Author Anonymous: A True Story

  Getting straight to business, Brooke takes a seat at the desk in the corner of the room and opens the lid to her computer while I battle my internal depression that’s shrouded in barbed wire.

  I look out the window at the weather that parallels my mood. Dark clouds hang low, coloring the city pale. The gray sky weeps a faint mist, staining its gloom over anything and everything.

  This is all wrong.

  “You’re number thirty-seven on Amazon’s top one hundred.”

  Her cheery voice darkens my world even more. Just another reminder of how everything has changed. With every book release, I’ve always woken up to a proud Landon. “Congratulations, Tor. Another one for the win,” he’d say. A bouquet of flowers would always show up midday, and when evening fell, we would all go out as a family for pizza at Basta Pasta, a little Italian joint in Cambridge. Release day has always been steeped in traditions, traditions I’ve destroyed. And now, I celebrate alone with Brooke in a hotel room.

  Realization crystalizes that all the traditions Landon and I created for our family will no longer be. Birthdays, Christmases, first days of school, family movie nights, Halloweens—nothing will ever be as it was. Everything will be split, severed, and forever changed.

  When I feel the sting of threatening tears, I take another sip of my coffee.

  “Number thirteen on Barnes and Noble and sixty-one on iBooks,” she says as I blink melancholy back. “I can’t believe it’s doing so well.”

  She’s read the book; she knows it sucks too.

  Looking at me from over the top of her computer, she asks, “What’s wrong?”

  “How is that even a question?” My words come out thick, exposing pain.

  With eyes filled with sorrow, she pushes herself clumsily out of the chair and joins me on the bed. I toss the sheets back and make room for her. She lies with me, our backs resting against a mound of pillows stacked against the headboard. Neither one of us speaks for a while as we both mourn my vile choices. But it doesn’t feel like choices we’re mourning, it feels like lives—it’s the death of so many years our families have shared, so many memories, so many joys.

  Everything that was no longer is.

  “He came over for dinner last night,” she eventually says, killing the silence. “The kids played upstairs and he finally opened up to me and Chris.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He’s scared of losing his family, Tor. You have thirteen years, two kids, and a home filled with countless memories. He doesn’t want to lose all that.”

  My face crumples as my back trembles, and I finally cry in the safety of my best friend, of my sister. I drop my head into the dip between her chest and pregnant belly, and she wraps her arms around me while the salt of my wounds bleeds into the fibers of her shirt.

  “I’m scared for you,” she says, her own voice breaking in sadness. “I don’t think you’ll find another man who will love you as much as he does.”

  “But it’s not fair to him if I don’t feel it in return,” I whimper. “It would be so much easier if it were the both of us who fell out of love, but it’s just me.” I wipe my wet cheeks. “I wish to God that I felt for Landon what I feel for Alec. I don’t want to lose my family either, Brooke. Everything he doesn’t want to lose are all the things that have kept me with him for this past year.”

  “Do you love him? Alec?”

  “I do,” I tell her. “I’ve never felt anything as strong as what I feel for him.”

  “And he loves you?”

  I waver.

  He claims he does without words spoken, but with action and doing. It troubles me because I’ve always been a words person. I need them to reassure, to validate, to seek comfort. They say actions speak louder than words . . . maybe they’re right. After all, he’s always been there since day one. Why would he deal with a woman like me for so long if he didn’t love me? I came to him with more baggage than most men would want to take on, but he took it, bore it for the both of us, and has never judged. I can see how I must’ve hurt him the other night when I demanded what he’s already consistently shown me.

  “He does. He loves me and takes care of me,” I respond.

  “And he’s worth leaving your family for?”

  “There’s no way to answer that.” I run my hand over the top of her belly and let it rest there. “I’ve been searching for certainty, but it doesn’t exist. Every choice we make is out of hope. I hoped I would marry Landon and it would be forever. I hoped I would find success as a writer. I hoped I would never wind up being the person I’ve become. But no matter how much hope I had, never did I have certainty. But I do believe that Alec is worth the risk of putting my hope into.”

