EMILY

I told her of my chance encounter on the beach and everything that had transpired between the two of us … our conversation, how he reacted, and how it all made me feel. My hope and my confusion in all of it. She sat back and listened, waiting for me to finish. I was out of breath when I stopped talking and dampened my throat with the wine she had poured for me. Andrea sat there, deep in thought.

“You know God has a plan in all of this, don’t you?”

I just nodded. I knew this, but deep down I still wasn’t sure if I believed it. I was still very new at the whole faith thing.

“I think your answers will come in time. You both have a lot of catching up to do. What time does your workshop start tomorrow?”

“Ten. I forgot to mention it to him, so hopefully he comes early. I don’t know where he lives or how to get ahold of him,” I fretted.

“I have a feeling he will be very early.” She smiled at me.

I wished I could be as calm as she was; I was going crazy inside. I still couldn’t believe that I actually ran into him.

Andrea got up and finished off her wine and set the glass in the sink.

“I’m heading to bed. Five thirty comes way too early. Should I wake you up then or do you think you can get up on your own? Or will you even sleep?” She laughed knowingly at me.

“No, I will be up, I’m sure.”

And I was. With the way my thoughts were racing, I wasn’t sure if I could even shut it down, much less sleep. After a nice long shower, I curled up under the covers, and surprisingly, drifted quickly off to sleep.

I woke with a start early the next morning. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was 5:25. I got up and grabbed my favorite beat up old jeans and a T-shirt. I added a sweater over my shoulders for the early morning chill and an air-conditioned room. A day of sitting required comfortable clothing. I wasn’t there to impress anyone, well … maybe not at the seminar.

Spritzing some water on my hair, I fluffed out my curls and applied a bit of makeup and brushed my teeth. Maybe I could’ve taken a bit more time on my appearance—years ago I would have, but now, I am who I am. Love it or go away. I walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and found Andrea heading out the door. We planned on meeting later and catching dinner.

“Leave me a note or text me if the plan changes,” she told me with a smirk.

“It won’t,” I assured her and she just laughed and opened the door to leave.

“Tell it to your prince out there. He’s been wearing out the sidewalk for the last ten minutes.”

I rushed out onto the deck to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t. There was Elliot, strolling back and forth in front of the beach house. I waved and headed down to greet him.

“Hi” he said, looking at me. “You look beautiful.”

“Hi yourself. My workshop is at ten this morning.”

“I know. Let’s go grab breakfast. We have time to catch up a little beforehand.”

Reaching out his hand to me, I took it, and we started walking up the hill toward the town square.

“Wait!” I stopped him. “How do you know what time my workshop is?”

“I’m leading it.”

What are the odds of that? We both just started laughing and headed into town. This felt good … really, really good.

We picked up breakfast and sat outside at one of the little cafe tables by the restaurant. Our conversation flowed smoothly back and forth. None of the awkwardness I would’ve expected after all this time and our given history.

I told him about my work, editing, and my desire to write again, my friends, what I had been doing the past seven years. Some things, like my stalker problem, I omitted, not wanting to get into it. It felt so good to enjoy this moment instead of stressing about what could go wrong or what was happening back home.

Elliot told me more about his writing and his travels, which seemed be a constant in his life. His books were action-filled political mysteries with a bit of love thrown in. They always hit the bestseller list. I was in awe of his writing career and all the places he had traveled. I dreamed of being able to do that someday.

I asked him about the workshop, and he explained how he put them on several times a year to jumpstart aspiring writers. It was his way of giving back. He didn’t use his name when he advertised the seminars because he wanted to keep the groups small and intimate.

I felt relaxed, just sitting here, listening to Elliot. I kept watching him as he talked to me. His face was so full of emotion when he spoke of his writing and some of the crazier experiences he’d had. When we were together, he was known but nothing like now. It seemed like Elliot went from being a recognized author to a bestselling one overnight. I was happy for him, for his success, and just a bit envious.

He never once asked me if there was someone in my life, if I was single. In fact, we didn’t discuss the “we” part of the equation at all. In some ways that was good because I didn’t have the answers yet. I knew I still loved him and I missed him. But … I didn’t know where he was with everything and it didn’t seem to be coming up. He told me he missed me and the kisses? His kisses melted my frigid heart in seconds. I craved those lips on mine again. But, I was afraid of spoiling what we had going right now by bringing it up myself.

Time went quickly as we talked, too fast, as the need to head over for the workshop came before I knew it.

“The workshop is north a few blocks in the back room of my favorite restaurant,” he told me.

He grabbed our garbage left from breakfast and deposited it into a trashcan by the door and held out his hand to me. Rising up from my chair, I took it and followed him again as he led the way, his finger caressing mine softly as we walked. Just his touch sent shivers racing over my body.

The restaurant was a quaint little Italian place with signs boasting of everything being homemade. The aroma of the kitchen nearly brought me to my knees as we stepped inside. It was fantastic. Fresh bread, spicy sausage, and garlic … my mouth started watering and my stomach grumbled. I laughed out loud because I had just eaten. Elliot turned and laughed with me.

“My stomach does that every time I walk into this place.”

The room where the workshop was being held was set up with tables and chairs in a semicircle around a small podium. There was room for twenty-five people. It looked cozy with the padded leather chairs and white cloths covering the tables off to the side.

Baskets of bread sticks were placed on each table along with an array of sliced breads and olive oils for dipping. A small buffet was also set up with a selection of beverages and other snacks. I was really impressed now. I looked at Elliot and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I always got hungry when I attended workshops, so when I have one, I make sure there is food available,” he explained.

I remembered Elliot was always hungry. People started filing in so I took my seat, right in the center, so I could gaze upon him to my heart’s content while he spoke.

He stood by the door, welcoming people, shaking hands, and hugging a few here and there. Elliot had an easy mannerism with everyone, greeting them all as if he had known them for years. After everyone seemed to be settled in, he walked up front and started to speak.

Elliot was amazing! His love of the craft came through in every word he spoke. His excitement was contagious and I could see the enthusiasm spreading among every writer in the room.

The hours flew by like minutes. I had so many ideas I wanted to implement right away. My notebook was crammed with pages of notes I had written. So much so that my fingers were cramping from writing all afternoon.

He touched on ways to get your creative juices flowing, to setting up a place to write and making a time schedule to do so. He talked about energy suckers and writer’s block and different ways to work through the problems. Tomorrow he said we would discuss writing exercises and the key principles agents looked for in a manuscript as well as sharing some of our works in progress. He answered questions and gave out advice for a good hour after we were done.

I had planned on leaving when it was over, but he whispered in my ear to wait for him as he walked by me. I texted Andrea, telling her the workshop was running late and I would get there as soon as I could. She texted back telling me that she was catching dinner in San Diego with some old colleagues and that she hoped I would be fine on my own.

Hmmm … I smelled a set up. I sat back, listening, and waiting for Elliot to finish up. Believe me, it wasn’t hard at all.