Chapter 20
When Monday arrives, Ryan hands me a check the moment after I walk through the door.
After two weeks, it’s my first official paycheck but when I open it there are a few too many zeroes. “What’s this?”
He squints. “I’m no accountant, but it looks like a check.”
“But I didn’t expect this much.”
He’s again sitting at the dining table in the middle of his mess. There’s a laptop open in front of him but he still takes a moment to look up and nod.
“I added more than we originally agreed, since that was before you decided to help save my reputation.” He picks up the coffee I’ve brought him. “Did you get my order right this time?”
Once. I got his order wrong once and I still blame the barista.
“I’ll try not to be offended by your lack of faith.” I cross my arms as he takes a sip. “It’s been right the last two times. Black, two creams, no sugar.”
He nods and goes back to his laptop.
I have much to do, like check my emails for anything Pepper has scheduled for Elizabeth.
I’ve got interview questions to answer from a major book influencer who has asked to do a podcast about me.
I’m firmly in my Elizabeth Brogan era and interested in seeing how it all works from the side of an author who’s been successful.
And I should really respond to Holly’s email. Late last night, I came up with a plausible explanation.
To: inthequerytrenches@yahoo
From: theghostwriter@hotmail
Re: WTAF
Dear Holly,
I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you any of this, but this was one of those “sooper” secret projects you hear about sometimes.
You know, all that vague publishing news?
The agent and publisher asked me not to talk about it.
I didn’t tell anyone, or I would have told you!
I couldn’t let anyone know because I was so nervous about writing a book only from the hero’s POV.
It’s different from anything I’ve ever done, as you will see when you read it.
Please forgive the oversight. I want to share everything I can with you now, so please ask me anything.
As you can imagine, I honestly never thought to dream this big.
That a lie. Unlike so many other authors, apparently I dream big. Then I realize I should say something far more important.
By the way, I’m no longer getting married.
Sorry I lied. It’s been six months now, but that’s why I’ve gone IG silent.
Chris decided he wanted to join the Peace Corps instead of getting married.
I thought he was being magnanimous but he actually met a woman at the coffee shop we frequented.
And he went with her. So, there you have it.
I’m a romance writer without a man. Is that an oxymoron? Also, please forgive me.
I revise the email about three times, more than I ever do with Holly, but I finally hit send.
Now, I need to thank Ryan. Properly.
I sit on the chair beside Ryan to get his attention and eventually have to clear my throat for him to look up. “Your generosity. It’s more than I could have hoped.”
“You mean from a guy who went on a rant about romance books?” He smirks. “You’re working for me; I have to pay you. It’s the law.”
“But you didn’t have to pay me this much.”
“Does this mean your situation will be better now?”
“It’s as if a year’s worth of savings dropped in my lap.”
“Good. I don’t think it’s fair what your ex did. I’m glad I can be the one to help fix it.”
“Get ready, professor, because a hug is incoming,” I warn him with a twitch of my finger.
“O-kay,” he says slowly, drawing out the word. “But not necessary.”
I expect this to be deep in the awkward zone of human hugs but I’m going to do it anyway.
I’m already sitting next to him, so all that’s required is to move closer and throw my arms around his shoulders.
I don’t even have to move all that close, turns out.
Somehow the distance between us has lessened and the hug is easy.
Effortless. That’s when it occurs to me Ryan leaned.
He leaned in for the hug and it’s the same lean we discussed the day on the beach, when a man is interested.
Does he even realize he leaned in? It’s probably my loneliness that’s reading a lot more into this. Maybe, for once, my mother is right.
The hug takes longer than I expected, as his embrace is warm and firm, his arms pausing to linger on my waist. I don’t want to stop touching him and at this moment it has nothing to do with his generosity.
It has to do with the way he smells of fresh clean soap and rays of sunshine.
I have to stop, eventually, and I do, but not before there’s a small moment between us when I pull away.