  “So, you’ve made up your mind?”

  A thunk to my cheek startles me, and I pop my head up. Staring at Brooke with wide eyes, my mouth tugs in a warm smile, a smile she mirrors.

  “I think she’s trying to knock some sense into you,” she teases.

  Emotions blend as a soft laugh breaks through my tears. Life and death, sadness and joy—life is just as confused as I am.

  I turn my head back to her belly, splay my hand over the baby girl Brooke has given to me as a goddaughter, and voice through my remaining tears, “I pray to God that you never feel a pain like this. I pray that you don’t rush through life, that you take your time to discover who you truly are before giving yourself to someone else. And I pray that you’re just like your mommy and nothing like me—”

  “Tori.” I look to Brooke whose eyes are welled.

  I shrug my shoulders, owning what I’ve done. “I’m not a good person. Don’t even try to tell me I am.”

  “Yes, you are,” she counters. “You’re in the middle of a shit storm that you created, but you’re still a good person.” She places her hand on top of mine and smirks, adding, “You’re just a good person who makes the worst choices ever.”

  Laughter returns. “You’re such a bitch,” I joke.

  She cocks her head with pride. “So I’ve been told. Now, go bring me my laptop so I don’t have to roll out of this bed like a two-ton hippo. And you need to get your ratty ass in the shower and pull yourself together. I refuse to let you sit around and mope all day.”

  I get out of bed and hand her the computer, taking her orders like a trained monkey because she’s right: I can’t let this situation drown me. I have to keep on moving.

  When I get out of the shower, Brooke is voice messaging Erin about making a few social media posts about the release and organizing a giveaway for her to run in conjunction to the posts. The day moves on, and so do I. I do what I can to busy myself in an attempt to dissipate the ever-hovering clouds above. I take my time with my makeup and fix my hair before getting dressed. Brooke sets the computer up for a Podcast interview I have scheduled with one of the bigger blog reviewers out there. Once live, I discuss the book and answer questions that come in real time through Twitter, all the while wearing the mask of deception. I smile and beam as I talk excitedly about the book I couldn’t have cared less about, because all I care about is myself, but I deceive the fans well. If only they knew the person who lives behind Madilyn Kline.

  The day goes on with phone calls from my editor and agent, both thrilled about the rankings that have improved from earlier this morning.

  “This baby just might secure a spot on the New York Times,” Tabitha says with a tone of relief, and I apologize again for my unprofessionalism.

  Facebook messages roll in from bloggers and fans, and I do my best to respond while Brooke talks to a few more authors she’s become close with through book signings. I’m truly lucky to have found a small group of author friends who refuse to get caught up in egos. We stick together, no matter what successes and failures we have. We’re always there to help and support, and today is just another example of our sisterhood.

  Publishing is a game of strategy and luck. Some say it’s purely talent, but I say that’s bullshit. I’m now ranked number twenty-two o
n Amazon’s overall top one hundred with a crappy book with even crappier writing. This book has about as much talent behind it as an auto-tuned boy band. But the cover is good, and I’ve got great contacts with book reviewers, columnists, and authors who promote me. Most of all, I’ve got the greatest fans out there. They are loyal and loud, creating the best buzz one could ask for. I have an agent with balls of steel who fights hard for me, and an editor who refuses to give up on me. But most of all, I have Brooke. She busts her ass for me every single day. She’s my secret weapon.

  Even though I have all this goodness, my world continues to crumble around me. If it weren’t for Brooke, I’d still be in bed sleeping the day away, because when I don’t have Alec, the hours are too much to battle on my own.

  I tried texting him earlier, but he hasn’t responded. He told me he’d be in meetings all day, but it’s nearing three o’clock and a part of me was hoping for some acknowledgement from him in regards to my book publishing.

