Decorum Book Tour Restarts...

Exciting things are on the horizon. The Decorum book tour continues. This weekend I’ll be at the Osterhout Free Library for a reading from Decorum, signing books, and answering questions about the writing and publishing process. So, whether you’re an avid reader or an aspiring writer, join me. Later in the month, June 22, I’ll be at Wilkes University’s Literary Fest.

Substack Subscription

While I am working on my next novel, I’m having so much fun writing novellas for you all on Substack. If you’re looking for your next good read or a replacement for doom scrolling, check out my free novellas and short stories. If you like what you read, subscribe for as little as $5 for access to more.

Unrequited and Other Half (Book 1 of the Carla Colon Series) are among the favorites available...and book 2, Residual, of the Carla Colon Series is now available. Remember to leave me a like and comment if you enjoy any of these works.

Currently Reading & Mindful Moments

Y’all, I am STILL reading The Business Trip by Jessie Garcia. This is a great book, but I can’t regularly make the time to read. I can definitely get lost in a good book and have been caught up in the suspense of Garcia’s novel. The problem is that when you’re stealing time here and there, you can’t truly enjoy the experience. The good news - I am slated to teach at one of my alma maters this fall, and with the semester approaching, I get to read (and re-read) some great stuff....in depth. So, as usual I am two-birding it. Haha!

How are y’all finding ways to carve out time for things, hobbies, etc, that you love?

Another thing I’m working on - romanticizing efficiency. I had to switch up my planning style - at least for my writing career - so as to take away that chore feeling. Writing is a passion, but when you’re a wife, educator, and mom, there are times when every single thing feels like a chore. I just want to share my stories with everyone. I don’t want to spend writing time and creative energy, creating social media content....but, it’s part of it all. So, I switch up my planning style, my planner cover, and make it all pretty. Then, it feels more like a creative endeavor.

Anywho, hope to see you all on the book trail.

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for subscribing. xo

Thank you so much everyone for your continued support! Welcome to anyone new here. Drop me a line. Love chatting with you all.

The Decorum Book Tour Continues…

The Decorum Book tour continues next month. Here are the dates and places -

Reading & Publishing Chat, Osterhout Free Library

Saturday, June 13, 1pm

Reading & Book Signing, Wilkes University's Literary Fest

Monday, June 22, 7pm

I hope you’ll all join me.

New Novella Available

All episodes of Residual are now available. If you’ve not heard of episodic fiction, Residual is simply a mini novel that I release in parts on a weekly basis. As of right now, the full story has been published. For the cost of a coffee, you can subscribe and read Residual...among other perks. Monthly subscriptions are very flexible.

Mindful Moments

Ever wake up anxious, frazzled, or feeling like your brain is an internet browser with 20 tabs open? Ever been utterly exhausted at the end of the day, but when you hit your bed your mind just won't settle down? Tired of doomscrolling? Journaling. Journaling is one of my favorite self-care tools….and it doesn't have to break the bank. (That being said - I'm a stationery weirdo so I like the quality products.) In any case journaling doesn't have to be a dear diary, I feel sad kind of a thing.

Journaling can look like saving movie ticket stubs, play bills, or printing out photos from the first time you went axe throwing. Journaling can look like wellness tracking - steps, sleep, stomach pain, etc - with graphs and charts. It can serve as a brain dump of all the things you want to do that day or week, and beyond. A journal could be a tiny photo album that you use to store flowers and leaves you find on a hike.

The thing to remember is journaling should make you feel good…or, at least better. Happy to walk you through it, and join you on your journal journey. Drop me a line.

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for subscribing. xo

Carla took as crazy a route as she could back to her cabin, then rushed to the bathroom. She had one letter left. It wasn’t her favorite decision, but if that reporter had …

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	Carla felt weird sleeping without Evan. She laid there tossing and turning until finally she clicked open Facebook. She scrolled mindlessly. A post from Junie popped up – it was a selfie of him on a hike with the caption, “the only things that calms my mind.” There was an ache in her belly, but she knew she’d made the right choice. Evan felt too much like home. She hated to admit she’d never quite felt like this with Marcos. Carla clicked on Junie’s profile, her finger hovering over the unfriend button. 	
	That’s when she saw it. 
	Junie still had their relationship status listed as together. She’d been living in a bubble with Evan the past few days and had forgotten to change her own status. It felt arbitrary, and at the same time like she was giving him hope for a reunion. She quickly changed her status to single. She laughed at how silly yet final it felt. 

	The next morning, Carla exchanged texts with Evan as she got ready for work. She took a deep breath, then locked the front door behind her. She’d loved waking to the quiet forest outside but felt a different kind of comfort in seeing people, homes, and the morning traffic of commuters at her Kingston house. 
	Carla made it to work without thinking of James or the events of the past few weeks, but as she pulled into the parking lot of the plaza, a gold car crept around the back of a building on the far side of the lot. She inhaled sharply, then yelled, “Fuck this,” and stomped on the gas. Carla tried to catch up to the gold car. She just missed it as it disappeared around another corner. The street had too many outlets. 
	Carla had managed to get Evan’s voicemail during the failed chase. “I don’t want you to worry or come, I just wanted to let you know the gold car is back. I have the gun you gave me. If the bastard tries anything, it’ll be the last thing he does.”
	Carla went back to her studio in a rage. For two years, she was afraid, racked with guilt, and unable to fully live. She was over it. As she pushed through the door, she’d almost stepped on it. There, on the floor just inside the door, was a folded sheet of paper. Hand on the gun in her purse, Carla frantically looked around. Nothing was askew. She locked the door and picked up the paper. 
	IT’S NOT ME IN THE GOLD CAR. 
	Unfortunately, Carla recognized the handwriting. She jumped and yelped when her phone rang. 
	“I’m okay,” she said into her phone. 
	“But…” Evan replied, but Carla cut him off. 
	“James was here. Not in the gold car,” Carla added, then explained about the note. 
	“You believe him? I mean he could have been coming around the building after dropping the note.”
	“I think I do.” 
	“Carla. How does he know where you work? And about the gold car?” Evan asked. 

	“The gold car is back. I went in this morning, and I saw it creeping around the back of the strip.”
	“What time was this?” the detective asked. 
	“Around 7:30am. Why?”
	“One second. Yeah, James was with his parole officer at that time.”
	It should have been a relief, but Carla’s eyes welled up with tears. 
	“Ms. Colon? You still there?”
	Carla’s phone dinged. It was a text message from Junie – I guess it’s official now. Don’t call me for protection now that GI Joe is gone. 
	The hair on Carla’s arms stood up. 
	“I’m…I’m here. Detective, can you look into Juan Ortegi?”

Episode 16 – You’re on Camera

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        “Dihah, he’s out,” Carla cried into the phone. 
        “Who? James? You sure? You okay? Where are you?,” Dihah said, her voice cracking. 
        A freaking reporter just ambushed me at my gym, spouting freaking bullshit. She actually suggested we had some grand plan to run off together! I just got my life back on track. Dihah, I can’t do this,” Carla yelled into her phone. She was in her car.

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Episode 5 – Junie

“I just had the best date!” Carla blurted out when she answered Evan’s call, then rolled over.

“So, that’s why you look like that. Damn. That man is lucky,” Evan said, his eyes were puffy and red.

“I do what I can. Are you okay?”

“Just a little tear gas. It’s been a long day, but I needed to see you.”

Carla looked at herself on the screen, the low cut of her dress. She thought of Junie’s first words to her and blushed.

“Don’t blush on my account. Just telling the truth.”

Carla resisted the urge to say something slick. Engaged.

“Would your fiancé approve of all these truths?” Carla said smiling.

Evan didn’t reply, but instead just stared back at her, seemingly taking all of her in. It felt like forever. Carla stopped smiling and bit her lip.

“Don’t,” she said. Engaged. Engaged. Engaged.

“Don’t what? Evan asked, then licked his lips, and added, “I can’t help it.”

Warmth spread through her body.

“More truths,” was all she could say.

Carla awoke to a dark room and phone. When she clicked on her screen, there were two messages – one from Junie and one from Evan. She bit her lip and opened Evan’s first. It was a screenshot of their call; she was knocked out, in her 10^th dream, no doubt. She slapped an open palm into her forehead and laughed. Carla checked, but Evan wasn’t online so she opened Junie’s message.

Hope this isn’t too much, but I’m thinking of you this morning. Good morning, beautiful.

Carla fought back the urge to squeal and instead smiled and closed her eyes. She tried to conjure up Junie’s beautiful face, but it was Evan’s that she saw. The way he looked at her. Her eyes flew open. Carla opened the camera app in her phone, fixed her hair, pulled the covers up over her outfit from last night, and snapped a photo. She added the caption – I definitely will now – and sent it off. A few moments later he replied.

By the end of the day, they’d set their date for the upcoming weekend. Daydreams of their first kiss ensued. What I wouldn’t give? Carla was lonely. Her phone buzzed, but it wasn’t Junie as she’d hoped. Still, she was glad to have another friend. Her life was beginning to feel full again.

Evan’s message read - I have my date. I’ll be stateside in one month. Plz say you’ll see me.

Carla positioned herself in downward facing dog, then snapped a selfie and sent it to Evan and Junie. Then she sent an accompanying text to the former – I could never say no to that. Who knows? Maybe we’ll both have significant others to bring. Bubbles popped up then faded over and over, and Carla hoped he’d get back to her before her next class started. Finally, a message popped through – it was a voice note. Carla looked over her shoulder; no one yet. She pressed play.

“How about a double date later. I just need it to be us the first time. There’s so much I want to tell you. And…I need to take all of you in without the worried eyes of my fiancé or the jealous ones of your guy. I want to hug you like I haven’t seen you in person in ten years. Can you promise me that if they’re there?”

Beads of sweat gathered on the back of her neck. For as long as she could remember, she yearned to be needed like that. She never had that passion with Marcos. You don’t have it with Evan either. She shuffled through the library of therapy sessions in her head. Available men. Love yourself enough to give yourself a fighting chance. Don’t conflate loneliness and lust for love. Carla took several deep breaths. Footsteps sounded behind her. Chatting filled the room as her class filed in.

Carla spent the rest of class trying not to see Evan’s face when she closed her eyes. Close to the end of class, she’d finally managed to clear her mind. She showered, changed, and was headed out when she heard giggling in the lobby.

“I’m so happy to know the front desk of my gym is so much fun,” Carla said playfully as she approached the desk.

“They’re for you,” Ginger said.

Carla perked up. “You’re kidding,” she said as she plucked the card from the bouquet. The card read - Can’t wait for Friday. XO, Junie.

