songs for the chapter:
invincible - jesse mccartney
The following year seemed to fly by in a kaleidoscope of smiles and good memories. Janelle was hired as a wedding planner, practically putting all the other ones in town out of business. Dean and Elijah opened their own garage, Sam continued to suffer through his general education courses, Klaus continued painting, a few of his pieces being displayed in art museums, at first only locally and then nationwide. I got a job at a publishing firm, continuing to write on the side.
Everything was slowly falling into place. Janelle was planning my wedding much faster than I had anticipated, but neither Dean nor I had thought of a date. She started pushing the subject, overwhelming the both of us. We finally decided on September first of the following year, since I wanted a fall wedding at the upcoming September was too close for it to be possible.
A few of my coworkers knew about my writing. I made the mistake of letting Emily read one of my stories, and after, she was constantly telling me I should pitch some of my writing.
"What's the worst that could happen?"
"I could get rejected and be too scared to ever write again."
She rolled her eyes, smiling as we entered the building and got to work.
About a month after she read my work, her constant suggestion of me pitching my work stopped. I wasn't sure why, and at first I didn't worry too much about it. It wasn't until I was called into my boss' office that I realized what had happened.
"Is this your manuscript?" she asked, holding up a a clean binder with the title of my story on the front.
"Um, I think so." I walked further into the office, reaching my hand out slowly. "May I?"
She nodded, holding out the binder for me to take. I opened it, my heart stopping when I saw my writing on the page, and I closed the binder immediately, handing it back to her.
"It is," I said. "I don't know how it got in here. It was probably Emily, I'm so sor-"
Ms. Henry shook her head. "Don't apologize. This was amazing. With your permission, I would love to publish it."
My heart practically beat out of my chest as the words left her mouth, my smile hurting my cheeks as it filled my face. "Yeah. Yes. Okay," I said every affirmative word I knew, making Ms. Henry laugh.
"Okay," she smiled. "We'll get started immediately."
That year, I published my first book. As soon as the ink hit the pages, everything changed. It seemed that over night it had become a bestseller, something I had only dreamed would happen. I was thrown into a world of meetings and signings, the positive reaction my book was receiving overwhelming me at each stop. I began traveling, at first only in California, and then across the nation. When Dean couldn't join me on the out of state trips, Klaus would. Many of the states I traveled to were places Klaus had already been for his artwork, and we would often stay an extra day, just so we could swing by the galleries his work was displayed at.
Fall was my favorite time of the year, and in my mind, I had an image of orange leaves littering streets and the need for sweatshirts and beanies and boots. I had never actually experienced the fall I imagined, not until Dean packed up the car and told me to get in. He drove the eight hours it took to get to San Francisco, stopping in the middle of the city for us to check into our hotel. We spent days in the City, stopping at all the spots we had always wanted to see: Haight-Ashbury, Twin Peaks, Alcatraz, Ghiradelli Square. We even drove into Palo Alto for a few days so I could see the colorful leaves covering the smooth streets. I fell in love with him again, with the way his eyes lit up when he saw something he liked, the way he always tried to hide his smile, still in the mindset that he had to be tough and stoic at all times. The way he secretly liked my music, and how when I turned it up loud enough, he would sing along, thinking I couldn't hear him. Six years before, I fell in love with Dean Winchester, not knowing what loving him would mean- I didn't know about the monsters, or his dad, or the heavy burden he had been carrying almost all his life. All I knew was that being with him changed me. Six years later, I watched him drive into the City as night fell, the windows down, Lights by Journey blasting through the speakers, and knew that the change was for the best. No one would ever be a better fit for me than Dean Winchester.