  We order room service as another hour passes. I’m now ranking eighteen on Amazon, the powerhouse of all the bookselling platforms. Brooke is stuffing a wad of fries in her mouth while telling me what she’s going to be spending her bonus on. It’s always been our deal: if I make the New York Times, then I pay her a hefty monetary reward.

  I call room service to deliver a pot of coffee when I start to lose steam. Another phone call comes in—an old friend from college who I still keep in touch with. She congratulates me, and after a few minutes of chitchat, we hang up. I take the last bites of my salad when room service knocks on the door.

  “I have to pee!” Brooke announces for the fiftieth time today, and I roll my eyes at her need to make the announcement each and every time.

  I walk over to the door, drained and exhausted and in need of caffeine, but what I get is so much more. A current of electricity sparks through muscle, tendons, and bone. Alec looks amazing in a suit with an unbuttoned collar, holding a much too expensive bottle of champagne.

  “You’re here,” I beam with an obnoxious smile.

  I sling my arms around his neck as he walks us into the room and shuts the door behind him. I nip his neck with a soft kiss and breathe in the spice of his cologne. In an instant, the gray lifts, and I’m catapulted into a realm of euphoric joy.

  God, he makes me so happy.

  He holds me tightly in his arms, the scruff of his five o’clock shadow bristling my cheek when he whispers gruffly in my ear, “I plan on pouring this entire bottle of champagne over your naked bo—”

  “Tori,” Brooke snaps, driving bliss into a dark hole.

  Alec and I unwrap ourselves from each other as she glares at us with her arms folded across her chest.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was coming.”

  She walks over to the desk and snatches up her laptop. “I don’t want any part of this.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You already are a part of this.”

  “It’s one thing for us to talk about him,” she says, directing her arm toward Alec. “But I don’t want it thrown in my face when your husband is—”

  “Don’t go there!” I yell.

  Alec sets the bottle down on the coffee table and takes a step toward Brooke, saying, “I never would’ve come if I had known you were here, and I can assure you that Victoria didn’t mean to throw us in your face. She was just excited to see me.”

  Brooke’s eyes are practically glazed in acid and disgust as she glowers at Alec, and I can’t take the disrespect. “Stop looking at him like that.”

  “He calls you Victoria?” she ridicules.

  “You have no reason to not like him. You want to hate him because you don’t know him, but I’m the one you should hate.”

  “He knows you’re married! Don’t act like he’s innocent in all this.”

  “You’re right,” Alec says to her. “I’m not innocent. I’m just as guilty as she is.”

  “Why are you guys doing this?”

  “I love him,” I defend. “Eventually you’re going to have to get to know him, because I can’t keep hiding him as if he doesn’t exist.”

  Brooke shakes her head, and I’m torn between the two of them. I hate that I’m hurting her, especially in her fragile state. The last thing she needs is to be getting angry with her due date right around the corner.

  “Landon is one of my best friends,” she says, sticking up for the man who doesn’t have a voice in this since I’ve blinded him from the truth that lurks right under his nose.

  I’m a monster.

  But I won’t defend another man in front Alec. I won’t disrespect him like that, so I keep the focus on the here and now. “Alec’s a good guy too. You keep telling me and assuring me that I’m not a bad person, that I’m just making bad choices. With me, you’re forgiving. Why is Alec any different?”

  “I don’t know. It just is.”

  “It’s fine,” he tells me before turning his attention to Brooke. “Put it all on me because she’s been through enough this past year, and I refuse to allow her to carry this burden on her back any longer. You want to hate me because it’s easier? Then hate me. Blame me. Take it all out on me because there’s nothing I won’t do to protect her from any more heartache.”

  “You want to protect her?” Brooke sneers, stepping up to him. “Then leave her alone.”

  Alec turns to me. “Is that you want?”

  “No.” My answer is firm when I walk to stand by his side.