Carla and Ginger squealed in unison.

“I’m really glad you’re getting back out there,” Ginger said, then added, “now, spill the det’s.”

Carla showed Ginger Junie’s photos on the app, then spent 20 minutes telling Ginger every detail of their first date.

“Hot damn! And he’s already sending flowers.”

“I know, right? Oh crap. Is that the right time? Carla said and ran out to her car.

***

Carla wasn’t sure who was avoiding who, but she hadn’t spoken to Evan the rest of the week. She was glad to focus on Junie and their upcoming date, but as Carla got ready, it occurred to her that Evan might be embarrassed by his voice note. She decided to send one back. Carla agonized over the right words for too long. She had to meet Junie soon. Finally, she pressed record –

“Not sure why we haven’t talked all week, but I miss you. Your last message had me spinning for the rest of my classes. What if things…escalate? You have a fiancé. We’re ships in life, remember? I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t be alone together. There’s so much you don’t know about my past, and long story short – it doesn’t end well if we did something we’ll both regret.”

Carla hurriedly pressed send. She spent the rest of her time getting ready fighting off the idea that she wished it was Evan she was meeting. She also kept checking her phone for a response.

Carla spotted Junie as he walked toward the front of Chacko’s Bowling Alley. That man looks good in any damn thing. As if he could hear her thoughts, he turned and squinted in her direction. Carla waved and he smiled. Junie rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her. When he pulled away, he didn’t let her go. Carla looked down to hide her blush. Junie put his finger under her chin and lifted her head. He pushed a curl out of her face. His eyes drifted to her lips; she bit them.

Junie leaned forward then stopped, but Carla met his mouth with hers. His lips were soft and warm, and when he gently slipped his tongue into her mouth, her knees buckled. His grip tightened; Carla felt like she was melting. He caressed her tongue with his and just when she was about to lose her breath, he pulled away.

“I counted the seconds ‘til this moment,” he whispered.

A few hours into their date, Carla’s intrusive thoughts started.

“Penny for them? Sorry, that was weird. I always wanted to say that,” Junie said, chuckling.

“After that kiss, you can say almost anything you want. But I apologize, just trying to convince myself you’re not too good to be true. I’ve been through a lot these past few years,” Carla caught herself at the end.

“I mean – same – but I decided eff it. There’s a million things that could go wrong, but no risk means I could never experience all the things that could go right. Just be honest with me and we’ll be fine.”

Carla smiled nervously. Is it too early or too late to mention my lover killed my husband in a jealous rage?

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Thank you so much everyone for your continued support! Welcome to anyone new here. Drop me a line. Love chatting with you all.

The Decorum Book Tour So Far…

Chatted up with some local folks at the Hazleton Art League. We had a great time at Misericordia University! The students and faculty were awesome and had such great questions. Thank you Rebecca Steinberger, PhD. The Decorum Book Celebration at Gather Community Space on Sunday was beautiful. A huge thank you to everyone that came out. We had a reading, some fun activities, cake, and more….we’re not done yet.

We have two more stops this month - Saturday, April 18, I’ll be at Hazleton Library’s Local Author Fair, and Sunday, April 19, I’ll be at Abide Coffeehouse in Wilkes-Barre. Stop down if you’d like to purchase a copy of Decorum, get your book signed, and chat with me. :)

In case you didn’t know, Decorum, is a mystery/drama that has the intrigue of a whodunnit layered with family legacy, drama, and dangerous family secrets. That’s what sets it apart from other mysteries. The family dynamics are as central to the plot as the mystery.

If you’d like to check it out, here is the place to look - https://www.nicolesnegron.com/about-6. (Buying from the publisher directly gets you the best price, and helps a great deal.)

Also, don’t forget to recommend Decorum for book clubs near you….and I’d love to visit your book club. Book me here. (Local inquiries only please.)

New Release

For everyone that loved, Other Half, I recently dropped book two in the series -Residual. (They also work as standalone stories.) Residual has the spice of book one, but reads much more like a suspense novel. Here’s a little about book 2 -

Two years after a torrid affair ended in disaster, Carla is still looking over her shoulder, missing all the friends who cut her off, and receiving letters from the man she pushed to the brink. As Carla tries to do the right thing, her progress is threatened and she has a sinking feeling she’s being followed. Is it a reporter trying to add juice to Carla’s past discretions, paranoia, or a friend she doesn’t know she needs? Residual is a tale of redemption, rekindling, and revenge.

Important note: While Other Half (book one) is free, Residuals (book two) will require a paid subscription - only $5. I did provide a free sampling of the novella - episodes 1 - 4, and a preview of episode 5. I hope you’ll support my writing if Residuals is something that catches your eye.

Mindful Moment

This month I’m filled with gratitude for my husband and family, for all my friends (and new acquaintances) that have rallied behind me on my writing career. (Shout out to my sister, Bre, for spending countless hours trying to get her printer to comply so I could have custom word searches for my party.) I’m slowly, but surely building up my readership, and it’s hard work but so much fun. I hoped the tour would provide a time to connect with you all in person, but I know that’s harder. So, follow me everywhere (Nicole Negron, Author on Facebook and on Instagram at nicoleeverwriting) and drop me a line. Who are your favorite characters? Fave plot twists? Is there a type of story you’d like to see from me next? Have you started journaling or another self-care habit recently? I’d love to hear about that, too. (Connecting with you all is the main reason I use social media…no, seriously.)

Anywho, I hope to see/meet y’all on the trail.

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for reading my Writer’s Life newsletter. xo

The cold stung Carla’s skin where his blood had soaked into her clothes. She crashed through the woods as fast as her tired legs could carry her.

“Carla!” His voice roared and echoed on the trees.

She knew these woods better than anyone but hadn’t had time to think. The howl of the wind, every snap underfoot sent a flash of his face through her mind. His mouth was open wide, the handle of the knife jutting out from his belly. Lost in the memory, her foot caught on a root, and the ground seemed to tip toward her. She smashed into it with such force that her good palm burst open.

Carla swallowed back the scream. The silence that followed scared her more than any threats. The silence could mean distance or stealth. She scanned the space around her. Spotting a large hollowed out tree, she army crawled inside.

“Carla. Carino. It’s me. I’m not judging you,” he said just above a whisper.

Carla pressed her bloody palm into her mouth; sweat dripped into her eyes as she stifled the sound of her breaths.

“Carla,” he yelled.

There was the sound of shuffling feet then someone’s body came smashing through the rotting wood next to her head.

Episode 2: Carla

3 Months Earlier

Carla couldn’t get out of her car. She still owned the house her and Marcos shared in Kingston, Pennsylvania, and went there once a week to pick up mail. Still, it didn’t get easier. Memories of the police tape, of Marcos’s body being carried out in that black bag assaulted her senses…and her dreams. She couldn’t let the house go. It had been two years since a torrid affair claimed the life of her other half, and the story was surely old news by now. Carla scanned the streets for the vultures nonetheless. The shit storm had driven her from their home, gotten her fired, and made her a pariah.

Once she’d summoned the courage, Carla swiftly exited her car and grabbed the handful of mail. She shuffled through it, pushing the spam and other unwanted back under the door. Only one envelope made it’s way back to ger car. A letter from the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections. From James. All of the good memories of him were replaced by one – him in cuffs.

When Carla arrived at her cabin in Back Mountain, she scanned the woods. Nothing. She struggled to bring all of her groceries inside in one trip and was finally situated when she pulled out James’s letter. He’d sent one every month since he was convicted for involuntary manslaughter. She had mixed feelings about how good his lawyer was – he’d made Carla out to be a such a villain that by the time the jury had voted, they’d pitied James. Carla tapped the thick envelope in her palm.

She had successfully managed to avoid his letters for the first year, letting them stockpile on the counter. It didn’t feel right to read them in the very place where James killed her husband. When she moved out, the letters had followed her to the cabin – though she didn’t remember packing them. At the one-year mark of James’s incarceration, the media, her friends, Marcos’s family were all still vilifying her, so she drunkenly read them all on her cabin floor.

It was a mistake. Plagued with sex dreams of James that turned into nightmares, she’d spent a month barely sleeping. When she lost yet another job, she took herself to therapy.

“I’m in a better place now,” she told herself. Carla had refrained from any real interaction with the opposite sex, opting instead to work on herself, but now she was lonely.

A part of her thought she could read what she assumed would be loving words and pretend they were from someone else. She’d managed only to get the envelope unsealed before hesitating. Then her phone dinged.

Episode 3: Evan

“That’s a sign if there ever was one,” Carla said to herself. She unlocked her phone to see a friend request. “Evan freaking Rodriguez!” Carla squealed, and immediately pressed accept. As soon as she did a message popped through.

Hi. Bella. You look great. Love to catch up.

Carla felt butterflies in her belly. Her and Evan had only ever been friends, but he’d been an almost constant in her life since fourth grade. She tried to remember the last time they talked…and wondered if he knew about Marcos and James. The only plus side was that Evan was the one person that wouldn’t judge her. Carla needed a friend.

Omg! Call me! – Carla typed but mistakenly pressed send before sending her number.

Guess it’s been awhile. Currently deployed. I can’t call right now.

Carla deflated, and messaged back - what’s new? I thought you’d be out by now.

Almost. Didn’t really have a reason not to re-enlist until now. Anyway, what’s new with you?

Still hiding out after everything, haha. Yeah, in back mountain trying out cabin life. Finally, opened up my own studio. Yoga, I mean.

Hiding out? Oh crap, I have to go. Sorry. I’ll message you later. Promise. I miss you.

Before she could respond, Evan logged off. Carla quickly clicked on his profile. Only the main photo seemed to be up to date. It was a photo of a shirtless Evan in his fatigues and a headwrap. Carla recognized the monument behind him; he was stateside. The sight of sweat glistening off his sculpted chest and abs made Carla inhale sharply. You’re not little Evan anymore. Carla couldn’t reconcile with her body’s reaction. His new physique clashed with her memories of little Evan who annoyed her all through elementary, then again in high school when her family moved back to Jersey City. He was less annoying by the end of fifth grade, and they’d fallen back into their friendship as if no time at all had passed in high school. They were inseparable until Evan met “the crazy one,” and she isolated him from everyone, especially Carla. Unbeknownst to Evan, the crazy one had warned Carla to back off.

“You’re the only one that can’t see he’s been in love with you since 4^th grade,” is what the crazy one yelled at Carla when she refused to back off.

