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Daphne Vibes

Abi

“Abi, these are fantastic ideas. And Daphne’s story is already my favorite, even though it’s only been outlined,” my MFA advisor, Anna, said, smiling as we sat in her office. “I just have a feeling it’s going to be the centerpiece.”

“Yeah?” I hated that story now, even though I knew she was right.

I felt like that story had the most promise to be something really unique, but it was kind of becoming too gutting to work on.

The story was fiction, of course, but the characters were being played in my head by their real-life counterparts so it was a bit of a mindfuck, picturing Declan’s face as the one who betrays Daphne.

Especially now that we were over.

“I thought so at first,” I said, “but now I’m not so sure.”

Anna stared at me for a long moment, so long that I fidgeted in my chair.

“ You are wrong,” she said, taking off her glasses.

“Writing is subjective, but I’m confident on this one.

Think about it. The plot is interesting, the way these wealthy people suck her in and then spit her out without a care; very Daisy Buchanan and I love it.

But to me what’s far more compelling about this piece is watching Daphne get sucked in until she sees that these are really great people, right?

She goes from harshly judging them to ultimately considering them to be the most amazing of people, people she suddenly feels more than just an admiration of their wealth for; she can envision them being her family.

Throw in all the feelings, and the reader will be absolutely heartbroken along with her when those characters turn on her in the end. ”

“God, that’s terrible,” I said, my brain superimposing all of Declan’s inner circle onto my characters. It made my throat hurt.

“It’s fiction,” she said, giving me a pointed look as if to remind me that this wasn’t actually a story about me.

And she was right. The thought of writing it was harrowing, but it was by far the most thought-provoking of all my ideas.

After the meeting, I headed for Declan’s apartment to retrieve my notebook. I’d carefully packed all my things so I never had to return to his place, but then remembered last night that I’d left my notebook on the balcony.

Which was terrible. Awful. The last thing I wanted to do was return to his building.

But at least he wasn’t in town.

Somehow, I just couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him. I needed a clean break, and the thought of being anywhere near him felt like too much.

Overwhelming.

I let myself in when I got there, melancholy settling under my breastbone as I closed the door behind me. Somehow the apartment looked the same and different, all at once, because it wasn’t the place I cleaned for money and it wasn’t the place I’d stayed at…for money.

It was just…Declan’s home.

And I missed it so much already.

I started across the room, needing to get the notebook and get the heck out of there before I melted into a sobbing puddle in the living room. I was just about to open the patio door when I heard, “Are you here for this?”

I jumped at the sound of Declan’s voice— ohmygod he’s here— my heart in my throat as I set a hand on my chest and turned around. “You scared me.”

He was standing in the doorway of his office, wearing an impeccable gray suit, and he looked a lot like he had the first time I met him. Gorgeous, rich, perfect—and angry.

He was frowning—no, glowering—as he held out my notebook.

Oh, God.

“Y-yes,” I said, feeling unbalanced as my feet started moving in his direction. I managed a breathy little, “I can’t believe I left it here. Thank—”

“You’re a talented writer,” he said, raising the notebook. “I’m impressed, even if it isn’t the kind of literature I usually read.”

A thousand thoughts screamed through my mind as he looked at me, but the words that came out of my mouth as I grabbed it were, “You read it?”

I remembered him teasing me about the way I treated the notebook like it was top secret, and I also remembered him assuring me I didn’t need to worry because he would never read it without my permission.

I’d never do that, Mariano, come on.

“I did,” he said, his jaw flexing and unflexing as he watched me. “Since you left it here I thought perhaps you wanted me to.”

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but my cheeks were hot as I said, “No, I definitely didn’t want you to.”

The notebook was full of random thoughts and ideas and the initial first chapter I’d come up with for Daphne before I started drafting it on my laptop. I was mortified that he’d read it, so shocked and angry that I didn’t even know what to say.

“I’m glad I did, though,” he said, his voice entirely lacking in emotion. His eyes were flat when he said, “It’s nice to know what you really think about everything.”

If he’d said it in a different tone, I might’ve been compelled to explain that what he’d read was an early version of something very fictitious. I might’ve felt the need to clarify that I didn’t think he was anything like Connor.

But as he looked at me like that , distant and angry and like the grumpy millionaire I’d once thought he was, I realized it was the perfect excuse.

There was no reason to discuss real feelings or my genuine heartbreak when everything was already over, so who cared if he thought I’d written a lot of trash about him?

It wasn’t going to work out anyway and he didn’t actually care about me, so why not let him walk away pissed off about what he considered an inaccurate portrayal?

“Well, it’s nice to know you felt entitled to read it,” I said through gritted teeth. “Although I am surprised you didn’t pass it around to your little friends.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly the kind of thing I’m inspired to share,” he said, his jaw jumping as he watched me.

“Declan—”

“Abi.” He inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes impossible to read. “I have to go. Lock up when you leave.”

And then he was gone.

I had been dismissed.

I held it together until I went home to my crappy apartment—which felt way crappier now that I’d lived on the other side—and sat down at my desk to write.

Once I started, I couldn’t stop. It was gut-wrenching and terrible, and I cried the entire time I wrote it, but when I finished, even though it was a first draft, I knew it was fucking good.

Daphne deserved better than those assholes, but she also didn’t, because she’d let herself hope.

What a foolish, foolish thing.