Chapter 26
“What did you do?” I say under my breath, looking up at Jack as the clapping ensues around us and lights shut off.
Somebody is swiftly removing my mic and Jack’s.
People are in a haze around us, movement flying by all around, but we are in the center of the tornado. Eyes locked on each
other. The quiet in the storm.
“This has got to be the prank of the year for them. News of this is going to hit every outlet from NYC to Taiwan,” I say.
“I never liked conventional marketing and publicity.” Jack grins. “Think outside the box, I say.”
“You’re going to be fired. You’re going to be sued ,” I reply.
And at this, that confident little grin lights up his face. “Bryony.” He dips his chin down. “I’m a little better at contracts
than you think.”
“Speaking of , how about that threat of suing me?”
“I tried every which way to get you here. And legally to pull this off you needed to be clueless. It was a last resort. Well,
aside from cameras in your face at four in the morning and Amelia saying, ‘Good morning, brYONY PAGE!’ They did like that
idea.”
I shudder, imagining it.
“No, but once they heard this plan they were pretty hooked,” he continues.
“You’re at least going to lose your reputation. You can’t just rat out your authors. And Amelia Benedict at that.”
He shrugs. “I knew the risk.” A significant pause follows. The crow’s-feet at his temples crinkle as he looks at me with those
proud green eyes. “Worst-case scenario, it was still worth it.”
And I feel the walls around my heart crack a bit more.
He’s risked everything. Who knows what the fallout of betraying Amelia Benedict will be? Who knows how much that will cost him?
“I hear The Bridge could be hiring. I’m very good at English,” he says.
And I laugh. It’s the first laugh between us since all this happened.
I put my hand on his arm. Laugh some more, picture Jack standing at a board, growing furiously impatient over the explanation
of an orange. Shouting eventually, “ Or-ANGE. This is an OR-ANGE! ” I shake my head. “No.”
He smiles at my laughter, all the way till my laughter runs out.
“Hey,” he says more seriously, jokes aside now.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. I was wrong for lying to you about sending the manuscript off. That was on me. And it’s not an excuse, but to be clear, after the
books under Amelia took off, I was told to keep you at all costs. And at the time, for a long time, I let the excuse of your
book needing work and your resistance to work on it lead the manipulation.
“And for some of that time, for a long time, I lied to myself. Telling myself you were in a great place. You had growing success.
I upped your margins. You had a steady stream of income. And publishing out there, in the big world, 99 percent of the time
would get you nothing. More than likely, you’d be paying in time and energy for the privilege of making a few bucks in an
overly saturated market. Particularly with the way Meet Me Under the Bridge looked when you first sent it. It had”—he shrugs—“it was just going to be extremely difficult to get it sold in that condition.
And I don’t blame you, Bryony. People love their first novels, but they also tend to cling too hard to them. They become their
untouchable project. Their baby. Especially when there’s a deeper purpose behind it.
“To be honest, it wasn’t until I met the students themselves that I could understand your attachment to the place, and your
mission. And by the time I was completely on board, I realized we had gotten ourselves so deep in a web within the Amelia
world that it would be near impossible to get you out—unless I did something drastic.
“I spent the past four months trying to get you out, though The Foundry Literary resisted all my efforts. I was trying to convince them still when you found out.
“So. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. And I was wrong to make decisions for you instead of with you. I was wrong for not being 100 percent honest. I was wrong for choosing to deceive myself for a long time and tell myself
this was better for you when it wasn’t my choice to make. And I’m not asking for anything here, anything bigger.” He shrugs again and gives a vulnerable rub of his chin as he works out his next words.
“I just... hoped... you could forgive me. Because I am really sorry, Bryony.”
I stare at him for a long time, my face frozen. This. This is what Jack does. He can convince you of anything.
“Are you crazy?” I say at last.
This takes him by surprise. “What? Well.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck now. “I just... hoped...”
“You think I would let you go after you risk your entire career for me? You are stupid —”
“Painfully so.”
“And it was very, very, very, VERY wrong to lie to me—”
“I know, Bryony. I’m so sorry—”
“But the stupidest thing of all here is to risk your job for me. To threaten to sue me just so... I could be... happy. You must think I’m an idiot.”
His eyes are clouded, confused. “Well. I—”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight again , sir.” I close the gap between us so his chin is at my forehead. “This close, see? You’re going to be stuck to my side forever.
I certainly hope you thought this through, because that’s how it’s going to be.”
He’s grinning as the tension releases from his shoulders and I cling fast. “It’ll be a little challenging to fly to Italy
to sell your book this way.”
“We’ll buy a double-seater,” I say, and kiss him before he can come up with another word.
“Somebody catch this!” Melinda says distantly in the fog.
“This better not be a publicity stunt.” I pull back momentarily with a grin.
He chuckles low and whispers in my ear, “I warned you I’m not a conventional agent, Bryony Page.”
And he leans down, tucking a lock behind my ear.
His hands thread through my curls, clutching me as his lips meet mine with an unspoken agreement to never be so far away again.