Carla wanted to tell her she had zero romantic interest in Evan, but realized that that might be the point. She was standing in the way of Evan having everything he deserved. So, Carla backed off. A few years later they reconnected when Carla found out what the crazy one had done. Her heart ached for him. She shook away the memory and kept scrolling. There wasn’t much and Carla fell asleep hoping desperately that Evan would message her again soon.

***

The next day Carla spent the entire morning refreshing and checking her messages. Nothing came through from Evan, and her heart ached for a friend. She thanked God for the one she had left. Dihah was the only one in their group who actually forgave her for everything with Marcos and James. Some of the others said they had, but they also didn’t return any of her calls or texts.

When she walked into Perkins, Dihah was already inside waiting. Carla breathed a sigh of relief. They hugged, then Dihah said, “Oh.”

“Not over it 100%, but I’m here biotch,” Ruth said from behind Carla.

Carla whipped around and embraced Ruth a little too tightly and too long. She was afraid she was dreaming.

“I’m really, really happy you’re here, Ruth,” Carla whispered as the host seated them.

“I missed you, too, Carla. I just needed time…and there are conditions,” Ruth said, then added, “but we can talk about that another time.”

“Whatever you want. So…do you guys remember Evan?” Carla asked, nervous now about how Ruth might react.

“Oh my God – Little Evan with the hair?” Dihah replied.

“We always thought you’d end up together,” Ruth added.

“Really?” Carla asked. Her brain couldn’t process Ruth’s statement.

“You really are a…how do you say it in Spanish again,” Dihah asked Ruth.

“Tonta. Loca. Simbe…” Ruth started to say when Carla gave her a look.

Ruth laughed and squeezed Carla’s shoulder. Then they all laughed. Carla felt like her old self in that moment, like everything was back to normal – though Cass was missing. That ship had sailed. Cass had told her in no uncertain terms that they were done.

“So, what’s up with him?” Dihah asked. She made a face as if she was about to say something else but stopped. Then, her eyes flicked in Ruth’s direction.

“Last I heard, he was in the Marines,” Ruth said, filling the awkward silence.

“Yeah. He, umm, messaged me last night. He’s still deployed though. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken. It’s funny because I thought of him just the other day. Anyway, take a look at little Evan now,” Carla added, clicking to his profile picture and showing them.

Ruth’s eyes widened.

Dihah whistled. “Well,” was all she said.

They all laughed again, and after considerable more cooing, changed the subject.

When Ruth excused herself to go to the bathroom, Carla quickly said, “I got another one,” then looked over Dihah’s shoulder.

“You’re kidding?! Did you read it?”

“No. Honestly, I thought about it, but then got a message from Evan.”

“Saved by lil’ Evan,” Dihah said, chuckling.

“Quit calling him that. He’s a grown ass man.”

“Still short, though.”

The three women embraced, then went their separate ways. Carla felt like crying as they pulled away. Just as she lifted her phone to send a thank you text, a message from Evan popped through.

Thinking of you. Wil try to message you later.

Carla’s face flushed. She touched her cheek and shook her head. She typed out – can’t wait – but didn’t press send. Teaching three yoga classes after lunch helped clear her mind, but the thought of going back to her empty cabin made her eyes well up with tears. She scarfed down a sandwich on the way home and climbed into bed as soon as she got there. She laid there fidgeting with her comforter. Her skin itched, and when she had adjusted the covering for the third time, she kicked her legs in frantic scissor motions, covered her face with a pillow, and screamed into it.

“Okay. You’re done,” she told herself, then reached into the nightstand for her favorite friend these days. Carla closed her eyes and tried to picture Marcos. As she slid the tool between her legs, she moaned, but when she opened her eyes, it was James on top of her. Carla knew it was wrong but let the fantasy play out. She missed him…and it was the best sex she ever had. When she finished, the edge was gone, but her mind wandered to Evan. She’d missed his call.

The sporadic messages continued for four days. Carla waffled between wanting to ignore him altogether and touching herself at night while looking at his picture. The fantasies of her exes no longer worked. Just when Carla thought she was going to lose it, a call from a weird number buzzed through her phone.

“Hello?” Carla answered wearily. After almost two years of harassment, she had to know if her story had caught the attention of the media vultures again. She held her breath.

“Bella? It’s Evan. Can you hear me?”

“Evan!” Carla squealed.

“I feel like a shithead for the phone tag, but I think I have the best excuse right?” Evan said laughing.

“I can’t talk long, but tell me everything,” he added.

“Evan, I missed you.”

“No, you didn’t. Stop it.”

“Really, I did. It’s been too long since we talked.” Carla added.

Evan laughed.

“Anyway, nothing new really. My…my husband died a few years ago and I’ve just been trying to take care of myself,” Carla said. She didn’t know if Evan knew the whole truth, but for now, Carla needed the delusion of being a normal widow…and she needed this moment.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. I’ve just worked my ass off and enjoying life as best I can after everything that happened with you know who. But I actually missed you. I couldn’t sleep the other night, and it made me think of all the nights we chased the sun. By the way, do you know how hard it was to find you on social media? Sheesh! I felt like I was in the CIA. It got a little weird, haha.”

“You just can’t live without me, huh? It’s okay – I’ve been known to have that effect on people. How did you find me, by the way?” Carla asked. She got up from the bed, checked the thermostat, then stripped off her pajamas before climbing back into bed.

“I mean all that matters is that I found you, right? I told you – I always will.”

“That doesn’t sound creepy at all,” Carla said with a chuckle.

“Dang, already forgot our inside jokes. Some best friend you are. What are you doing right now?”

“Just taking off my clothes. It’s really hot in here,” Carla said, running her fingers over her throat. She exhaled loudly.

“Mmm. Don’t do that,” Evan replied.

“Do what?” She replied, wishing Evan could see her mischievous smile.

“You’re smiling aren’t you? All jokes aside, that’s what I miss most. Your smile always felt like…home,” he said, whispering the last word.

There it goes again, Carla thought, feeling a flutter in her belly. Now she was glad he couldn’t see her face.

“Carla.”

“Yes?”

“I have to go. I…have to call my fiancé.”

Episode 4: The Edge

“I’m such an idiot! Yes, Carla, because you guys were going to reconnect after how many years and what, fall in love?! You were only ever friends to begin with!” Carla yelled at herself.

After screaming into her pillow for a full minute, Carla opened the Love Local app in her phone. Dihah had pushed her the last few months to try the new dating app, and she was done letting her past control her present.

“Less pining, more flirting with new people.”

Now that you’ve worked on yourself, it’s time to seek out the available men out there. Her therapist’s words were on repeat for the last month.

“Yeah, and none of them would touch me with a ten-foot pole,” Carla said.

Starting to date again would be difficult – all they had to do was Google her – but after two years, Carla knew she had to try. She clicked away on her phone before she could change her mind, then pressed create.

Having an admin day at work was a blessing and a curse. It meant no yoga to clear her mind, but plenty of time to respond to all the messages she was receiving on the dating app. She’d almost lost it when the third guy asked if she was “the chick that her husband killed.” The idiot had managed to get a second message through before she could block him. He wrote – Don’t worry. I’m not afraid of a little danger.

When her phone dinged again, she was afraid to look. Through squinted eyes, she saw it was a message from Evan. She squeezed her hands into a fist, then opened the message.

Sorry I had to jump off last night. I haven’t been able to reach my fiancé for the past few days, and she was finally online so I had to call.

Carla quickly typed back –

OMG. You don’t have to explain. No biggie, though I don’t know how anyone could leave you hanging.

Carla regretted sending the last part. “Flirting with an engaged guy. Great job.”

I knew you’d understand. She’s the reason I’m not reenlisting. We’re getting married and she doesn’t do well when I’m away. Anyway, I definitely want to see you when I get back. Not going to let anyone get between us. And the only thing my fiancé is jealous of is the Marines, lol. Have you dated anyone since your husband died? You never said how, by the way. You didn’t kill him did you?

Had anyone else said that Carla would have lost it, but she was just grateful for his ignorance. Carla typed back -

Someone else did, but I don’t really want to talk about it. When are you due stateside because I literally cannot wait to see you.

Evan replied – I would give anything to hug you right now…and see that beautiful smile of yours.

Carla’s heart raced; she tried to shake it off, when another message blipped through –

Ships in life, huh. You’ll always be just out of my reach.

Carla teared up as she typed – Least you’ll always find me. I gotta go Evan.

She forced the tears back and clicked through her matches.

Carla managed not to re-read Evan’s messages from two days ago, but the words scrolled through her mind. Even as she got ready for her first date in almost two years, she couldn’t stop wishing it was him she was going to meet. Carla examined herself in the long mirror. The red dress came down to her knees, but it was so tight she may as well have been naked. She’d decided to rock the afro but now wasn’t sure.

A vision of Marcos appeared behind her. “You’re hiding the best part,” the memory whispered. Then she couldn’t feel his finger trailing the side of her neck, and his lips as she lifted her hair into a pineapple. When she closed her eyes, James’s face appeared, then turned into Evan’s. She felt a twinge between her legs and opened her eyes.

“Junie. You’re going out with Junie tonight,” she told herself.

Carla gave herself the once over, then pushed through the door of the restaurant. She scanned the people in the waiting area until her eyes landed on a tall man in grey, fitted chinos and a white button up shirt. The pants accentuated his muscular thighs. And a great ass.

Carla exhaled, then breathed in sharply when he turned. She wasn’t sure if his perfect teeth or the bulge in his pants made her more excited. He moved toward her, his eyes locked in.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in real life. ¡Dios mio!” he said, then lifted her hand between both his.

And just like that, the memories of the others evaporated.

No one else crossed her mind for the rest of the night. The date was perfect and ended with a tight embrace and a kiss on the cheek. Carla fought the urge to invite him back to her place. Don’t mess this up, Carla, she thought as she walked to her car. She turned back, hoping he had too, but he was looking at his phone. Carla sighed and turned around. Then, Junie turned back and watched her go to her car.

Carla’s phone dinged. It was a photo message from Junie. She held her breath. The message was a photo of a bowling alley with the caption – our next date, just let me know when. Carla squealed and slapped her thighs in a drum roll. When she got back to her cabin, she fell onto her bed, clothes, shoes, and all. She could barely catch her breath or stop smiling. Carla called up a mental image of Junie, the moments when she first laid eyes on him, when he turned and smiled in her direction, were seared into her memory.

“Please God, let me have him. Lo prometo. I will not mess this one up,” she said to herself.

Then, her phone vibrated – Evan was video calling.

To be continued…

Thanks for sharing this space with me. I appreciate you. Episodes drop each week. While there will be a preview of Episode 5, these are the last free episodes of this novella. Writing is a labor of love, but a labor nonetheless, and I hope you’ll consider subscribing to finish Residual (along with other great perks). Subscriptions start as low as $5, and this novella is included in the lowest paid subscription.

