Chapter 38
Ryan
I wake up the next morning with dread pooling low in my belly. There’s only one certainty in my life right now: I fucked up. Badly.
Last time, I had no way of knowing that pushing for that deal wasn’t what Scarlett needed. I truly thought I was helping—that if she were adequately compensated for the work she was putting in, it might feel more fair, more motivating. And then she was gone, and I couldn’t fully grasp the ramifications of my actions until she was here with me again.
But I’m not the hero of this story. I think that’s what Casey was getting at with his little “be an editor” exercise. The hero would learn from the past. If yesterday is any indication, I haven’t learned shit. Instead of being different this time, I tried to convince her that things outside of our control would be different. And she was right. They won’t. Not really. Not in any important way. Not in the way she needs.
I try to call her when I wake up, but she doesn’t answer. If I didn’t have to go into the office, I’d stand outside of her apartment with a boombox over my head, blasting love songs until she came outside to me. But I’m on thin ice as it is, so I head to work.
“Hello,” Margie singsongs as I walk into my office. “Your phone rang a few times this morning.”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I frown. “It’s only just after nine.”
She shrugs. “All I know is that it was ringing. I don’t think anyone left any messages, though.”
The voicemail light isn’t on, so she’s right. Strange. I don’t know very many people who would call my office line before nine, and certainly no one who would do that and not leave a message. Maybe it was Anastasios and I’m in deeper shit than I thought. Maybe it was about Scarlett.
“Thanks, Margie. What do you have on the docket today?” I ask as I sink into my chair and try to shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong.
“Mucking through the slush pile, as usual.” She tilts her head and presses her lips together. “I suppose you probably need a new project now.”
My shoulders fall as I sigh. The thought of going back to business as usual is the nail in my coffin this morning. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Just as the depressing realization that I’m back to editing works that can’t hold a candle to Scarlett’s is sinking in, Trina appears in my doorway in a flurry of orange skirts and jingly jewelry. Her red lips are twisted into a mischievous grin.
“Don’t you ever answer your phone?” she asks.
I’m out of my chair in a second, walking toward her. “I just got here. What happened? Is Scarlett okay? Why didn’t you call my cell?”
“Down, boy.” She raises her eyebrows, but that smile is still plastered on her face. “She’s on her way here. Last I talked to her, she was a few minutes behind me. I thought you might want to…I don’t know. Meet her in the lobby or something.”
She’s on her way to tell everyone she’s not publishing her book. I do my best to fight the dread. This is what she needs, and I will support her, even if I’m disappointed. But Trina is right. I can see her. I need to see her.
Nodding once, I rush past her out my door. But before I can even hit the button for the elevator, Trina’s voice follows me down the hallway.
“Hey, Whitlock,” she calls. “Let her do this, okay? Trust her.”
Swallowing hard, I nod again. The elevator doors ding open behind me, and before I know it, I’m descending. My heart is in my throat, and my hands wiggle at my sides as if some of my nervous energy could be shaken out through my fingers.
There wasn’t any real part of me that thought she’d disappear again, but I’d be lying if I said the possibility hadn’t crossed my mind last night while I was busy thinking about how much of an idiot I had been to walk away from her in the first place.
But now she’s coming here. She’s on her way. And I guess I didn’t realize how afraid of never seeing her again I truly was, because the relief I feel when the elevator doors open just as she’s stepping into the lobby is palpable.
Scarlett has always been beautiful, but today she’s radiant. Her dark hair is shining in the sunlight as it cascades in soft waves down her back. She’s wearing a loose-fitting cream blouse that has been tucked into navy linen pants that cinch her waist and flow outward toward her brown ballet flats. And when she turns her blue eyes to me, they sparkle.
The icing on the cake is the luminous smile that expands her pink lips when she sees me.
“Hi,” she says, and with that one word, I can tell she’s happier than she’s been in a long time. It’s a casual word, relaxed. I don’t think I even realized how stressed she had been and for how long until seeing her now, put together and smiling and glowing, tossing me a “Hi” in the lobby.
The weight of publishing was pulling her down, and it happened so slowly, so quietly that I missed it. Not only did I miss it, I helped it happen. Now that she’s about to let it go, she’s free.
I won’t stand in the way of that freedom. Not anymore.
Ten. I count the steps it takes to get to her, and it’s ten. Ten too many, if you ask me, but when I’m standing in front of her, watching her face tip up toward me, smelling her black-tea scent, I can’t imagine being anywhere else with anyone else ever again.
Professional workplace decorum be damned. I thread my fingers into her silky hair and tug to angle her face just right so I can devour her lips with mine. She opens easily for me, and I slip my tongue in to dance with hers, capturing her small moan for myself. As she presses her body closer to mine, we lock together, all of my angles meeting her soft curves. Exactly how we should be.
I break the kiss well before I want to, trying to restrain myself a little in my place of work. But when I open my eyes, hers are studying me softly, and that smile is back on her now swollen lips.
“Hi,” I say back, and we both laugh. God, it feels so fucking good to hear her laugh.
