Page 45 of Promise Me Never

“Oh?”

“It just seems…um…some of your notes contradict each other. I changed things how you suggested, and then on the second round, you say something different.” She pointed to his notes on the first page.

He sighed. “Yeah. I did suggest you make that line more compelling, but you went overboard. I mean, I don’t know what to tell you, Savannah. I don’t think I’m the right person to edit you. You’re taking it personally. A professional knows how to take criticism.”

She blew out a breath. “Maybe you’re right. I should work with someone else. It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“Well, you bought into a gallery for Poppy. And I feel like you’re not doing much to invest in my art. I guess I feel a little hurt about that.”

He gave her a scathing look. “Are you kidding me? What, should I buy a publishing house for you? Poppy was already an accomplished artist. I’m beginning to wonder if your interest in me is more professional than personal.”

Her throat tightened, and she fought back tears. She had to fix this. Everything she’d said had come out all wrong. “That’s not true at all. I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m sorry for bringing Poppy up. I can’t help but feel jealous sometimes, and I know that’s wrong and unreasonable. But I hate the thought of you loving anyone else. It seems like you wanted to do everything for her, and I couldn’t help comparing that with how I thought you’d be with my writing.”

“Savannah, you can’t seriously be jealous of a dead woman!”

She had to make him understand. “Don’t you get it? I’m jealous of your feelings for her. Her sculptures are still in the house. You wanted me to wear my hair like hers. I think you’re still in love with her.” Now she was sobbing.

He pulled her to him. “Babe, no. I love you. Poppy and I had our issues, especially at the end. I promise you, I’m not still in love with her. I’m crazy about you. I’m sorry if you feel like I’m not supporting you. From one writer to another, I’m simply telling you there’s no shortcut. In the end you’ll thank me for making you do the work.” He pulled back and wiped the tears from her face. “Also…”

“Also, what?”

“I’m not sure your premise is all that original. It’s been done to death. I think you should start fresh with something new.”

“Seriously? I’ve got almost forty thousand words. You’re telling me to trash it?”

He shrugged. “I’m not telling you what to do, but if you want to break in, I think you need something more original.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, doing her best not to break down again.

He stared at her, his hand lifting her chin. “We’re good?”

“Yeah. We’re good,” she said, her mind grappling with what he had suggested.

He smiled at her, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and his grip on her chin was a fraction too tight. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, and Savannah felt a shiver of something she couldn’t name go through her.

| Thirty-Nine |

Savannah

The next morning, Bennett woke her up with a kiss. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him. He was already dressed.

“Good morning,” she said, sitting up.

“Morning, babe.” He handed her a mug of coffee.

“Thank you.” She took a sip. “Sweet of you.”

“Get dressed, I have a surprise for you. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

When she got to the kitchen, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s the big surprise?” she asked.

He held out a hand to her. “Come on.” He stopped when they reached the mudroom, pulled down a coat and put it around her shoulders, then opened the door. A gust of wind made her shiver. He led her to the side door next to the garage and opened it.

“You first,” he said, gently pushing her toward the stairs, then following as she climbed.