I catch something in his gaze I haven’t seen before, which, in any other man, I’d call desire.
Longing. But I’m sure this is more of my active imagination working.
I simply have a ridiculous crush on a man who’s attractive, knows how to apologize, loves books, and is generous to boot.
I need to leave it at that. Perhaps technically he’s my dream man, but this can’t go anywhere so it’s best to squash this fantasy.
I abruptly stand and walk to the other side of the table “I better get started answering those interview questions for the podcast. They sent them ahead of time.”
Ryan shoves a stack of papers toward me. “That’s what I’ve written so far, the stuff Kate hates.”
“She did not hate it, but I’ll take a look.” I flip through the pages, anxious to read.
“And after that,” he says with a bit of a smirk.
“You might want to start plotting the sequel to the book. I’m not telling Kate, but if you can write something similar enough to what I wrote, I don’t see why you can’t be the one with the next contract.
Elizabeth Brogan doesn’t have to be a one-hit wonder if you’d like to continue writing under the name. ”
I try to imagine taking over as Elizabeth Brogan in perpetuity.
It wouldn’t be any different from authors who take on a nom d’ plume.
It would be the opportunity of a lifetime, and I can’t refuse to consider it.
If I do, it comes down to being too precious.
I don’t want to copy his voice and that would never work anyway.
But if I don’t at least try to write the sequel I so desperately want to happen I’ll never forgive myself.
I’m obviously not going to convince him to do it.
“What if we do it together?” I ask.
His brow furrows. “Do what together?”
“Write the book. The sequel.”
He groans. “Not me. I thought you would be happy about this.”
“Hang on, you haven’t heard my suggestion. I’ll do the hard work, but I just want your input. I’m awful at plotting a straight contemporary so you can edit, and I’ll write.”
He seems to consider it then shrugs. “Long as I don’t have to write it.”
We both get to work and a couple of hours later, I’ve finished answering the questions for the podcast and trying my best to make my boring life sound fascinating. It’s not easy but fortunately I write fiction.
“I have to run an errand,” Ryan says as he’s gathering his keys and wallet. “If I’m not back in a couple of hours, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“When you get back, I’ll have my comments on your pages.”
“Great,” he says and is out the door.
His “great” didn’t sound all that enthusiastic if I’m honest. Either way, I don’t take it personally.
Instead, I dive into Ryan’s new story. I’m immediately drawn to the main character, who’s working in the shipyards of Richmond during war time.
Ryan is particularly skilled at bringing a setting to life, a weakness of mine.
But it isn’t until chapter two that he introduces another main character who clearly has possibilities of being the love interest. As I read on, it becomes unclear whether or not these two will actually be involved. I furiously write notes in the margins of how Ryan might improve the connection.
“Remember the lean,” I write in the column and add a wink emoji. He will know what I mean. He’s got to add in movements and gestures that will indicate the first level of interest from the hero. It can be hand holding, hugging, any kind of touching before the kiss that changes things.
My phone pings while I’m editing, a text from Pepper.
Please don’t worry about the latest trade review and if you can possibly hide it from Ryan, do. I know the critic, and he doesn’t like anything. No big surprise or loss here. Sales are still stellar.
Okay, what? I drop what I’m doing and follow the link she provided to read the review:
The latest splash in the romance world fails in many ways.
I don’t know where to begin. Yes, it’s a different concept.
Tell the story from the lovesick hero’s point of view.
But honestly, this mess is like reading someone’s diary, first person point of view included.
There’s little plot, and what there is of it is a tough slog.
I’m not surprised it hits all the feels for those interested in angsty and emotional journeys but it would help if it were well written, at least. Even the title makes me cringe.
Soulmates? There is no such thing, as our poor and utterly ineffective hero soon discovers.
The woman he loves is a shrew even if he can’t see it.
Finally, we have a woman writing a man’s point of view but as with almost all romance, it does not at all realistically portray the man. I have to give this my lowest grade. D-