If you’re enjoying the story so far, don’t forget to:

~Come back for Episodes 5-7 on April 15 (and more every Wednesday).

~Share and restack current episodes. (Sharing is caring.)

~ Drop me a comment or question - I love chatting with readers.

Thank you so much everyone for your continued support! Welcome to anyone new here. Drop me a line. Love chatting with you all.

The Book is Out

Decorum is out, and I have my first review - 5 stars!

It’s exciting to put so much work and love into something and see it to fruition. In case you didn’t know, Decorum, is a mystery/drama that has the fun and intrigue of a whodunnit layered with family legacy, drama, and dangerous family secrets. That’s what sets it apart from other mysteries. The family dynamics are as central to the plot as the mystery.

If you’d like to check it out, here is the place to look - https://www.nicolesnegron.com/about-6. (Buying from the publisher directly gets you the best price, and helps a great deal.)

Also, don’t forget to recommend Decorum for book clubs near you….and I’d love to visit your book club. Book me here. (Local inquiries only please.)

Follow me on Facebook - Nicole Negron, Author - and Instagram at nicoleeverwriting to stay up-to-date on the upcoming fun.

The Book Tour

I am having a book tour for Decorum and I hope you’ll all join (and bring a friend). For now, I will be at various locations across NEPA. There was a Jersey City location, but I am waiting to hear back from the venue as they needed to change the date. In any case, there will be readings, signings, and a party! Woohoo!

I’d love to see everyone at my celebration, especially, on April 12. If you’ve received the invite on Facebook for the celebration, please RSVP as soon as you can. If not, SAVE THE DATE. You won’t want to miss out.

Mindful Moment

Right now, my mindful moments involve a lot of reading. This is especially so because I’m ready to write the next book. I have a couple of shorter projects, too, but for the next novel I’m torn. Do I focus on the cozy(ish) mystery that’s more aligned with Decorum, or do I write book one of my Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants-meets-Practical Magic - meets Isabel Allende series?…..My brain is too full. So, I’m giving myself permission to take a break for my favorite pasttime - outside of nature walks - reading. Current read: The Business Trip by Jessie Garcia. Loving it so far, and not what you would expect from the title.

Anywho, I hope to see/meet y’all on the trail.

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for reading my Writer’s Life newsletter. xo

A big thank you to everyone who has supported me and to new subscribers. I appreciate you!

The Book Release is Upon Us

Pre-order may be over, but we’re just getting started. Decorum releases this weekend - Saturday, February 14!!!! It’s about 2 years in the making and I couldn’t be more excited! Help make Decorum a best-seller. My novel is available now…and for a 20% discount through the publisher. Starting February 14, it will be available everywhere.

In case you can’t wait until Valentine’s Day, purchase through the publisher here: https://www.kinsmanquarterly.org/debut-author-nicole-negron.

We’re also geting closer to the book’s launch party and my book tour. I am still solidifying the location for the party, but book tour venues are underway. We’re looking at a few local bookstores and coffeehouses as well as my two alma maters - Misericordia University and Wilkes University. More details coming soon.

Lastly, Decorum makes a great addition to book club reading lists. Want a visit from the author - Book me here. (Local inquiries only please.)

Follow me on Facebook - Nicole Negron, Author - and Instagram at nicoleeverywriting to stay up-to-date on the upcoming fun.

Being an author is rewarding, but difficult. So, if mysteries just aren’t your thing right now, there are other ways to show support - follow me on social media, subscribe to my Substack, give a one-time contribution using my Buy Me a Coffee.

Mindful Moment

I love my planners, journals, and stationery. I recently decided to try a 6-ring binder for drafting one of my books. I typically use a traveler’s notebook - one notebook for notes, and another for drafting - but it wasn’ flexible enough. Plus, the clear 6-ring binder is just too beautiful not to use. What do y’all use for journaling, writing, goal setting, etc?

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for reading my Writer’s Life newsletter. xo

A big thank you to everyone who has supported me thus far…and a shout out to the folks that pre-ordered Decorum. I appreciate you!

We’re Getting Closer…

Help me reach 100 pre-orders. Pre-order your copy of Decorum soon to take advantage of the discount! (The pre-order window closes on January 31.) Decorum is a haunting debut about the weight of family legacies, the silence of generations, and the dangerous consequences of secrets left to fester.

Learn more and pre-order here: https://www.kinsmanquarterly.org/debut-author-nicole-negron.

We’re geting closer to the book’s launch, and you know what that means…book launch party! Book signing, a reading, fun giveaways, lite bites, and more! I hope you’ll all join me. More details coming soon.

Follow me on Facebook - Nicole Negron, Author - and Instagram at @nicoleeverywriting to stay up-to-date on the upcoming fun.

Mindful Moment

I am currently working on 2 books, planning for my book launch, reading Ask for Andrea, and mom’ing. Phew y’all! It’s a lot and I always feel like I’m dropping the ball on one thing or another. My planners keep me sane. I can’t recommend it enough. If you’re interested in giving it a try, reach out.

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for reading my Writer’s Life newsletter. xo

A big thank you to everyone who has supported me thus far…and a shout out to the folks that pre-ordered Decorum. I appreciate you!

What’s Coming…

My debut novel, Decorum, is available for pre-order! Sorry not sorry, I can’t say it enough. I am too excited! It’s slated for release in 2026, but pre-orders are a huge support. Decorum is a haunting debut about the weight of family legacies, the silence of generations, and the dangerous consequences of secrets left to fester. Learn more and pre-order here: https://www.kinsmanquarterly.org/debut-author-nicole-negron.

P.s. tomorrow is my birthday! You know what’ll make a great gif - pre-ordering my debut novel for yourself…and maybe a friend. (Sharing is caring right.)

SPOTLIGHT - Kinsman Quarterly

If y’all have not heard of or checked out all that Kinsman Quarterly (KQ) has to offer - you’re missing out! From writing workshops, and open houses with authors and editors to anthologies that celebrate creatives of color and free literary magazines for underserved youth, KQ has built the blueprint for art serves the community. Check them out - https://www.kinsmanquarterly.org/.

Of Pen and Paper…

I am always writing something y’all (even if it’s just in my journal). Book 2 of Other Half has taken off y’all. So, if you’re a fan of the spicy novella, then stay tuned for Project Residuals. If you haven’t read my free novella, Other Half…well, you’re missing out. Check it out here. I’d hoped to have Book 2 done done by last month, but creativity is like a faucet - you know those kinds with the push knobs that never stay on for the same amount of time.

Mindful Moment

I know for some this is usually a time when we get down on ourselves about what we didn’t accomplish, but let’s change that up. Now, I am not saying we shouldn’t take a close look at the goals we didn’t accomplish this year - especially if you’re still interested and/or need to make them a priority in 2026. Rather, I want us to examine the reasons we didn’t so that we can move forward. After a lot of trial and error, I’ve learned that one of the biggest hurdles is not starting where you are.

We’re making plans based on who we want to be rather than who we currently are. Try sitting down with a piece of paper and doing a (non-judgemental) self-assessment. For example, if the only time you have to exercise is the morning before work, but you’re a serial snoozer, why was your goal to go to gym at 5am every day? If you’re crawling out of bed at the last minute for a place you’re paid to be i.e. work, how do you think you’ll get out of bed earlier and brush your teeth and eat and get dressed and drive to a gym at 5am. I’m not talking junk here, I’m just being real with you. Totally set on working out in the am, make the first step putting your alarm clock too far away for you to snooze.

Motivation can be kind of like an avalanche. For me, that first sense of accomplishment (no matter how small) triggers me, makes me say, “well, I did that step, I may as well do the next.” The main point here - even the most “unrealistic” goals can be achievable with a good plan, and a good plan starts with who you currently are.

So, if you’re looking for a sign - HERE IT IS. Let’s get this party started.

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for reading my Writer’s Life newsletter. xo

A big thank you to everyone who has supported me thus far. I appreciate you!

What’s New

My debut novel, Decorum, is available for pre-order! Sorry not sorry, I can’t say it enough. I am too excited! It’s slated for release in 2026, but pre-orders are a huge support. Decorum is a haunting debut about the weight of family legacies, the silence of generations, and the dangerous consequences of secrets left to fester. Learn more and pre-order here: https://www.kinsmanquarterly.org/debut-author-nicole-negron.

I also have two speaking engagements lined up!…one at each of my alma maters.

SPOTLIGHT - Calling all writers!

Budding and aspiring writers, don’t miss out on the Kinsman Avenue’s Virtual Open House tonight at 7pm. You’ve written something, edited it (hopefully), but now what? Hear from Indie authors (a.k.a. self-published), traditionally published, and hybrid-published authors about the various routes to publication. Don’t miss out on this free event. You don’t want to miss out on this free program. Learn more & register here: https://www.kinsmanquarterly.org/events.

In the Meantime…

While I not so patiently await a few more details on Decorum, I am still writing. I am working on two long-form projects - alternating when I get stuck with one or the other. For all the Unrequited fans, I’m working on a prequel that will not disappoint. We’ll call it Project Winter. IYKYK. (I can’t give out more unfortunately without ruining the story for folks who haven’t checked out my free novella, Unrequited.) For Other Half fans, part 2 is in the works. What?! Yes, yes, I thought I was done with it, too, but Carla needs another try. (And if you didn’t love the idea of deciding which of her guys you-know-what, then check out part 2.) We’ll call that one Project Residuals.

Mindful Moment

Let’s chat about real life and thinking positive. I am not good at it - the thinking positive part. Part of it has to do with my depression, but the other part has been life in general. You ever feel like for every good thing that happens in your life, five bad things do, too. I’ve tried so hard not to look at my life that way, though there have been what’s felt like relentless seasons of misery. The problem is toxic positivity and this idea that one is just supposed to “be grateful” all the time.

I am absolutely grateful for my children and husband, my family, my job, etc, but it doesn't make all the bad stuff go away. What I've found is that I can’t frame it as positive versus negative - that doesn't work for me. I’ve had to reframe it on a day-to-day, case-by-case basis. If I have a day full of love and family time, or I’ve been perticularly productive, I count that as a good day. AND - I’ll document it in my journal so that when I’m not having the best day, I can look back at it. My journals, and planners - they’re the easy, saving grace. It’s easier to look at my children, and the photos and words on the pages and be reminded of all there is to be happy about in my life, then try to pull from some abstract sense of gratitude.

If you’ve never journaled, I highly recommend it. It doesn’t have to be the dear diary kind. It can be a bunch of sticky notes, a dollar store notebook, or something indulgent this -

If you do give it a try, please do share with me.

