Jake knew exactly what to do when she got like this. He kept to the kitchen, bothered her only to make sure she was eating, watched with an adoring stare as she paced the floor of their shared apartment, brain-storming with big headphones covering her ears. Such were the perils of being engaged to Ruby Whitmore, bestselling romance author on a deadline for a highly-anticipated fourth novel.
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Jake knew exactly what to do when she got like this. He kept to the kitchen, bothered her only to make sure she was eating, watched with an adoring stare as she paced the floor of their shared apartment, brain-storming with big headphones covering her ears. Such were the perils of being engaged to Ruby Whitmore, bestselling romance author on a deadline for a highly-anticipated fourth novel.
He was grateful for the experience granted to him by their four year relationship. The first time he’d seen her nearing a publishing deadline, he’d been completely out of his depth. Horrified, watching his sweet girl become a writing, editing, pacing zombie. They’d been together just six months and Ruby had been wary of the relationship getting serious at an important career intersection. She was finishing her sophomore novel and desperate to live up to the success of her debut.
But Jake had stuck it out. He’d started coming over to her apartment just to sit in the same room while she worked. He’d started cooking for her every night, showing up unannounced with ingredients his restaurant would have tossed out. He’d listen to the sound of her fingers on a keyboard and the sizzling of peppers in a pan and feel perfectly content.
He told her he was falling for her on a night like that. After watching her work, making her dinner, heart soaring at the grateful smile she gave him.
For his troubles, a line in her author’s note.
Thank you to my dear friend Jake Wilson, without whom I might have starved in the process of writing this book.
“Just a dear friend?” he’d joked when he read it. They’d been dating for a year and some change by the time she got a proof copy. He read the book in two days, finished it on her couch with her feet in his lap after a celebratory dinner.
She’d pulled herself closer, looping arms around his neck. Kissed his cheek. “I wanted the thanks to be timeless. Just in case.”
“I’m still offended,” Jake said. He hadn’t been really, he understood the hesitation to put feelings into print.
“You’re not really.” She’d told him. “Tell me what you thought of the book.”
And he did. Over and over, until it came time to tell her what he thought of the next one.
Her third book came the next year, they were on the verge of moving in together when her deadline zombie months came. Moving was tabled until publication.
He was mentioned in the author’s note a second time.
Thank you to my boyfriend, Jake Wilson, for keeping me sane and well fed.
When Ruby gave him his proof copy, he’d flipped straight to the acknowledgements, read the line, kissed her in the doorway.
“Move in with me,” he’d said. “Please.”
And she did.
Between books three and four, Ruby took a break. With bills split, both Ruby and Jake could afford to focus on each other more. He’d transitioned from cooking in a fancy restaurant to teaching at a nearby culinary institute. The job suited him, his exceedingly gentle nature made him a wonderful instructor. The two of them made a happy little life together and Jake realized all at once that he wanted it to last forever.
A week after their engagement, Ruby pitched a book to her editor. Jake overheard the phone call in bits and pieces.
“The love interest is a chef… Right, yeah… She’s from a small town… No, I’ve already started… Thank you! I’m really happy… I think I want the wedding to happen before publication but I’m not sure…”
It took Ruby a whole month to tell Jake about the story after getting the go-ahead from her agent. He’d been waiting impatiently to tease her for writing a love story with a chef for a love interest. Secretly, he’d always hoped to serve as inspiration for her writing. They were laying in bed, just about to sleep, when she told him.
“I started book four,” she said.
He mustered surprise. “Really? That’s great!”
“Don’t make fun of me,” she said. “But the love interest is a chef.”
It was impossible to keep himself from laughing out loud. Even though he’d known, hearing her saying it was priceless. “You’re kidding.”
“I told you not to make fun of me!” She laughed easily, though. He knew she’d been bracing herself for the teasing. “It’s just such a rom-com profession. I had to.”
“I’m not making fun of you-“ He flipped over, bracing himself on his elbows to hover above her. “-but I am going to be a smug asshole about this forever.” He kissed her, feeling warm, making her blush.
And here was the beginning of the deadline zombie phase. He was in the kitchen, tending to a seasonal pumpkin soup, she was blasting rock music through her headphones and pacing circles around the living room. Business as usual in the Wilson-Whitford home.
“Jake?”
He was almost startled hearing her voice. Just a moment before, Ruby had been on a completely different planet. He turned, finding her already in the kitchen, headphones in hand.
He leaned against the counter, smiling at his beautiful girl. “What’s up?”
“Can you be my rubber duck for a second?”
If it weren’t for her serious tone, Jake would have laughed out loud. “What do you mean?”
She twisted the headphones in her hands. “You know, how computer programming students talk to a rubber duck when they can’t find a problem in their code?”
“I do not.”
“Okay, well…” She giggled. “I read about it one time.”
“You need me to listen to you talk about your book?” He was almost afraid to suggest it. Ruby had always been guarded about her ideas, talking things through with her agent or editor if at all. Jake wanted to be let into the process, just to see how her mind worked. He loved seeing the way all his favorite little pieces of her made it to the page, but he respected her desire to keep the rougher edges of the process to herself.