“Listen, I want to explain—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“No. You don’t have to explain anything. I’m the one who needs to explain. Scratch that. I need to grovel at your feet for the rest of eternity.”
“Cool it with the hyperbole, oh Wise and Witty Syntax Sorcerer, Wielder of the Red Pen, and Master of Manuscripts.” She giggles. She actually giggles.
I blink in surprise. “You…you remember that whole thing?”
She tilts her head and pinches her brows. “Of course I do,” she says quietly, the words full of emotion. “They might not be tattooed on my arm, but they’re right there in my heart. I never stopped loving you, either, you know.”
Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, and I breathe a little huff full of awe. “Scarlett, I’m so sorry. Whatever you need to do now, I’m with you. One hundred percent. Forever. Okay? I promise.”
That smile is back, and it’s stunning. I kiss her forehead for the only reason that I can’t keep my lips off of her for long, and I also want to watch that smile for a few more minutes.
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” She reaches out her hand and interlaces her fingers with mine. “Come with me?”
“I can try,” I offer. “I doubt they’ll let me in.”
“They will,” she says, and she’s so sure of it. Her eyebrows tick up as she raises her chin in a challenge. “They’ll do what I want.”
It’s hard to argue with that, so hand in hand, we go back upstairs and right into the conference room where the team is, indeed, waiting for her. Trina is already seated, a smug smile curling on her face. Casey is there, too, trying unsuccessfully not to look confused. Meri is representing the publicity team. And Anastasios Martis sits tall in the center of it all, his face giving nothing away.
“Good morning, Ms. Frye,” he greets her before turning his gaze to me. “Mr. Whitlock, thank you for walking her up here, but you’re no longer needed.”
“Ryan stays,” Scarlett states, her voice powerful and clear. Those blue eyes, glittering a few minutes ago, are now cold and unmoving, trained on my boss across the conference table.
Just when I think he’s going to double down, he nods once. “Fine.”
Quickly, I sink into the empty chair in front of me before he can change his mind, but Scarlett remains standing. For a second, I think about standing again, holding her hand and helping her get through this, but I stay where I am. I have to trust that she can do this on her own.
She clears her throat and meets the eyes of each person in the room in turn. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”
“We are glad you called this meeting, actually.” Anastasios motions to one of the others for some papers. “There are a few finer points of your new contract that we’d like to go over—”
“All due respect, Mr. Martis,” she interrupts, “but I’d appreciate it if you would let me talk.”
The entire room goes still. Anastasios sets the papers down with the control of someone who is not used to being talked to like this. But he must also know that his hold on this entire situation is flimsy at best because he folds his hands on the table in front of him and says, “Of course.”
“Thank you.” Scarlett takes a big breath. “Originally, I was coming here today to tell you that I will not be signing a new contract, that I was pulling Becoming from publication. I even had Trina draw up a plan to reimburse you for the resources you’ve already spent on this project so there would be no hard feelings, unlike last time.” Her lips twitch against a grin at her own dry sarcasm, and little bubbles of pride start to rise up in my chest. Even in giving up on this book, she’s not going to let them have any reason to fault her.
Everyone in the room collectively stiffens, but they must read the determined look on her face because no one says anything. She takes a sip of the water on the table in front of her before she continues.
“I know you are aware of Charles Hall’s involvement in all of this. I also know that you, sir”—she addresses Anastasios—“had a major hand in ensuring that the deals he thought he’d get out of his information were rescinded. Thank you for that.”
He nods at her again, this time a small smirk twisting his lips. He must have enjoyed taking that asshole down. I can’t blame him.
“But you never would have known about any of that if it weren’t for Ryan.” Scarlett doesn’t look at me when she says it, but I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s standing tall and powerful, and even though she shifts uncomfortably on her feet, her words are true. She knows what she’s doing.
“I’m not the type of person to say anything when I’ve been wronged. Or, at least, I wasn’t. I hope one day, I can be. But Ryan…he won’t let people like Charles Hall win, and I think that’s admirable. If there were any questions that he has always had not only the best interests of this book at heart but my best interests as well, I would think his willingness to tell you everything that happened despite the fact that you’re unhappy with him should dispel them.”
My brows pinch as I stare up at her. She’s setting something up here, but I don’t know what. Is she trying to save me this time? If that’s the case, I want to jump up and tell her she doesn’t have to.
Anastasios flicks his gaze to me, then back to Scarlett. “I won’t argue with that,” he says.
“Good.” She shifts her feet again and rests her hands on the back of the chair in front of her. “In the interest of full disclosure, Ryan and I were involved when we were both at JMP. Any relationship between us was established long before I signed with you, and I agreed to work with him because I knew he was the best person to work on my book. He only felt the need to disclose our relationship because you accused him of leaking my identity. I need to make it clear that I am not the only one who lost something because of Charles Hall. Ryan did, too. He loves this book as much as I do, and I think Casey would agree that his edits so far have been spot on.”
Casey nods, but my frown deepens. What the hell is she doing here? I take a breath to chime in, but she splays the fingers of the hand at her side closest to me in a signal to keep quiet, so I close my mouth and try my best to stay out of it.
