Page 105 of The Perfect Rom-Com

I’m absolutely surrounded by plants.

I realize the lights are all off. My apartment gloomy and quiet but for the explosion of light here beside my desk window, and in my mind.

I rub my incredibly scratchy eyes and reach for my water bottle. How long has it been since I blinked?

I take a sip.

Stare at the blinking cursor by the title.

Backspace.

Rewrite the title: Meet Me Under the Bridge.

A fresh title to symbolize the protagonist’s journey—Gran’s journey, really—in leaving her world, and hurts, behind to start fresh on new land and, along the way, building The Bridge and finding immense joy. Comedic relief in her friendships. Love (because, of course, rom-coms must have their love). A powerful message wrapped up in a delightful road trip through the heart.

“The best book yet,” I murmur to myself, not out of pride but out of certainty.

This will work.

I press the email button.

Type in Jack’s email, an email I never wanted to type again.

But for the sake of The Bridge, for the sake of this almost impossible dream of saving it . . .

Time to see how 312 pages could change . . . everything.

Chapter 23

“—yes, Maria, I know doctors often scribble their signatures like a flat line with a little squiggle. But if you look here, at the bottom of your practice checks, see how I did mine? Just a nice, curvy line, see? Connect the letters. No, we don’t use cursive anytime in life, really, but for the test, they’ll want to see if you can write your name like this. Like on the board. Now grab your pencils, and start writing out your signatures on the practice checks— Are you kidding me?”

Pencils stop as the students all around me look up midscribble.

The class is packed today.

The next round of GED tests is in four weeks, and I’ve decided during the wait to go as speedily as I can. My goal is to get as many students through the GED tests as possible in the next two and a half months. And while I have so very little I can control, this I can.

I’ve extended hours in class time and added evening sessions.

Sure enough, Gloria was halfway right, and I’ve ended up opening my home for group study sessions—particularly for the students who are close to taking their tests.

I went back to work last week. The hour after I shot off that email to Jack.

Realized I couldn’t sit on my hands any longer. I had to go.

Had to do.

It’s been helpful, this rushing around, teaching the students as quickly and efficiently as I can. Grading tests. Printing off extra practice tests.

Mr. Platt in the level above secretly resents me for this. Five students moved up to his advanced level just yesterday, and the look on his face when I knocked on the door surrounded by them, saying with a cheery, overbright, “Look who passed their level 4 exams!” was priceless.

I don’t blame him.

We’re all stressed.

But it’s not going to stop me from trying to get them moved up and to graduation level before the semester ends.

Now we’re in class, and I’m teaching through lesson 22 on writing checks.