  Brooke keeps her focus on me. With sadness in her eyes and anger on her tongue, she seethes, “I’m so mad at you.” Her strong façade cracks, and a tear fights its way down her cheek.

  I don’t respond, because what can I possibly say? I love Brooke and I hate that I’m hurting her again. I hate all of this and wish I could make it all go away, but that’s no longer a possibility. This has spun too far out of control that it’s past the point of stopping. I’ve fallen for another man, and now I have to carefully calculate how to end things with Landon without him finding out about this affair until we’re officially done. The last thing I want is a bitter divorce even though I know I deserve it.

  Brooke pushes past us and walks out, leaving Alec to mend the unmendable. But somehow, he manages, because that’s how powerful he is—he’s a force to reckon with. He’s the antidote that intoxicates and heals, refusing to let me break. Licking my wounds, he frees me of guilt and misery and takes me as I am, faults and all.

  The sound of my cellphone ringing pulls me out of a deep slumber. I reach out my arm and fumble my hand over to the nightstand. The light from the screen nearly blinds me. I pinch my eyes shut before I can see who’s calling and answer the phone with a groggy, “Hello?”

  “Tori, it’s Chris.”

  “Chris?” I blink my eyes open. “Is everything okay?”

  Alec stirs from behind me.

  “Brooke just went into labor. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

  “Oh, God. Okay, I’ll—I’ll get myself together and head that way.”

  “I’ll text you the room number when we get there,” he tells me.

  “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Is everything okay?” Alec questions on a sleepy rasp as he slips his arm around me.

  I roll over to face him, the warmth of his body consuming me. “Brooke’s in labor. She’s on her way to the hospital.”

  I haven’t spoken to Brooke since she stormed out of my hotel room. It’s been almost a week, but no matter the tension between us, I wouldn’t miss the birth of her daughter for anything.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Yeah. I need to be there.”

  His arms band around me, tugging me flush against him as he lets out a sleepy growl. “You have to leave right now?”

  “I have a few minutes.”

  “That’s all I need.”

  A giggle falls from my lips when he flips me over. I quickly shimmy out of my pajama pants as Alec yanks down his boxers. I’m already
wet for him. He spreads my legs and pushes my knees down into the bed, opening me up wide for him. Bending down, he takes a taste before sinking his cock inside of me like he has perfect right to be there—and he does.

  “What do I taste like to you?”

  Rearing back slowly, a smile twists his lips. “Like sin,” he says, thrusting dangerously hard back inside me, kicking the air out of my lungs.

  With my arms around his neck, I hold on to him as we fuck each other urgently, desperate to rip the other apart to find our release.

  I’ve never had as much sex before in my life, but with Alec, it’s all I seem to think about. Even in the beginning, I couldn’t talk to him on the phone without mindlessly slipping my fingers down my panties. He’s just as eager as I am though. He made it clear that, even early on in his adolescence, he had a high sex drive. I’m seeing it more since I left Landon and have been spending most of my days and nights with Alec. The smell of our sex is always in the air, but still, even with all the orgasms, I want more.

  I wear the scent of Alec on my skin, the phantom pressure of his hands on my body lingers, and the orgasm he gave me still echoes deep inside. Contentment wraps around me like a blanket as mirth paints itself on my heart.

  The sliding doors open to the women’s hospital, exchanging warm obsidian night for the fluorescent chill of sterilization. With the birth of my two girls and Brooke’s son, I know my way around, so I quickly hop in the elevator and head up to the labor and delivery rooms.

  Opening the door, I find Chris standing next to the bed, holding Brooke’s hand. I ease quietly into the room, and when Brooke leans her head to look over her husband’s shoulder, I speak softly, saying a simple, “Hi.”

  “Can you give us a couple minutes?” she asks Chris, and before he leaves the room, he gives me a hug.

  When it’s just the two of us, I immediately apologize. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

  “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have exploded the way I did.”

  “It won’t be this way forever,” I tell her. “I’m just trying to figure everything out.”