“I’m always looking out for you, honey.” Frannie kissed him on the cheek. Those two were such relationship goals. It was so cute.
“Don’t forget the author bus leaves early tomorrow morning,” Bernadette reminded all of us. She’d gathered up her bag and climbed to her feet as well. “No stragglers.” Of course she looked directly at me as she said the last part.
“I’m looking forward to hearing all of you speak tomorrow,” Garrett said. He was getting up to leave for his room as well. I guess he’d decided against the midnight swim. “I think your panels will be highly informative.”
God, could he be a bigger suck-up?
Then I realized everyone was leaving.
“Wait.” I blinked at all of them as they filed past me. “That’s it? The night is over?”
“You and I have the first panel, Jo,” Bernadette warned me from the outdoor steps to her room. “Right after the welcome speech. You should go to bed. You know what you’re like if you don’t get enough sleep.”
I loved Bernadette, but sometimes she seemed to forget I wasn’t one of her kids. I waved at her. “Thanks! But I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby by eight.”
“Sure you will.” Bernadette rolled her eyes as she pulled the key to her room from her bag.
“I will!”
Kellyjean squeezed my hand again while smiling at me kindly. “I’ll make sure you’re up by then if you want, Jo. I’m always up at dawn so I can watch the sunrise. And if you want I can bring my diffuser to your room now and show you how it works. I promise my oils will get you writing again.”
I smiled back at her, though the thought of having a diffuser in my room pumping out her strong-smelling oils was completely unappealing. “Thanks anyway, Kellyjean. But I’m afraid it’s a lost cause. I don’t think tincture of rose oil or whatever is going to make any—”
“Look!” Kellyjean gasped, and then her arm shot past my face as she pointed toward the night sky. “A meteor! Do you see it?”
I followed the direction of her index finger and was shocked to see not one, but two bright stars dive across the dark, velvety heavens and disappear amid the palm fronds above our heads.
“I saw two of them.” I gripped Kellyjean’s hand with excitement. “Two!”
“I saw three!” she cried. “Oh, Barnabas is going to be so thrilled when I tell him. Now, don’t forget to make a wish.”
“On a falling meteor?”
“Of course!”
I should have realized she meant it. Kellyjean believed mermaids—and fairies and werewolves—were real. Why wouldn’t she believe that a wish made on a falling star (also known as a meteor) would come true, as well?
“You do what you want,” she said. “But I’m wishing.” She closed her eyes, looking as if she was concentrating very hard, so I did the same. Why not? It wasn’t like my luck had been so great lately that I could afford not to. And it certainly couldn’t hurt.
Only, what to wish for? I didn’t believe in wishes any more than I believed in mermaids or magic, but for over a year, whenever I’d found an eyelash or saw the first evening star, I’d superstitiously wished for the same thing:
Something bad to happen to Will Price.
Not for him to die or anything. Wishes weren’t real, of course, but even if they were, I would never wish for anything like that to happen to someone.
But I wouldn’t mind seeing something just a little bit bad happen to Will Price. Like for him to get the kind of debilitating writer’s block that I had.
Or maybe for him to get into a Twitter war with a beloved social icon like Tom Hanks, so that everyone turned on him.
Or possibly for him to get stung by a jellyfish. Just something.
But now that he’d apologized—even if his apology had been very stiff and British and come out of nowhere and therefore not been very satisfying—I was surprised to find that I didn’t wish him that kind of ill anymore.
Obviously I didn’t like him, even if he did have a very cool sister who was on a dance team and loved my books.
But I didn’t wish him ill.
So I decided to wish for something else. Something positive instead of negative.
Was it possible that the essential oils Kellyjean wore had already rubbed off on me and were making me a better person?
When I opened my eyes, I found her staring at me expectantly.
“Well?” she asked. “What’d you wish for?”
“Kellyjean, you know I can’t tell you that. I don’t know much about wishing, but I do know that if you tell someone what you wished for, your wish won’t come true.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense. In my family, we always tell each other our wishes, and they still always come true. Here, I’ll tell you what I wished for: that while you’re here on Little Bridge Island, you’ll find whatever it is that you’re searching for.”
I was touched. Kellyjean could be a ditz sometimes, but she was a genuinely sweet person.
“Oh, Kellyjean,” I said, leaning over to give her a hug and this time finding the scent of her oils agreeable. “Thank you. That is so nice. But you didn’t have to waste your wish on me. And what makes you think I’m looking for something, anyway?”
“It’s never a waste to use a wish on another person,” she said, hugging me back. “And of course you’re looking for something. That’s what’s keeping you from writing your next little kitty cat book. And let’s be honest, Jo: you’re such a mess right now, you need wishes way more than I do.”
That sounded more like the Kellyjean I knew. “Thanks a lot,” I said with a wry laugh as I released her.
“You’re welcome, hon. So go ahead, tell me. Whadja wish for?”
But I shook my head. The wish I’d made was one I intended to keep all to myself … at least for now.
The Moment by Will Price
When Melanie raised her head to look at me, her eyes were shining as bright as the moon. I caught my breath, tightening my grip on her shoulders and drawing her close to me.
I don’t know how I found the nerve, but somehow, my mouth grazed hers, just once. Then, when she didn’t object, again.
A second later her arms slipped around my neck, and I found my hands cradling her head, my fingers tangled in the thickness of her hair. Our open mouths met.
Kissing her was easy. I kissed her lips, her cheeks, her throat, the soft hollows behind her earlobes. My hands explored the territory beneath the fitted green jacket and found that she wore something silky beneath it. Her fingers clung to the back of my neck, and the touch of her lips sent chills up and down the backs of my arms.
She kissed me like she meant it. I wasn’t used to that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Meeeeeee-OW!
I woke up to the ringtone on my phone jangling in my ear. I struggled to find it in the mountain of fluffy hotel throw pillows I’d passed out against, lulled into unconsciousness by a combination of wine, The Moment, and the diffuser Kellyjean had insisted on setting up before returning to her own room.
“To bring you inspiration,” she’d said.
What the gentle hissing sound and surprisingly pleasant scent of rose had apparently brought me instead was the deepest sleep I’d had in months.