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for reading my Writer’s Life newsletter. xo

What’s New

Y’all have stuck with me, read my stories, endured a hiatus or two, and I couldn’t thank you more. And more than just saying it, I wanted to show it by giving you the first peak at the cover for my upcoming novel, Decorum.

Just kidding, haha! Here it is!

Decorum is available for pre-order soon and I couldn’t be more excited! Here is a little bit about the book -

In a family built on tradition, Solei thought her formidable mother set the example. Then a scandalous letter surfaces and secrets begin to unravel, exposing fractures in their Peruvian household. What starts as a simple, yet damning discovery spirals into a mystery that forces Solei to question how far those closest to her will go to keep appearances intact.

When a body is found, suspicion mounts and the lines between love and betrayal blur, Solei must decide how much she’s willing to risk to protect the people she loves - before the truth consumes them all.

Decorum is a haunting debut about the weight of family legacies, the silence of generations, and the dangerous consequences of secrets left to fester.

_____________

Now of course there will be a proper book launch, signings, etc, but it all starts with the pre-order. That is where your support makes the biggest impact. I’ll send more details soon so be sure to stay connected with me here and on my other social media accounts.

In Other (Good) News

We’ve wrapped up my story, “Unrequited.” (That’s right - there’s other good reads right here on Substack for you all.) Now while the end of “Unrequited” is bittersweet, it also means we can chat about it without worrying about spoilers. If you didn’t know, subscribers have access to book chats - kind of like an informal book club - where we can dish about your favorite and least favorite characters, you can ask the author questions, and more. (And…if you have read “Unrequited,” you’ll be happy to know that a certain character might get a prequel.)

Mindful Moment

This month’s newsletter will be short and sweet as I prepare for pre-order and all the fun of a book release, but I wanted to remind you all that life is worth celebrating - even the small wins. Some goals are bigger than others, but they all take work. So, even if no one else sees you, or your little wins along the way, be sure to celebrate yourself. Treat yourself….to progress presents, to something major when you’ve reached the goal, and to starting.

As always, if you’re looking for a sign -

Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for reading my Writer’s Life newsletter. xo

	Wes stood in front of his mementos. The crimson and gold room was dimly lit with long, velvet curtains. The five boxes remained on their pedestals but were unceremoniously shut. He couldn’t stand to look at their contents with such bad thoughts running through his mind. Wes slowly circled the boxes, running his fingers along their tops. 
	“Shelby, Taylor, Emilee, Jane,” Wes whispered, stopping short of the box with Grace’s first letter. His fingers trembled as they hovered over hers. 
	“Ladies. We’ve had our time, but I live for Grace now. Once I find her, we,” he said, pointing to the four others, “must part.” 
	“It’s true. She’s the one. I thought it was you, Jane, because of the fountain pen. The way you wrote my name. I swore I’d stop at you, but a letter,” Wes said, exhaling slowly. 
	“A letter is the culmination of you all. And Grace…God, even her name. Grace held on to me the longest. She never threw me away even when she made the mistake of trading nuptials with him. In any case…I’m not throwing you away. I could never, but for Grace, I have to be Wes. You are Winter’s women now, but I have to be Wes now.” 
	With that, Wes gingerly lifted Grace’s box off of the high top table, and left the room. After placing, the box down on his main desk, he pushed the wall shut, hiding the inner space. 

Chapter 29

        Charlie looked at Salvador’s text message again. 
	Charlie, we really need to talk. I think that pen pal is setting me 
up. I hate to say it – but I think he hurt Grace. I swear I didn’t beat 
him up. Plz just meet with me – I’ll meet anywhere you feel 
comfortable. 
        Charlie didn’t want to believe that Salvador could hurt Grace, but his recent outbursts, beating up Wes. He’d read his text over and over all morning but still couldn’t decide. His office clock read 12:47pm. He grabbed his phone and wallet and headed out. “Be back in 15,” he said over his shoulder to the barista. 
	It was chilly and gloomy out – just the way Charlie liked. His eyes flicked to each corner, a ball forming in his belly. Salvador was sitting in his car a few hundred feet from the entrance of the café. Charlie couldn’t move, even as Salvador got out of his car and moved toward him. He quickly typed a text to Wes – Salvador is here. Salvador closed the gap between them quickly, putting his hands up in mock surrender as he got closer. 
	“Charlie. I’m sorry to just show up like this, hombre. I’m just…running out of time. And I’m scared Grace is, too. Please. Can we just talk for a second, right here? Plenty of people around.”
	Charlie turned to look inside. The café was full of people, and the barista was craning her neck and squinting at him. He quickly glanced at his phone, then, moved one of the tables closer to the door and gestured for Salvador to sit. 
	“Okay, look. Look at my hands. If I beat that man up, why aren’t my knuckles bruised or anything? Would he not have fought back? You don’t even know this guy, Charlie. And I saw his letters. He was low key obsessed with Grace.”
	“So, what, Salvador?...the man beat himself up? I saw his bruises with my own eyes.”
	“I don’t know. Maybe. I just know I didn’t hurt Grace, but somehow all this evidence just keeps piling and piling against me. Now, this stranger has infiltrated our lives and lied about me beating him up.” 
	“Yeah, and what of that evidence…money to Cherry? An affair, I assume. The email from Grace.”
	“Charlie, I’m no evil mastermind, but I think I have more sense than to use emails… I mean, c’mon. That’s so traceable, and you told Jared yourself – the guy works in IT.”
	Charlie chewed the inside of his lip. 
	“You didn’t even know Grace was missing. No one did. Why would he come to me, call attention to it?” Charlie said.
	“Wait. He’s why you went to the police?” Salvador said, his voice rising. He squeezed his lips together. 
	“It is unlike Grace. She quit via email, blew up her marriage via email. Grace didn’t even like emailing her clients,” Charlies said more to himself. 
	Salvador’s eyebrows screwed together, and he shot out of his seat. 
	Charlie turned around to see Wes making quick strides toward them. He hurriedly mouthed the words, I believe you.
	“Seriously, I’m calling the police. Haven’t you done enough to this poor man,” Wes said. His eyes were dark, and Charlie felt like a gazelle caught between lions. 
	“It’s okay. Salvador was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Charlie said with mock disdain. 
	“Yeaup,” Salvador said and walked briskly back to his car. 
	“You okay, Charlie?” 
	“Yes. I’m okay. You didn’t have to come all the way down here,” Charlie said, his eyes shifting. 
	“It’s okay. It was actually good timing you texted. I’m…going out of town for a few days…for work. This whole thing has me shook up. Times like these I like to bury myself in work. You were right. It’s time we let the police do their jobs, and we stop playing detective,” Wes said, scooping Charlie’s hand in his. He placed his other hand on top and gave Charlie a warm smile, and a wince. 
	“Wish I could get away, too. Going far?”
	“Aww, will you miss me, Charlie?” Wes said, chuckling. 
	Charlie half-smiled. 
	“Not far. I’ll be stateside. Just…promise me you’ll call the police if he shows up here again.” 
	Charlie smiled again and nodded. 
	Wes gave him a hug, then walked away.
	
	
	“Guess whose DNA is on the boxers and toothbrush?” Detective Wallace said to his partner. 
	“Not the husband.”
	“Yeah. Did we let this man out just in time to kill his wife’s friend?” Detective Wallace asked, his eyes pleading. 
	“An affair does not equal murder. If anything, I would have thought the guy would skip town. He has the money.”
	“I just can’t get a read on him…and how many other women is he involved with? He jokes with one mistress about killing his wife and is close enough with his wife’s friend to have a toothbrush there? Somehow, I think the text messages have to be relevant.” Detective Wallace said more to himself. 
	“It doesn’t really make sense though, does it? You gotta figure the husband knew we’d have access to Lynch’s records same as his so what would be the purpose of deleting the texts?” his partner mused. 
	“You’re right. Hmm. Now, does that warrant include content stored on a cloud or server? I can see repeated calls and text messages to a phone number here that isn’t Salvador’s. Enough to think – boyfriend. We need to see the actual messages, if possible,” Detective Wallace said more to himself. He scanned the warrant file and wrapped his knuckle on the desk. “Looks like we can get some of those text messages,” he said, when his phone rang. 
	“Hi. Detective Wallace. Mason is awake and wants to talk to the detective in charge of the Lynch case,” the officer on the other end said. 

Chapter 30

        Wes sat at his work desk. He contemplated where to move the majority of his funds. He already knew how much they would need to eek out a living without setting off too many red flags. 
        “How about Dubai?” He asked before he remembered she wasn’t there with him. He squeezed his hands into tight fists, took a deep breath, then clicked confirm. Everything is in order Grace…as soon as I find you, we’re off to start our new life. 

        Detective Wallace knocked at Robert Mason’s hospital door. The man had taken his time sweating out his binge drinking. 
        “Mr. Mason. I’m detective Wallace. You have something to tell me about Cherise Lynch,” he said, purposely omitting the murder. 
        Robert sat up and cleared his throat. “Why are the police holding me here?”
        “Sorry for the misunderstanding Mr. Mason, but you are being held. I asked the officer to be here so that we could talk to you right away. You’re free to leave anytime,”                 Detective Wallace said, hoping the man wouldn’t bolt. 
        “Oh. Hm ‘kay. Well, I don’t remember everything I said to you yesterday, but I do remember you were asking about Cherry. What’s she making more complaints about me?”
        “I’m sorry to tell you this Mr. Mason, but Cherise Lynch is deceased.” The detective watched for a reaction. The man hadn’t even batted an eye. 
        “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn’t exactly my favorite person. She liked to make up stories about me.”
        “Stories?”
        “That doesn’t matter now. Hm, wonder if I could get my job back,” the man said, smirking and rubbing his head. 
        “Anyone else you think would have an issue with her? Somone who would want her dead?”
        Robert squinted. “You just hold on. I didn’t do anything to that cun…I just wanted to talk to her. Wanted her to get my job back. That’s why I went over there.”
        “Well, Mr. Mason that’s the problem. You were the last person we know to have seen her alive.”
        “No. Uh-uh. I went over, but I didn’t talk to her. She didn’t even know I was there. Wait, that’s not how I mean it. She had a guest is what I mean. So, I figured it wasn’t the best time to…talk.” 
        “And what time was this? Can you describe the man?” Detective Wallace asked, leaning forward. 
        “Maybe 9:30, 10pm. And I sure can – he was like average guy height, slim, white, straight black hair, and eyes blue as hell. I only know because he turned toward the window and I swear I thought he saw me. If I’m being honest, the guy scared me,” Robert added. “Anyway, so I figure that guy was the last to see her.”
        Blue eyes. Can’t be Salvador. 
        “Have you ever met Grace’s husband before?” Detective Wallace asked. 
        “Of course. He used to come by the office all the time, bringing flowers and such. Like everyone else, Grace had him wrapped around her little finger.”
        “Hm. Have you seen the man from Grace’s house before?” 
        “Nope. And I hope I never see him again.”