Blessedly, she nodded. Jake turned down the burner to keep the soup base just below a simmer and swooped Ruby into his arms, hoisting her to sit on the kitchen island in front of him.
“I’m all yours,” he said.
While he chopped the rest of his autumn vegetables, Ruby explained the basic plot of her book. When she began elaborating on her characters, Jake had to fight to keep the grin from his face. The main character of the novel, Juliet, was a neurotic librarian, brilliant if a little lost in the clouds, and the love interest, Richard, was the proprietor of a new restaurant in town, effortlessly sexy and down-to-earth.
“I’m writing part of it from the man’s perspective, I don’t usually do that but, I don’t know, it’s a popular style now.” Ruby chewed her thumbnail, deep in thought. Like a rubber ducky, Jake didn’t have to say much to help her think through her issue. He was stirring the soup again by the time she’d caught him up on the basics, adding all the vegetables he’d just chopped.
He put the lid back on the pot, turned back to her. Leaning with his hands on either side of her on the counter, he said, “Are you having trouble with the man’s point of view?”
She frowned. “Maybe.”
“I happen to know a guy,” Jake joked, “he’s a sexy chef exactly like Richard Walton. Could probably connect a few dots.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “Maybe. As long as this dude doesn’t have a huge fucking ego about his fiancée writing a character kind of based on him.”
Jake leaned closer, their noses almost touching. “And if he does?”
“Unfortunately, I still might need the help.”
“What are you stuck on, in particular?” Jake moved one hand from the counter to her thigh, watching her eyebrows knit together at the sudden transition from teasing to flirting.
“It’s… Um. So,” Ruby stammered, flustered for all her fictional experience with romantic advances much more blatant than this one. She cleared her throat. “I just don’t know how to express, like, desire from the male perspective. It feels like it should be different somehow.”
Jake hummed, low in the back of his throat. “It sounds like you need a hand from a sexy chef.”
“Would you please stop referring to yourself as a sexy chef in the third person?” Ruby laughed, shaking her head at him.
“You could start with the way her nose scrunches when she laughs,” Jake said. “He might like that.”
She leaned back, caught onto his game. “Juliet isn’t based on me.”
“So you’re writing about me falling in love with some other girl?”
“I…” Ruby frowned. “Fine. If we’re being technical, all of my characters are a little bit me.”
“I know,” Jake said. “That’s why I love your books.”
She blushed again. Compliments never seemed to get through to her, since she was always focused on writing the next great thing. He was surprised to see that make any impression.
“But if Juliet doesn’t scrunch her nose when she laughs,” he said. “He probably likes the way she purses her lips when she’s thinking. Probably wants to kiss a quizical look right off her face.”
“Should I be taking notes?” Ruby raised a hand to Jake’s face, then, dismissing the pretense just slightly. She stroked the stubble on his cheek with her thumb, studied him. Seemingly from nowhere, she said, “You’re so good to me.”
Jake smiled, followed the worry in her brows down to her eyes. “You’re easy to be good to.”
She shook her head at him. “No, I know this part of the writing is miserable. I’m sorry I shrink away so much to get the books done.”
“Baby,” he said. He raised a hand to cover hers. “I love this part of it. I love getting to help you through it.” He kissed her forehead. “I love getting to watch my brilliant future wife be brilliant.”
She kissed him, looping her arms around his neck to pull him close. He loved the feeling of her hands in his hair, her body pressed against his.
When she pulled back, he could see the wheels turning in her head with increasing speed. The beauty of one of her breakthroughs.
“I think I’ve figured out the scene,” she said. “You’re an even better rubber ducky than you are sexy chef.”
Jake chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
She hopped down from the counter, landing between his arms and pressed against him. “You should finish your soup,” she teased.
Without moving away, Jake reached behind him and turned the burner off entirely. “It’ll survive being reheated.”
She giggled. “I should get back to my book.”
“I think you should do some research on, um, desire? From the male perspective?”
Ruby laughed, feeling the punchline of his joke pressed against her thigh, then she relented. She wrote many things from experience, after all.
-
After the deadline came a renewed focus on wedding planning. The couple hoped to be married and honeymooned before the book release, leaving Ruby more free to plan signings. She’d be going on a book tour for the first time that year, which was an exciting milestone even if she knew she’d miss Jake and their cozy apartment.
When the proofs for her fourth novel came, Ruby couldn’t wait to give one to Jake. It was the middle of the day and he was still at the culinary institute with a class. She surprised him on campus, knocking on his classroom door with the book behind her back.
A student answered, but she recognized Ruby from the pictures displayed on Jake’s desk. She let Ruby in without a second thought.
“Ruby?” Jake smiled, his face betraying worry and confusion despite his excitement to see his fiancée.
She nodded at the classroom of students, staring at her from their messy workstations.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to give you this.”
Ruby handed him the book, kissed the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” she said. As soon as she’d arrived, she was gone again, leaving Jake dumbstruck in her wake.
She’d bookmarked the acknowledgements for him.
