A firm believer in "Exes can be friends," Chassie Lewis has proven everyone thinking otherwise wrong. For almost four years now, she's been happily divorced from her ex-husband, Nathaniel Forester. The sparks had flown and crashed between them a lon...
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Chassie George
Ethan followed me with his gaze as I pace restlessly in the kitchen. He sat small on the chair, still in his PJs as he ate his cereal. We finally had one thing in common – well, physically: bedhead. The call from Howard Samuels kept me up all night. I overslept. If it hadn't been for Ethan bouncing on the bed, I'd woke up in the middle of the day.
My laptop perches on the counter, like a reminder of my hard work and current restlessness. I chewed on my lip, my phone over my ear as I wait for Julie to pick up. She missed a couple of calls. I tried again, desperate now. I need to talk to her.
My breath came out in a shaky breath when she finally answered. "Thank, God. Where have you been?"
"Okay, holy shit, I just heard. You need to tell me exactly how much Howard Samuels begged you," Julie started off from the other line.
"Jules, "beg" is a strong word."
"Pleaded?" She asks.
"Requested," I corrected. "He called me yesterday. My replacement hasn't been doing very good. The readership depleted strikingly over the past few weeks I was gone."
"Those were his exact words?"
My eyes flitted to a beaming Ethan showing me an empty bowl of his breakfast. I gave him an appreciative smile before reaching for the box of cookies on the shelves. I took one cookie and gave it to him – his real reward for finishing his breakfast.
He thrusts his bottom lip at me and gestured two fingers.
I shake my head. One cookie.
"Please?" He showed me his clean bowl again.
Caving in, I took another one.
He gave me a winning smile.
"Yes. Those are his exact words. And I remember him telling me the matter is urgent or he wouldn't have called."
She scoffed. "He finally swallowed his big-ass pride."
I laugh.
"I know this would happen. I read the guy's stuff and it's so stiff. What else did he say?"
"That he needs those readers back and," I suck in a deep breath, "he needs me."
There was silence on the other line.
"Julie?"
"I'm still here. Dear, ole Betty just passed my desk and did a double take on my skirt. He said he needs you, what else?"
I propped my hand on my waist. "Well, aren't you surprised?"
"Why?" She asks, genuinely confused.
"Because he said he needed me. And he also said I'm an exceptional writer and I have always had this potential," I continued with a slight, disbelieving laugh.
