Chapter 27
“Nice set of wheels,” Philip says, coming up behind me, nuzzling me on the neck with his scruffy beard.
“Thank goodness my publisher is footing the bill and not me.” I whirl around and wrap Philip in my arms. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You’ll be back home soon. It’s one of the sacrifices of a writer’s life.” The way he says sacrificesjostles me out of his arms. I look up into his blue eyes, grabbing his hand in mine. “Is something wrong, Philip?”
“Mmm?” He shakes his head. “No. Why?”
“You sound—” I shrug. “I don’t know…different?”
A headshake. “Everything’s fine.”
I look to where a copy of my book lay closed on the marble countertop. I recall my inscription to Philip: To my muse,with all my heart. C.
I look up at Philip and smile encouragingly.
A car horn blares.
“You better get going,” Philip says.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”