I've spent three hours unpacking, cooking dinner, and cleaning the house. All of that took an hour, and the rest was spent staring at the blank page on my laptop. The draft is placed directly next to it. I stare at it, and it stares back at me. My inspiration angel abandoned me years ago. I haven't written any romances since this draft.

I can't keep blaming my old wound for my lack of creativity. As a fantasy novelist, I've always been proud of my effortless writing process. I'm not sure what to do with this one.

I sobbed when reading the draft, but it requires a lot of work. My memories were written in detail on those stacks of papers, therefore they cannot be considered final drafted novel. The very thought of putting my story with Damian into words and creating a work piece made me anxious. It was as if I was violating his memory for financial gain.

When my phone rang, I looked at the name and sighed. "I'm trying I swear!"

"Wow, you sound great." Kylie replied, chuckling.

"I have no idea what is happening to me; I can't even write a single paragraph. The draft is just there, and rewriting it is a nightmare!" I couldn't tell her how many times I attempted to rewrite the first page and how horrible it was.

"I don't know what to tell you, We can just gave it to the editor and he would pick it up but it must be re-written first, the draft is just raw of emotions and memories." Kylie spoke in a serious tone. "I'm with you regardless of what, but we need a book or at least a polished draft. I don't want to rush you, but we're now too late to allow your angel time to emerge. You either summon it or we will lose the book deal. We only have one year to publish it."

I took a deep breath; she is right as always. "I will do it, I will go for a walk and just write it down." I could hear her breathing; she wanted to say something more, and I know she was trying to be polite.

"He would have been proud of you Annabelle." Please, don't say it. "You wouldn't betray his memory by doing this." I hate how well she knows me.

"I don't think like this, it just..."Kylie stopped me when she said my first name again.

"He was my best friend, and I knew him as well as I knew you. You can write a fucking novel in a couple of weeks, you are an exceptionally fast writer. What is holding you back right now is your overwhelmed emotions. Turn your sadness into rage, and write that shit."

This isn't going anywhere. I left the house and decided to go for a walk.

The instant my feet hit the soft sand, a sense of peace poured over me; the beach itself had the power to soothe my restless mind. The air was fresh and salty, energizing my senses and clearing away the mental fog. I needed this.

Ruffles sounds followed me. Fast steps and shortness of breath. I was about to look back when I gazed at the creature behind the sounds. A fluffy golden retriever landed heavily at me full of boundless energy and overflowing with joy.

Startled but very amused, I burst into laughter as the dog showered me with affectionate licks, its wet tongue tickling my hands and face. The unexpected interact caught the attention of the dog's owner, who had been a few paces away. Shocked and concerned, he called out to him, his voice filled with urgency.