“Ryan went one step further yesterday. He reminded me that men like Charles Hall shouldn’t win. Yes, his deals were rescinded, but if I don’t publish my book, he wins in a different way. I cannot let that happen.” She pulls the chair out and finally sits down, folding her hands in front of her in a move that mirrors Anastasios’s exactly.
My eyes widen in surprise. She’s not pulling her book. Those little bubbles of pride grow so fast, I’m afraid they might burst. And as I look around the table at the eyes trained on her, I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. Trina’s clearly in on this—her smug satisfaction makes sense now. Casey is trying to cover a smile with his hand. Even Meri looks impressed.
She’s going to do this the way she always wanted.
“You want this book.” She says it with a well-earned arrogance. “It will sell. We all know that. Everyone will love—or, at least, be interested in—my comeback story, even if we don’t shove it in their faces on every major network. In fact, people might be even more curious if we leave a little to the imagination, right, Meri?”
“It could work,” the publicist admits.
“It will work, because I’m good at this.” She flashes her sparkly interview smile with a sassy tilt of her head. Casey stifles a chuckle, and Meri huffs, amused. Scarlett turns serious again. “So, I am here to present my terms. They are nonnegotiable. First, we will not rush the release. You have free rein to publish any teasers or reveals you want or do whatever preorder campaigns you think might work, but the timeline remains. We take my pen name off the cover and use my real name from the start. No sense in playing that game anymore. And make it a good cover this time. I’m not an inexperienced author you can push around. Leverage my name in whatever way you choose. I will do one month of pre-release events and one month of post-release events. Two per week, sixteen total. Whichever events, wherever you want, but that’s my limit. After that, I’m coming home”—her voice cracks on the word, but she straightens her shoulders and carries on—“to write the next book. We can see how this goes and negotiate press for that one, but I have to tell you upfront that I won’t be willing to do much more than this.” She looks at me then and smiles. “I have other things I need to focus on.”
“I think we can work with that,” Meri chimes in. “In this case, if we pick the right events, more might not necessarily be better.”
“You’ve made your terms clear, Ms. Frye,” Anastasios says with no little amount of irritation. “We will need to discuss this.”
“Oh, I’m not done.” Scarlett flicks her gaze back to the rest of the table. Trina ticks up an eyebrow, clearly unaware there was more, but Scarlett lifts her chin in determination. “Just one last thing. If you want this book, you’ll let Ryan continue edits. You can kick the next one to whomever you feel is appropriate, but Ryan started this, and I want him to finish it with me.”
Anastasios’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. “We’ll talk about it and get back to you.”
Trina’s eyes bounce back and forth between Scarlett and me before she reclines in her chair and folds her arms over her chest. “You know this book will do exactly what you were expecting it to before. It’ll be good for your imprint and make you a ton of money. With Scarlett Frye’s name on it from the start, you’re in an even better position. I don’t think you understand that she almost quit entirely. As of yesterday afternoon, she was done. You’ve already broken your first contract with her. Someone else will scoop this book up in a heartbeat. She wants to stay here. Do not let her walk out of here without an answer.”
The silence that falls over the room is deafening. My heartbeat roars in my ears. Scarlett reaches over and grabs my hand under the table. She doesn’t look at me, but she squeezes once, and I squeeze back.
Whatever happens, she did exactly what I had hoped she would. She saw the life she wanted, and she reached out and took it.
It seems impossible, but I love her even more now than I did before. This brilliant, beautiful, bold woman is mine. And whatever comes at us now, we can handle it together.
“Okay,” Anastasios finally says. “We will draw up a contract with your terms and send it to your agent to review later today.”
The desire to jump up and whoop into the air is so strong that I have to physically grab the bottom of my chair to keep myself seated. With all the professionalism in the world, Scarlett thanks him, and we all stand to file out of the room.
In the hallway, Casey shakes our hands. Trina gives us hugs. They go back to his office to talk about another writer or something that I am too distracted to remember. I walk out to the parking lot with Scarlett, where I pull her to the side of the building and kiss her senseless. It feels like the perfect outlet for the giddy pride in her that started building while I watched her in that room. Lucky for me, she seems more than willing to kiss me right back.
“You tricked me,” I say into her skin when we come up for air.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your groveling,” she teases.
I nip at her ear. “You’re amazing. I love you.”
“ Love isn’t a strong enough word,” she reminds me with a soft smile.
“No,” I say. “But you’re strong enough. We’re strong enough. And that’s really all that matters.”
“I like that.” She locks eyes with me, and we stand for a moment in the warm sunshine, smiling at each other like fools in love because we are. She may have won today, but I’m the real winner here. This brilliant, beautiful, strong woman is mine.
Eventually, we part ways—me back to the office to finish the edits on her book, and her to my condo to write until I get home. And when I do, I take her in my arms to kiss her and hold her. We eat tacos and make plans for all the things we want to do together, and when words inevitably fail us, as they are known to do, we spend the rest of the night showing each other exactly what it means to love.