Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
Melody thought it would be easier to write with sex on the brain. Turns out she was wrong on that account. The last forty-eight hours, Nate had been super busy. Some family stuff, apparently. And she had been tasked with doing what she could on the manuscript.
Except she couldn't do anything. Anything other than imagine Nate naked in his office.
Desperate to get back to work on the book, Melody decided to retreat to her own kitchen, in the hopes of not accepting coffee from a barista while in the middle of a particularly saucy flashback.
This morning, the lack of caffeine in her system was the only thing keeping those damn daydreams at bay.
In fact, she was in the middle of a particularly intense battle with her cappuccino maker when her phone erupted into an obnoxious rendition of "Eye of the Tiger." Nate's ringtone.
Because nothing says 'publishing mogul' like an '80s workout anthem. And nothing says ‘stop writing the sexy novel you’ve been working on’ quite like your sexy novel-inspiration letting you know he’s thinking of you.
Melody bit her lip as she tightened her hold on her cell phone.
"Hey, stranger,” she practically purred as she answered, wedging the damn square between her ear and shoulder as she coaxed caffeine from the stubborn machine.
She waited, but there was no answer. “Oh my God.
Nate, if you're calling after all this time to critique my use of semicolons again, I swear I'll—"
"Melody," Nate's voice cut her off, sounding strained and... was that a tremor she heard? "We need to talk."
The serious tone in his voice made her abandon her caffeine quest. "Nate? What's wrong?"
What followed was a torrent of words that made her head spin.
Nate recounted his confrontation with his father, each revelation feeling like an emotional implosion. By the time he finished, Melody was sitting on her kitchen floor, surrounded by the scattered remains of her coffee-making attempts.
"So let me get this straight," she said, trying to process everything. "Your father's been secretly sabotaging our work, you confronted him, and now you've basically been kicked out of the family business?"
"That about sums it up," Nate replied, his voice hollow.
Melody felt a wave of guilt wash over her. "Nate, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so stubborn about my book—"
"Stop right there. This isn't your fault, Melody. My father's resistance to change has been building for years. Your book was just the catalyst."
"Great. So I'm not the cause, I'm just the straw that broke the camel's back. That makes me feel so much better."
Nate sighed. "Melody, please. I don't regret standing up for our vision. For your book."
His words warmed her, but the guilt lingered. "What are you going to do now?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I don't know. I meant what I said about starting my own publishing company, but... it's not going to be easy."
Melody closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words. "Nate, maybe... maybe we should reconsider. I could make the changes your father wants. It's not ideal, but if it would fix things with your family—"
"Absolutely not," Nate's voice was firm. "We're not compromising your vision. Not after everything we've fought for."
Melody wanted to argue, but the determination in his voice stopped her. "Okay. So what's our next move?"
"I need some time to figure things out," Nate said. "Can we meet tomorrow? There's a lot we need to discuss."
They agreed on a time and place, and as Melody hung up, her mind was whirling with possibilities and fears. She glanced at her laptop, where her manuscript sat open. The words that once filled her with excitement now seemed tainted by the drama they'd caused.
Before she could spiral further into guilt, she did what any sensible author would do in a crisis: she called her agent.
Carmen picked up on the second ring. "Melody, darling! To what do I owe the pleasure? Please tell me you've finished another chapter. The suspense is killing me!"
"Carmen," Melody cut in, "we've got a situation."
She filled Carmen in on the Carlisle family drama, her words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. When she finished, there was a long pause on the other end of the line.
"Well," Carmen finally said, "I always said you had a flair for drama, but this is taking it to new heights."
Melody groaned. "Carmen, be serious. What should I do? I'm thinking of terminating my contract with Carlisle Publishing. It seems like the only way to fix this mess."
"Hold your horses, Shakespeare," Carmen interrupted. "Let's not do anything rash. Tell me, how do you feel about Nate's idea of starting his own publishing company?"
Melody blinked, surprised by the question. "I... I don't know. It sounds risky."
"Risky, yes," Carmen agreed. "But also potentially brilliant. Think about it, Melody. A publishing house built on the principles you and Nate have been fighting for. It could revolutionize the industry."
Melody felt a spark of excitement at her words, quickly doused by doubt. "But what if it fails? I'd be jeopardizing my career, not to mention Nate's."
"Honey, you're a writer. Your entire career is one big risk. The question you have to ask yourself is this a risk worth taking?"
Melody mulled over her words, thinking about everything Nate and she had been through. The late-night editing sessions, the heated debates, the shared triumphs. And underneath it all, the growing connection between them that had become impossible to ignore.
"I think it might be," she admitted softly.
"Well then," Carmen said, and Melody could hear the smile in her voice, "I think you have your answer."
After hanging up with Carmen, Melody paced her apartment, attempting to untangle her thoughts. The responsible thing would be to back out, to stick with the established publishing house and not rock the boat. But when had she ever done the responsible thing?
She thought about Nate, about the passion in his voice when he talked about changing the industry.
She thought about her book, about the vision they'd fought so hard to protect. And she thought about the spark between them, the one that had grown from a professional connection into something much deeper.
Taking a deep breath, Melody made her decision. It was risky, potentially disastrous, and definitely not the safe choice. In other words, it was exactly the kind of plot twist she'd write for her characters.
She grabbed her phone, typing out a message to Nate.
I’m in. Whatever crazy scheme you're cooking up, count me in.
But fair warning: if this all goes south, I'm writing a scathing tell-all about the publishing industry. Working title: 'Fifty Shades of Ink.'
As she hit send, her heart danced an unfamiliar rhythm. Now, if she could just figure out how to work this damn cappuccino maker, she'd be all set to face whatever challenges lay ahead. After all, no great literary revolution was ever staged without proper caffeination.