Chapter 31

         Salvador sat in his car across the street from Grace & Hope’s contemplating the best approach. He couldn’t decide on grateful husband trying to thank Wes, or husband who will stop at nothing to find her. Salvador had decided on the former when he stepped into the shop, but when he looked around, there was no sign of Hope. Except for the time he followed Wes, it had been awhile since he actually stepped foot in the place. He approached the clerk slowly, a new plan forming in his mind.

        “Hi. I signed up for scheduled deliveries some time ago. Love the service by the way. Umm, I can’t remember if I gave you all my new billing address. Could you check to see what you have on file, please?” Salvador said, laying on the charm.

        “Sure. Name.”        
        “Wes…Chance.” Wes’s last name had almost escaped him.
        “Sure. Do you have your ID?”

        Salvador tapped on his pockets. “Shoot. I forgot my wallet in the car,” he said with mock frustration.
        “Mm, that’s okay. We have 203 Delaware Lane.”
        “Perfect! Okay. Yes, that’s right,” Salvador said making to leave, then turned back and added, “You know what…my last delivery wasn’t received. Could you see if that was my error? It just brings my mom so much delight, I don’t want her to miss another on account of my ridiculousness.”
        The clerk rattled off an address, but Hope was standing in the furthest aisle, squinting in their direction.
        “Thanks so much! You’re a Godsend,” Salvador said, and walked away as quickly as he could without making a scene.
        “Wait! Is that the right one?” The clerk called after him.
        “What was Salvador doing here?” Hope said, craning her neck to see where he’d gone.
        Salvador typed the second address into his phone’s GPS. His palms were already sweating. Are you there, Grace? He thought. As he sped toward what he hoped would be his wife, he used his Bluetooth to send a text to Charlie – got an address…well, 2. U don’t want to know how. One is his house; I think it’s where he’s keeping Grace at the other. He set up scheduled flower deliveries there after Grace went missing. If anything happens, give these to Detective Wallace. Then, he sent Charlie both addresses.

        Charlie’s phone chimed. “Shit.” Charlie had already informed Detective Wallace of Wes’s plans to go out of town. Now, he wondered if he was too late, if Wes would find Grace dead. You don’t deserve that. Charlie dialed the detective.
        “Charlie. That is not where Grace is being held,” the Detective said after Charlie dictated Salvador’s text message to him. “Thank you for letting me know. I need to call you back.”
        “Wait. How do you know? And did you guys gonna arrest Wes before he skips town…or, worse?” Charlie blurted out, but the line had already been disconnected.

        Salvador eased on the accelerator as he drew closer to the house. The place was covered in crime scene tape. “No. No!” Salvador yelled, his mind jumping to the worst possible scenario. “Why wouldn’t someone tell me?”
        He quickly opened the news application on his phone and scanned the headlines until his eyes landed on Cherry’s name. He frantically clicked open the story; right in the first two lines was the address. He kept scrolling, the words strangled and Chesterton Realty popping out. A horn honked behind him, and Salvador pulled over. The reporter had managed to piece together that the business was connected to two sinister happenstances but didn’t bother to mention Grace’s name. He dialed Detective Wallace.
        “Mr. Montes. I need your location right now before you do anything stupid. You’re digging yourself into a hole. Salvador, if I may, this man has all the makings of stalker charge on you. It’s a little hard to find Grace when you keep pulling my focus elsewhere.”
        “Charlie told you, didn’t he? I didn’t go to his house. Listen..” Salvador started to say, but was cut off.
        “Stalking, Mr. Montes. That’s a serious charge, not to mention the assault. You told me yourself that you followed him. You beat him up, as far as his bruises are concerned, and now you’ve managed to steal his personal information.”
        “I didn’t touch that man! Listen, I’m sorry, but just listen. He knew Cherry.”
        “What?”
        “Wes – he knew Cherry; he knew where she lived. He was sending her flowers. And now that you know I stole – I would hardly call it stealing. I asked, the girl gave. Anyway, now that you have a legit reason to go to G&H’s, you can get the proof that connects Wes to Cherry. I don’t think the boss is the guy, and I’m certainly not.”
        “Salv- Mr. Montes – it’s your DNA we have at Cherry’s. Your toothbrush, your underwear. You said you weren’t having an affair.”
        “I’m not…I wasn’t having an affair with Cherry. I’ve never been to that woman’s house. When was she killed, last night? I went on a blind date with you-know-who.”
        “And she can vouch for you?”
        “Well, she stood me up so no, but…but the people who worked there can, maybe they have cameras. I don’t know, but it wasn’t me. Matter-fact, my travel toothbrush is missing. I use an electric at home, but when I travel places, I bring a regular one. What color was it? I think mine is grey and blue. And those things might be there, but are my fingerprints?”
        “Let’s say I believe you, Mr. Montes, and that’s a big if – you still need to leave Mr. Chance alone. I’m serious. Now, I will go check out this shop, but please leave the detective work to us. Okay?”
        “Okay. And don’t forget the other address, his house. He could be keeping her there.”
        “That’s not Mr. Chance’s address, but we will check that out, too. Let us help Grace, you save yourself,” Detective Wallace said, hanging up the phone.

        Salvador drove home. He prayed that this new information was enough. When he arrived, he sent Charlie a quick text then hopped in the shower. Salvador stood under the hot stream of water, letting flow over his face and body as he tried to calm his mind. He thought about Jared and what he would say. He thought about Cherry, unsure how of the blame was on him, wishing he could take it all back just in case. When the water started to cool, he hopped out.
        Salvador tussled his hair with the towel, trying to eek out extra moisture, then wrapped it around his waist. He’d fallen backward on the duvet when his phone chimed.
        It was a voice message from Charlie – So, glad you’re not mad at me. I just couldn’t stomach if something bad were to happen…or, if you saw something you couldn’t unsee. Anyway, I can’t believe he knew Cherry. Who didn’t Wes get to know? Is that even his name? Well, I told Detective Wallace Wes planned to skip town yesterday so maybe now they can pick him up.
        Salvador popped straight up. Are you taking Grace with you or are you cutting your losses? Salvador thought as he yanked on jeans and a T-shirt, the material clinging to his still wet skin. Then, he punched in the other address and headed out the door.

Chapter 32

        “Yes, I know he has an alibi. I just need a welfare check. I have a bad feeling,” Detective Wallace yelled into his cell phone. As promised, he was going to check into the flower shop, then stopping by to make sure Wes hadn’t skipped town. Mason’s eyewitness account and their being another connection between Wes and Cherry, were enough to give the detective pause. 
        “No, send an officer to the hospital and to Mason’s house.” I already have one person’s blood on my hands. 

        When the detective arrived, the shop owner already had all of the information he needed at the ready. If only all businesses were this cooperative. 
        “Despite what everyone is saying about Salvador, he’s a good person. I’m not sure why he’s after this man’s information, but please take it easy on him. You know, with his wife disappearing an all,” Hope said. 
        “Is the man pressing charges?” the clerk asked. 
Detective Wallace’s face must have registered his confusion because Hope added, “We had to call him to let him know there was a breach of his personal information; that’s just good business. 
        Shit. Shit. “You didn’t mention Mr. Montes, did you?”
        “No, of course not. I thought better of it.”
        “Thank you so much for your help. We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Detective Wallace said rushing from the store. 
        “Fu- yes, hello. This is Wallace. Please send a uniform to 203 Delaware Lane. Just one car will suffice,” the detective barked, then hung up. 
        “Better safe than sorry,” he whispered to himself. 
The detective dialed Salvador, but it went to voicemail. Then, he tried Charlie. 
        “Charlie. Have you heard from Wes lately?”
        “No, why?” he asked, a tremble in his voice. 
        “So, no mention of when exactly he might be skipping town?”
        “No. Detective, am I endanger here?”
        “You’re fine. Just steer clear of me and text me if you hear anything from him,” the detective said.
        As soon as he hung up, his phone rang. 
        “Wallace. Tell me something good.”
        “Mason is dead.”
        “Foul play?”
        “Not that they can tell. Apparently, he was boozing while he was there and fell in the shower.”
        “Yeah, I don’t believe that. Look into it Spencer. Look real good. Last we talked he could ID someone, possibly Wes, with Cherry the night she died. I’m heading to his place now – with backup, don’t worry – but I need you to make sure they don’t miss anything in that hospital room.” 
        Detective Wallace stomped on his accelerator. 

        Salvador creeped down the road, eyeing the driveway. There weren’t any cars. He drove past the house and checked for other structures on the property – nothing he could see – but there was a glass sliding door. Once parked, he opened his glove compartment and eyed the pistol, then quickly shut it. He reached for the glove compartment again, then shook his head.  Salvador craned his neck in every direction possible before stepping out and jogging to the side door. 
        He looked up and there, pointed directly at him, was a camera. Eff it, he thought. If anyone was inside, they already saw him. He tried the door and it slid open. Salvador took several deep breaths while his eyes adjusted. The house was elaborate and spacious. There was a sprawling stone fireplace, glass and old money woods everywhere. His eyes scanned the space. No one yet. He jogged down each corridor, slowly pushing open every door until he came to a home office. 
        Nothing. Wait. Salvador did some quick calculations – the square footage of the room didn’t add up. A tiny bit of sunlight shone through the sides of what appeared to be blackout curtains, but he didn’t dare turn on a light. Instead, he used his phone flashlight to scan the walls. He almost missed the tiny, raise in the one behind the desk. When he drew closer, he realized what it was – a false wall. He put his phone down on the desk - promising himself he’d get a closer look at the open sheet of paper lying atop – then, used both hands and all his might to pull it open. 
        Inside, there were four high-top tables, empty save for some fancy tablecloths. When he saw no sign of Grace, he went back into the main office, ensuring to leave the door wide open. Then, he used his phone flashlight to see the sheet of paper was a letter – to Grace. Salvador’s hands trembled as he reached down, but a load beep startled him. He ran out of the office and checked from behind the corridor wall – no one. Finally, he came upon the one locked door in the house. A basement? 
        Salvador ran back into the office, yanked on drawers, and looked everywhere he thought a key might be hidden. Finally, he resolved to break the door down. He went to it, sized it up, then with all of his might, drew his knee up to his chest and slammed his foot into the door. A bolt of pain shot through his foot, calve, and thigh, but the door didn’t open. Salvador decided to give it one last try. Can’t take her out of here with broken legs. He took a deep breath, raised his knee, and slammed his foot into the door again. His foot landed closer to the doorknob and the power of his thrust sent him flying back first into the adjacent wall. 
        When he looked down, the door was ajar. He stretched his back and legs, then ventured down with cell phone flashlight. 
        The stairs creeked and the beeping grew louder and louder. In the center of the finished basement was a hospital bed, monitors and all, beeping sounds that burrowed into Salvador’s mind, echoing and bouncing. Around the bed was hospital furniture, and narrow tables with flowers and cards everywhere. He gingerly picked up the card closest to him. 
        Get better Grace. We miss you. XO Shelby
        You’re in our prayers. We love you. Sincerely, Taylor
        We know you’ll pull through this. Luv you. Emilee

        Salvador felt the urge to swipe every last card and bouquet off of the tables. As far as he knew Grace didn’t know anyone of the cards’ senders. He slowly walked over to the monitor that registered her heartbeat and fell to his knees when he saw the pulse flash up, then down, up then down. Footsteps boomed from upstairs. Salvador mouthed the words “Down here,” but the words barely escaped his mouth. 
        “Police!” 

