ellie was holding open.

“Sorry,” she said, “I had some other things to bring in and didn’t want to make two trips.”

“It’s okay, I managed. How was work?”

“It was fine. My pitch for the suit company was turned down but they’re letting me rework it. They seem to think I’m close but not quite there yet.”

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Did you get any writing down today? Your editor wants the sequel by the end of the month, doesn’t he?”

“I got him to give me an extra month. The story is there, it’s just, not there. You know?”

“Just don’t let it get to you like it did over the winter. We have that reunion at my parent’s tomorrow and I don’t want you wandering off to write notes.”

Mojo ran through Ellie’s legs as she was walking up to the front door of her parent’s house. She was carrying a casserole which she handed off to her father when he greeted her and Ben at the doorway.

“Mojo, be careful,” said Ellie as the dog ran into the house.

“He almost got you,” said her father. “Ben, how are you?”

“Good, Chuck. How have you been?”

“Retirement suits me,” replied Chuck. “How’s that writer’s life treating you?”

“Suits me just fine. Hey, Ellie,” he said as he removed his shoes in the foyer, “maybe that could be your line for the campaign. ‘Suits me just fine.’ What do you think?”

“You’re onto something,” she replied, “but remember what I said. No work today, and that includes thinking about mine.”

Ellie and Ben walked into the kitchen where everyone was seated and engaged in a cloud of commotion. Her parents had an addition put onto the kitchen when Ellie moved out in her early twenties which made the space perfect for family gatherings. With the addition they were able to fit three large tables a step down from the original kitchen. After some rearranging the space where Ellie used to have her breakfast as a child was replaced with a tall island counter top, and her parent’s now had two stoves instead of just one.

“We’ve got a turkey in each oven,” said Chuck. “Hope you two are hungry.”

“I’m still stuffed from Thanksgiving,” said Ben. “You guys really know how to cook a meal.”

“Those birds go on discount right after the holiday and I’m always first in line. Two birds with enough sides and we can feed everyone in this house,” he looked around, “which is about to burst at the seems if anyone else shows up. Claire! Claire! Is your sister coming? You two find some seats. We’ll catch up later.”

After dinner Ellie and Ben walked out into the backyard and found a spot alongside Ellie’s parents and grandparents. Everyone was sitting around a small table with a bottle of red wine and a stack of red plastic cups.

“Want any?” asked Ellie, gesturing to the wine.

“Sure,” replied Ben.

“I’ve arrived!” shouted a voice from the open sliding glass door that lead to the kitchen.

“Nat!” shouted Ellie. “You missed the food.”

“Let me make a plate for you,” said Ellie’s mother, getting up from her chair.

“It’s okay, mom,” said Natalie, “I’ll grab some in a bit. I just wanted to come and see my sister from another mister.”

“You’re as much part of this family as anyone else here, Natalie,” said Ellie’s mother. “Come have a glass of wine.”

As the bottle on the center table dwindled Ellie looked around to see where Ben and Mojo had wandered off to. She excused herself from everyone and sauntered around the backyard until she found Ben leaning against the house in the side yard scribbling into a notepad.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

“Playing with Mojo,” he replied, “and possibly, maybe, writing.” Mojo ran up and dropped a tennis ball at Ben’s feet. “Do your parent’s have any tennis balls? I found this one in the car and it’s pretty beat.”

“You said you wouldn’t write today. You’re supposed to be spending time with my family, not standing around by yourself working.”

“I’ve only been gone maybe fifteen minutes. Mojo had to run around and a few ideas came to mind while we were playing. I found this pad while I was looking for his ball. Look,” he held up the notepad, “I think I’ve finally cracked the third act. If I just have James meet Kathryn at the — ”

“Leave.”

“What?”

“I want you to leave. Go home and finish your story if it’s so important. I’m staying here tonight.”

“Ellie, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s either your writing or me. Right now. Which is more important?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Which is it?”

Ben knelt down and scratched Mojo’s head.

“Come on, buddy,” he said, “let’s go home.”

Ben tossed the ball to the far end of the yard and waited for Mojo to bring it back. He turned his head to the side and jotted down and idea between each throw. To his left was his notepad and pen, to his right a diet soda. He continued the three tasks of throwing the ball, writing, and sipping from his can of soda, until the moon traded places with the sun.

“Hey neighbor,” said a voice from the side yard. Ben turned to see Natalie with her arms over the gate door that lead to the backyard.

“Hey, Natalie,” replied Ben. “What can I help you with?”

“Ellie needs some clothes,” she tapped her finger on her chin, “oh, and her cats.”

“Good luck getting those two in their crates.”

“Won’t you help me?”

“I suppose I should. Meet me at the front door.”

Ben let Natalie in the front door and the two of them searched the house for the two cats.

“It’s like they have a sense for when they’ll need to be put in their crates and know to hide,” said Ben. “Last time we brought them to the vet it took us close to half an hour to get both of them. You take the guestroom, Maggie likes the desk chair in there, but check under the bed and behind the dresser, too.”

Ben entered the master bedroom and checked under the bed, where he was met with a pair of glowing green eyes.

“Morrison, it’s okay,” he said. “Come on out. Treats?”

Ben picked up Morrison soon as the cat crawled out from under the bed. He put the cat in the bathroom and then fetched the two crates.

