The Mistletoe Inn by Richard Paul Evans

Author:Richard Paul Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

CHAPTER

Eighteen

I feel like I’ve stepped over the edge of a cliff.

Kimberly Rossi’s Diary

The next morning Zeke wasn’t in the fitness center and I wondered if he had really stayed up reading my book. My fears started in on me. What if he hated my book and was now avoiding me? I shook my head. Why do I always torture myself with the worst possible outcome?

Coming back from the fitness center, I stopped in the dining room. I was running late and Samantha wasn’t there, so I grabbed a banana and yogurt and took it back to my room to get ready for the day. An hour later I walked into the workshop anticipating seeing Zeke, but he wasn’t there either. He still hadn’t arrived when our facilitator started the meeting.

“Let’s see, who are we missing?” Karen asked, looking at her list. “Zeke is AWOL. Who is Zeke’s writing buddy?”

Almost everyone looked at me.

“I am,” I said, slightly raising my hand. “But I haven’t seen him this morning.”

“Today we’re sharing, so you’ll need to pair up with another group,” she said.

“You can come with us,” Heather said.

I tried to look grateful for the invitation. “Thanks.”

I had nothing to share. I had only brought three copies of my book, two for the agents and now Zeke had my third, so I spent the entire workshop listening to Heather and her writing buddy, an eighty-year-old woman, read chapter after chapter of the most cloying love stories ever penned and feigning interest. I was glad when the workshop was over.

As I walked out of the room Samantha was waiting for me, her face twisted with disgust. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I hate my workshop group. I swear they’re all freaks.”

“And why is this?”

“They spent the whole session arguing over who kisses better, a vampire or a werewolf. What they finally decided was that a vampire is good with its mouth and sucking, where the werewolf is in touch with its inner animal.” She breathed out. “What do you think?”

I tried not to smile. “I think it comes down to whether you like hairy men or smooth ones.”

“Good point,” she said. “I should have said that. Walter isn’t hairy at all. Like, my writing buddy is hairier than he is.”

“Isn’t your writing buddy a woman?”

“That’s my point,” she said. “I missed you at breakfast this morning.”

“Sorry. I was running late so I just grabbed something and took it to my room.”

“I thought maybe you’d run off with Clooney.”

“No. I don’t even know where he is today. He skipped the workshop.”

“He wasn’t in your workshop?”

“No.”

“But you did have dinner last night?”

“Yes.”

“And how did that go?”

“It was nice.”

“By ‘nice’ do you mean Walmart greeter nice or Brad Pitt nice?”

“What are you asking?”

“I’ll spell it out. Are. You. In. Love?”

I stared at her. “I just met him yesterday.”

“And your point is . . .”

“My point is, I just met him yesterday.”

She shook her head. “Seriously, you’re a romance writer. If you don’t believe in love at first sight, you might as well turn in your pen.

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