        Charlie swallowed hard when he turned to see Wes’s picture on the news. He scrambled to find the remote and turn up his kitchen television. 

Police are on a manhunt tonight. Wes Chance, also known as Winter Kamiski, is wanted in connection with murder and kidnapping. That’s right, the search for Grace Palmer is finally over. The young woman was found hooked to machines, hospital-style, in an induced coma in Chance’s basement. Sources also claim that Chance is the main suspect in the slaying of Palmer’s co-worker, Cherise Lynch. More to come on that and you heard it here first, the last letter Palmer’s secret pen pal turned captor wrote her before he disappeared.

                                                                  The End

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	Detective Wallace sighed loudly as Salvador pleaded with him over the phone. They couldn’t make the upgraded charges stick and Salvador was bailed out shortly after his arrest. Now, the man wouldn’t stop calling him. First, he complained that he couldn’t go back to his house, then about his detail. Detective Wallace checked his watch. It read 7:47am. I don’t have time for this. 
	“C’mon. You saw my hands. If I beat him up so badly, why weren’t my hands bruised at all? I didn’t touch that man. I’m being set up here. There’s something off about that guy and you know it,” Salvador said.
	“You could have used anything to hit him with. Now, unless you want to talk to me about that email this conversation is over,” Detective Wallace said, exasperated. 
	“Wait! He’s an IT guy. He could have…yes, I followed him, but only because…” Salvador started to say. 
	“You followed him,” Detective Wallace said matter-of-fact. An admission. 
	“Well, yes, but, but…?”
	“Mr. Montes, you’re spiraling. Now, when you’re ready to talk to me about the money you sent to Ms. Lynch, the mistress that you joked about killing your wife with, and finally, the email ‘from Grace,’ that came from inside your home, I’d love to chat. Now, enjoy your freedom while it lasts,” Detective Wallace said, then hung up. 
A voicemail rang through. 
	Hi. Detective Wallace. I was told you were the one I should speak to. This is the security guard from Chesterton Realty. Bobby, erm, Robert Mason was fired yesterday, and he made threats against Cherise Lynch. Since there’s already one missing woman here, I thought I should tell someone. 
	The person hadn’t left a call back number, and it would take too long to get IT to fish for it. 
	Instead, detective Wallace dialed Cherry. 
        It went to voicemail. Shit. 
	He dialed 14 on his desk phone and dispatched a uniformed officer to perform a wellness check on Cherry. “Have them call me directly please.” He bit his fingernails as he waited. The shrill of his phone ringer made him jump. 
	“Wallace. Okay, secure the scene, then back out. Do not step in or on anything. Do not touch anything. I’m coming.” 

Chapter 27

	Wes squeezed into the bed next to her. He stroked her cheek. 
	“Why so balmy? No, stop, I couldn’t. Yes, things are getting precarious, but after all we’ve been through, I couldn’t leave you. You love me so much. I couldn’t wish for anyone better. No need to worry yet – I’ve put something in motion for us.” Wes said, pushing a curl out of her face. Then, he closed his eyes and kissed her cheek, and climbed out of the bed. 
	Wes was running behind schedule, but he couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror. The paperweight had done more damage than he anticipated. Worth the sacrifice. The police weren’t looking at Salvador hard enough, or fast enough. They can’t see how dangerous you truly are. Poor Grace, he thought to himself. 


	Detective Wallace took a deep breath before climbing out of his truck. The crime scene techs were already there and a perimeter set. He couldn’t accept it; he couldn’t understand how he missed the signs. The detective flashed his badge and ID at the officer at the front porch. A second officer waited inside; he handed Wallace a pair of booties to slip over his shoes. 
	“Detective Wallace? No forced entry – though the door was open when I arrived. The only disturbance is in the bedroom….on the bed. I checked her pulse just in case, but the bruising on her neck,” the officer stopped cold when they got to the bedroom door. His face paled, and he cleared his throat; Detective Wallace gave him an out. 
	“No need to go back in there. Just tell me what you experienced.”
	“Yes, sir. I…there’s nothing else I can add. After securing the scene, I walked a straight path out to keep from contaminating anything,” he added, then backed out towards the front door. 
	Detective Wallace pursed his lips, holding in a chuckle. Poor guy. 
	His breath caught in his throat when he stepped into the bedroom. There was a technician photographing a pair of men’s underwear on the floor, then a pillow closer to the bed. Another technician said without looking up, “ligature strangulation - that was pressed against her neck until she expired. No sign of sexual assault.”
	The detective’s eyes followed the tech’s finger to what looked like an award of some kind in an evidence bag. I’m sorry, the detective thought to himself. He hadn’t known her boss had lost his job, or how Cherise played a role, but all he could think of was her vibrancy and the life she could have had. Now, she lay here, hair shrewn about, and her face ashen. He couldn’t bare to look at her any longer. He turned to examine the bedroom. Is she asleep when he comes in? But how does he…a hideaway key most likely. Then, he noticed her cell phone. It was bagged up, but he took the chance. 
	“Gloves?” he asked. 
	One of the techs hurriedly supplied him with a pair. After donning the gloves, he picked up the phone and winced as he leaned over to use Cherry’s face to unlock it. The screen opened to her text messaging application. Everything was deleted. 
	“All the text messages were deleted. We have to recover those.”
	“On it. There’s DNA from the underwear, and a second toothbrush in the bathroom.”
	“A toothbrush.” Detective Wallace thought of Salvador instantly. Both had claimed there was no affair, but the money, the lies, the scheme in the first place. “I need a call directly, and a rush on this DNA. We may have released her killer just in time to do this.”
	When Detective Wallace got back in his car, he pulled up Mason's DMV records. 

	The detective pulled up to Cherry's boss's small, dilapidated home. Under the grime, were the remnants of what once was a beautiful house. It had a large porch that was overshadowed by overgrown shrubs. A large ceiling fan flanked two small, mostly dead ferns, and a single wicker chair. This was the head of a prominent realty firm? He tried to wipe the judgement off his face. The screen was locked, but the front door was open. 
	“Mr. Mason. It’s the police.” Detective Wallace squinted to see the outline of a man lounging on a recliner. “Mr. Mason. I can see you.”
	“Hold your horses,” he said, his words sloshing. “I’m comin’.” 
	Detective Wallace took a step back as Mason swung the screen door open, almost hitting him. 
	“Mr. Mason. I’m Detective Wallace. I need to talk to you about Cherise Lynch.”
	“Paid that little slut a visit,” Mason said, swaying and gripping a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. 
	“When? Last night?” Wallace asked, trying to stay calm. 
	“Sure…did. Went right to her house. Think she can…think she can get me fired,” Mason said. His face turned pale, and he fell over, crashing into Detective Wallace and sending them both down the stairs of the porch.  
	Detective Wallace managed to keep himself upright, but the drunken man was knocked out. He carefully laid him on the grass, checked his pulse, then ran to his car to radio for help. 

Thanks for sharing this space with me. I appreciate you. If you’re enjoying the story so far, don’t forget to:

• Come back on September 30 for the conclusion of Unrequited.

  • I’d love to know if anyone is interested in buying an e-book of the complete novella.

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Chapter 24

        Wes slowly moved along the tables lining the walls. He propped up each get-well card 8 inches apart until all but one was visible from the bed. Then, he placed carefully curated bunches of flowers between each card. A memory of Grace’s smile rolled through his mind, but it was quickly replaced by one of Salvador’s dark eyes on him. He rushed up the stairs and into his office. 
	Wes pulled out a piece of his nicest paper, and his pen inked with oxblood. 
	
   Dearest Grace, 
	I’m sorry, but I had to do it. I had to tell the police what Salvador did to me…and what he potentially did to you. I hope you won’t hate me because I could never hate you. You must know by now that I love you. There I said it. I know you’re probably hurting right now, but I will find you. And when I do, we will be together. Then, no one can hurt you ever again. 

                                                                                                                               Sincerely, 
                                                                                                                                        Wes

Chapter 25

	Salvador had been processed, but Jared had managed to keep him in the precinct lock up until they met. 
	“What are you saying, Jared?” Salvador asked with an incredulous look on his face. 
	“I’m saying – you may not get bail. This is no longer just an assault charge. They haven’t formalized it yet – my guess is they’re hoping you’ll confess – but they have more damning evidence against you in Grace’s case now,” Jared said. 
	“That’s impossible – I didn’t do anything to my wife. That bit–, ” Salvador began to say, but Jared interrupted. 
	“Let me stop you right there. I caution against comments like that…and I mean really, let’s not fuel the fire. The heat will be increasing rather shortly on its own. The email, Salv, the email Grace allegedly sent to you…it came from inside your house. If you received it when you say, while inside your home, how did it come from inside? Actually, don’t answer that.”
	“Jare…I didn’t send that email. I’m being set up here.” 
	“This is the thing. Grace could have scheduled that email to come to you after she had a chance to disappear, I can admit that. I do it all the time – schedule emails. The issue, and here are the big buts, she has not resurfaced, she has not reached out to her parents or friends, she hasn’t used any of your shared accounts, and if she used her own, the police wouldn’t be looking at her as a missing person. That, plus the affairs, the money, being in cahoots with the friend, not reporting her missing, it all makes you look like the big, bad husband everyone loves to see.” 
	Jared sat back, sizing up his client. He wanted to believe Salvador, and he also wanted to pawn off this case to someone else, anyone else. 
	“Don’t do that, Jared. I see your mind working. Don’t give up on me like everyone else.”