“How’re you doing in here?” he asked. He entered the guest room and saw Natalie’s legs sticking out from under the twin sized bed.

“I’ve almost got her,” said Natalie, “but she’s made of liquid and keeps slipping out of my hands.”

Once Natalie managed to get a hold of Maggie she handed the feline over to Ben.

“Wish me luck,” he said. “I’ll try to get these two into their crates.”

“Need any help?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, but there isn’t enough room for us both in there.”

Ben opened the door to the bathroom and let Maggie jump out of his arms and onto the tiled floor. He grabbed each of the crates and brought them in one at a time before closing the door.

“How’s it going in there?” asked Natalie, apparently listening from right outside the door.

“Only one scratch so far.”

“You’re pretty dedicated for a guy who chose writing over his own girlfriend.”

“That’s not what happened,” he replied. “There’s more to it than that.”

“Care to explain?”

“I’ve, ow, Maggie, it’s okay,” he sighed as he locked the crate with Maggie inside. “Morrison, your turn. I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember, and now that I’m living this life I can’t just give it up. Ellie means the world to me, of course, but she’s asking for an unfair sacrifice.”

“She works the nine to five, so you’re in separate boats and I totally get it.”

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ is coming on?”

“But, you need to learn to separate yourself from your writing during times that are important to her. She texted me last week saying you kept getting up during your movie night to write in a notebook.”

Ben opened the door and then picked up a crate in either hand.

“I survived.”

“Did you listen to anything I said?”

“I did, and you’re right. I don’t know how to separate it, though. I think it’s just a part of me.”

“Well you’re going to have to try if you don’t want to lose Ellie. She’s very important to me, and despite her gripes about your working habits I know she cares a lot about you.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, walking past her with the crates.

“You can come with me to drop everything off and say you’re sorry.”

“I have a better idea. Here, take these and meet me downstairs.” He handed Natalie the two crates and rushed into the hall and started towards the guest room.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

“There’s something I need to get in the attic.”

Ben entered the guest room and walked over to the closet. He slid the wooden closet door over and pushed aside the dresses and shirts Ellie couldn’t fit into her closet space in the master bedroom. Using the desk chair he propped himself up and slid over the thin piece of plywood that was covering the hole leading to the attic. He crawled up inside and pulled the string that dangled in front of his face. The attic was musty and filled with boxes of things he told Ellie he’d thrown out. He made is way towards the far end, where there was a box filled with books he couldn’t fit in the bookcase in his office and Ellie had asked him to donate, along with a few others he’d bought without her knowing and couldn’t part with. He rummaged through the box until he found the book he was looking for, then he made his way back down into the guest room.

Ben had the book tucked under his arm as walked down the stairs towards the foyer.

“You’re going to want to change your shirt,” said Natalie. She was standing by the front door with a crate on either side of her. “You’re covered in dust. What was so important you had to go into the attic?”

Ben showed her the book.

“I like the way you think,” she said.

After changing Ben grabbed the crate with Maggie inside and locked the door behind him.

“I grabbed a change of clothes for Ellie,” said Natalie, “but I’m hoping she won’t need them.”

“Should we get the cat’s litter? Food? Brushes?” He was placing the book into Maggie’s crate as he rattled off all the cat’s necessities “What about their — ”

“Her parents have all that stuff,” replied Natalie, “you forget they used to babysit these two kitties all the time before Ellie had you to watch them when she travels for work. Let’s get going.”

Ellie sat at the kitchen table alongside her mother as her father prepared a pot of coffee. She watched the steam spill out as the dark liquid filled the glass orb. She got up from her seat and checked the pantry. She was delighted when she discovered her parent’s still stocked her favorite cookies from when she was a child.

“You still have a sweet tooth I see,” said her father.

“I can’t seem to shake it,” she replied.

“I used the last of the decaf,” he said, filling the mugs. “I hope it was enough to make a decent cup.”

The three of them sat at the kitchen table, each with a warm mug beside a pile of crumbs. Ellie perked up at the sound of the front door creaking open.

“I’ll go help with the cats,” she said.

She turned the corner after leaving the kitchen and stopped when she saw Ben alongside Natalie.

“What’s he doing here?” she asked.

“Ellie, I can explain,” said Ben. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”

“What about every other time you chose writing over me?”

“I’m sorry for those times too, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“I mean,” he set down the crate in his hand and knelt down to open the metal door. “Excuse me, Maggie. Come on out.”

Ellie watched as Maggie left the crate and Ben reached inside to get something.

“I knew she’d protect it,” he said.

“Protect what?” asked Ellie.

“This,” he said, holding out a book as he took a step closer.

Ellie reached out and took the book from his hand.

“‘Fantasies of Love Two’,” she said. She furrowed her brow and bit her bottom lip. “That’s not fair,” she looked up and tried to resist the grin that was forming on her face, but she couldn’t stop it.

“I’ll do better to separate my fantasy world from our world. I’ve dreamed of this life for so long, it’s hard to believe I’m actually living it. You’re important to me. I need you to know that.”

“If this author writes a third book I hope you know I’m going to use it for our next argument,” she said, waving the book in the air.

“That’s fair,” he replied. “Should we head home?”

Ellie nodded.

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