	Wes stepped out of the interview room. He had insisted that Charlie wait for him outside. He cradled his swollen eye and winced, for good measure. 
	“That bad, huh,” Charlie asked. 
	“I’m okay…or, at least I will be. They want to talk to you again. And listen…you can tell them everything, everything I told you, that I pushed you to report her. It’s time the whole truth came out so we can find Grace,” Wes said, nodding. 
	“Thank you, Wes. Will you be here when I come out?”
	“Of course.”
	Wes sat down; his eyes shifted over the entire room. 

	Cherry sat outside the realtor’s office in her car. She’d parked in her old spot, a stone’s throw from the front door. A few seconds later the front door snapped open and slammed into the outside wall. Cherry’s boss stomped out, boxes towering in his arms, and muttering curse words. Several of the female employees came to the door, and watched with smiles, gaffaws, and crossed arms. One mouthed the words - good effing ridden. Another – thank You, God. 
	Cherry picked up her phone and dialed her friend, Winter. It went to voicemail after one ring. She craned her neck to watch her boss struggle to pick up the remnants of a box he’d dropped. Cherry smiled and said into her friend’s voicemail, “Winter Kamiski, are you back in town yet? I miss you. Anyway – he’s gone. I got him. I don’t know if I’ll get my job back, but it’s still worth it. I couldn’t have done it without you, you know. Anyway, come see me tonight. You know where the spare key is.”

	Wes looked down at his phone – she had left him a voicemail. 

Thanks for sharing this space with me. I appreciate you. If you’re enjoying the story so far, don’t forget to:

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What’s New

Well…..Decorum is under contract with a publisher! You know that moment when all your hard work and dreams come to fruition….yeaaahhh, we’re there. Now, the reality is that the book still has a long way to go - I did NOT realize how task-ladden the process could be so bear with me here. There’s a ton of hurry up and wait, but there’s good news. You, darling subscriber, will get the first sneak peak of the cover art! (Not yet, not yet…it just went under contract two weeks ago, but I had to let y’all know.) So, y’all keep an eye out for the pre-order.

If you haven’t started Unrequited, here is the trailer and here is the link to access the story. In Unrequited, no one has heard from Grace in a week. So why hasn't her husband reported her missing, and why is a secret friend still penning her letters? Lies, stationery, and red herrings abound in this thriller that'll keep you asking - who can you trust in Grace's circle?

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Check out the story and let me know what you think. We have group chats going for Game Night and Unrequited - I’d love to chat with you all.

Mindful Moment

This is home for us, and they’re my whole world. What pushes you to do more and be more? What’s your motivation? Your happy place? I encourage you to take time to think about it, to work on it as hard as you work for someone else.

If you use a planner, a phone app, or sticky notes, pull it out right now and schedule in something fun, something rejuvenating, or 15 minutes of any task that’ll put you closer to a goal. If you need some inspiration, here’s my writer planner -

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Ever writing,

Nicole

Thanks for reading my Writer's Life newsletter. xo

When Salvador followed Wes, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He was simply curious about the man his wife had written for several years. Sal noticed Wes’s car was better than his. How the man strode with confidence towards it as if he knew Salvador was watching. Is it different following a man versus a woman, he thought. This wasn’t his first time…though his usual were women he dated. 
	Wes pulled into Grace & Hope. Salvador’s stomach knotted as a memory replayed. When word of the new florist and card shop released, he and Grace joked that it had opened just for them. This was especially so because Salvador would bring Grace fresh flowers every week, and she would give him a card in return, but that was at the beginning of their relationship. He shook off the memory and slowly made his way inside. The shop had since grown from its meager existence to having an extra greenhouse, so Salvador was able to keep an eye on Wes without getting too close. 
	Wes moved towards the card aisle and into the get well soon section. He scanned the rows of cards, then began plucking several off the papyrus shelf. One by one, he plucked, read or Salvador assumed, then stacked them together with envelopes. Over and over, as if in a trance, until he had over 10 cards and matching envelopes. 
	What the freak? Salvador thought. 
	Then, Wes went over to the bouquet section. There, too, he scanned, then plucked…and plucked, numerous bouquets of varying flowers until he couldn’t hold anymore in his arms. Wes walked through the empty-ish shop, balancing the flowers and cards until he got to the counter. Hope, one of the shop’s namesakes, turned; her eyes widened. 
	“Um, wow,” she mouthed, then said something Salvador couldn’t here. 
	Once Wes had safely deposited his arm’s contents onto the counter, he pointed to the sign. Salvador moved closer. The sign advertised their scheduled delivery service. 
	Hope craned her neck and squinted as if she saw Salvador. He quickly exited, hoping she wouldn’t call out his name. Tiny beads of sweat began to form on his upper lip as he slipped into his car and slouched down in his seat. He debated if he should continue to follow the man. 
	Several more minutes passed before Wes exited the shop. Scheduled delivery. Salvador knew how the service worked – shortly after he and Grace became more serious, he had switched to using the service. More convenient, he’d replied to Hope when she said Salvador was more romantic than that. Meanwhile, Grace had stopped buying the shop’s cards and started buying their paper to handmake her gifts for him. He shook away the memory. Scheduled delivery meant they needed his address…but would they share it? 
	Salvador had pulled out his phone to text Jared.
	WES BUYS FLOWERS FROM G&H. THEY MIGHT HAVE HIS ADDRESS. MAYBE YOU COULD LAWYER IT OUT OF THEM. 
	Writing bubbles popped up on Salvador’s phone. Jared was typing. The bubbles stopped, then started. 
	I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW HOW YOU KNOW ANY OF THAT. GOING TO TALK TO CHARLIE A LITTLE LATER THIS MORNING. THEN, WILL MEET WITH DET. 
	Satisfied, Salvador pulled away from the shop, unknowingly catching the eye of Wes as he drove past. 

Chapter 23

        “How is that possible?” Detective Wallace asked, his voice rising. 
        “And, you’re sure? Yes…mhm…okay. Well, keep me posted if there are any other developments,” he replied to the phone, then slammed the receiver down. 
        “Whoa. What did the phone do to you?” his partner asked sarcastically. 
        “The letters – the only prints are Grace’s and her husband’s.”
        “You’re kidding.”
        “I’m not sure this Wes person even exists,” Detective Wallace said, huffing and leaning back in his chair. He screwed his lips together, then said more to himself, “the café…gotta be where Mr. Giordano works, right?” 
        Detective Wallace picked up the phone and dialed Charlie. The phone rang a few times, then went to voicemail. 
        “Hi Charlie. It’s Detective Wallace. Please give me a call as soon as you are able. Or, just pop down to the station. We need to chat. It’s urgent,” then the detective rattled off his phone number and hung up. 

        A voicemail notification flashed on Charlie’s screen as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. The dark circles under his eyes had doubled, he just couldn’t get his hair to cooperate, and he had small clusters of acne on his face; he felt aged. Several of his employees had come and gone, knocking. After splashing water onto his face for the third time, he listened to the detective’s voicemail. 
        “Damn it! Damn it!” 
        He quickly tapped a text to Wes – THE POLICE WANT ME TO COME IN. IT’S PROBABLY ABOUT THE LETTERS. 
        Charlie spent the rest of the morning panicking, waiting for Wes to get back to him. He’d planned on popping over to the station on his lunch break. One more hour Wes. You better tell me something. Charlie had not planned to tell the police about Wes, but now that they had the letters, what could he possibly hold back. He was about to head out, when his phone dinged. 
        Meet me on the side of the building. 
        Charlie shivered, then looked around frantically. His hands shook as he walked outside and towards their meetup spot. Charlie gasped loudly when he saw Wes. His left eye socket was swollen shut, mouth was busted and speckled with dry blood, and the rest of his face had faint bruises. 
        “What. In. The. Hell?” Charlie said, rushing to touch Wes's face, then thought better of it. 
        “Salvador followed me the other day and…we got into it. I consider myself a pretty good fighter, but he blindsided me.”
        “You’re kidding!? You have to go to the police…especially, since they know about you already. There’s no reason not to. That man is out of control,” Charlie said, shaking still.
        “I don’t know Charlie. Who knows what he’ll do, then.”
        “I’m on my way to the station now. I’ll go with you.” Charlie offered.
Wes chewed his lip. 
        “C’mon, Wes. I have to go. You coming or not?” Charlie said. He didn’t want to be insensitive, but he was on the clock….and he wasn't giving Wes time to make an excuse. 
        Wes slowly nodded, and the two men walked toward the police station. 

        “How could you be so dumb? I can’t mince words here. There’s no other way to describe joking about your missing wife, following her weirdo stationery lover, harassing her best friend for reporting her missing! Are you trying to go to jail? I’ve never lost a case yet, Salv, don’t make this the one,” Jared yelled from across his desk. 
        “I made that joke when I truly thought she was okay. And you know my temper man,” Salvador replied. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.  
        “Do yourself a favor and don’t let anyone hear you say anything in the realm of ‘you know my temper?” Jared said, exhaling loudly. 
        “Anything else Salvador? I’m serious. Is there anything else you need to tell me? If I’m blindsided again you'll need a new lawyer.” Jared continued, “this mistress. You’ve never met in person? Never – outside of those unfortunate comments – made even a joke about killing Grace? Never gave this person the idea that you could be together if Grace were out of the picture?”
        “No! I never met her. Yes, that wasn’t my only affair, but the other ones were just sex. It’s different with Jenny - it was just nice to feel…known, to have someone laugh at my jokes, and ask me how my day was…and actually care about the answer,” Salvador said. 
        Just as Jared was about to make a comment, there was a knock at the door. 
Jared’s assistant popped her head into his office and said, “Um, sir. The police are here.”
        Jared shot Salvador a look. 
       “Mr. Montes. We know you’re in there. We need you to come out now.” 
        The two men emerged from the office to see Detective Wallace in the office lobby, and police officers at the door. The detective held out a folded piece of paper. 
        “Please step outside, Mr. Montes.”
        “Jared?” Salvador asked, his eyes pleading. 
        “You have to Salv. It’s going to be okay,” Jared said, his eyes scanning the arrest warrant. 
        “Salvador Montes. You’re under arrest for the assault of Wesley Chance. You have the right to remain silent…” Detective Wallace started to rattle off, but Salvador could no longer hear. 
        “What did you do?” Jared mouthed as cuffs were placed on Salvador’s wrists and he was dragged away. 

To be continued...

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