Chapter 2 February 4, 2025
-Sadie-
Sadie jolted awake, the relentless buzz of her phone pulling her from her slumber.
She burrowed into the blanket, groaning as a spring from the pullout mattress dug into her side.
Outside she could hear the familiar honking and rumble of early-morning traffic bleeding through the thin apartment windows.
“At least I’m not sleeping in a cardboard box,” she muttered when her phone buzzed again.
Forcing herself to sit up, she reached for the phone as it vibrated with a third text message.
Her stomach churned as she saw the name on the screen.
Her ex-fiancé, Nate, was nothing if not persistent.
There were a half-dozen unread messages, and she had to fight the urge to toss her phone out the window.
She had ended things with Nate last month after nearly a decade.
Their relationship had never been perfect, but in the last few years, any love she might have felt for him had shriveled and died as he started to reveal who he was beneath the fake charm.
When he smashed her laptop in a fit of rage, she had packed her bags and sought refuge at her best friend’s apartment.
Preparing herself for the inevitable, she unlocked her phone and opened the messaging app. Her brows drew together while she read Nate’s latest barrage of texts.
I miss you, Sades. Too quiet here without your nagging.
Found some of those romance novels you love. Meet me later? Enzo’s? Back where it all began?
Even with the way things had ended, she still felt a smile tug faintly at her lips. Enzo’s had been the restaurant where he took her for their first date. Where he’d gushed about her writing and how perfectly they would complement each other with their styles.
That smile faded the moment she read the last two texts.
Ignoring me again?
Whatever, Sades, I’ll torch the fucking trashy books.
“Well, that escalated quickly,” she mumbled. Her tired, puffy eyes stung. This was her reality, and she wasn’t quite sure how she had managed to miss so many red flags over the years.
“I don’t need this first thing in the morning,” she muttered under her breath, putting the phone face down on the table.
Slumping back on the pillows, she covered her eyes with her arm. Jess had been a saint for taking her in. Of course, having a front row for the entirety of the relationship helped her best friend understand just how toxic it had become.
The shuffle of slippered feet snapped Sadie upright. Jess breezed in, chestnut waves teetering in a messy bun, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. The rich aroma cut through the room, and it felt like a lifeline Sadie couldn’t resist.
“Morning, sunshine,” Jess said, her voice carrying a forced cheeriness.
There were dark circles under Jess’s eyes, too.
Sadie knew she had been up half the night preparing for a board meeting.
In addition to being her best friend, Jess was also Sadie’s boss, and the board of the publishing house was getting ready to hold their quarterly meeting.
Jess placed one mug on the cluttered side table, and added, “How’s my favorite houseguest doing?”
Sadie tried to muster a smile, her voice croaking when she replied, “Oh, you know, living the dream. Not that I’m not grateful. You ready for today?”
“As I can be with the board breathing down my neck,” Jess said, taking a sip of her coffee. The phone buzzed again, and Jess’s eyebrows knitted together as she perched on the edge of the couch. “Let me guess,” she said with a quirked eyebrow, “Captain Douchebag?”
Sadie shook her head in exasperation, looking at the phone on the table.
“Isn’t it always?” she whispered, hating how weak she sounded. “I didn’t answer him, so I’m sure he’s now in a full rage spiral.”
“That vile asshole doesn’t get to win.” Jess’s expression hardened. “Not after everything he’s put you through.”
Sadie’s stomach churned as she remembered the last time she had tried to share something she wrote with him.
Stick to editing, Sades, Nate had said, your little stories don’t exactly scream genius. After years of hearing the same message from him time and time again, she had started to honestly believe it.
“Ignore him,” Jess continued, gently turning Sadie’s chin so she would look at her. “I have something far more worthy of your time to discuss.”
Before Sadie could respond, Jess was in motion, disappearing into the living room. She returned with her sleek work laptop, unceremoniously plopping on the mattress next to Sadie.
“Right,” Jess announced, rubbing her hands together eagerly. “I think I have the perfect distraction for you, courtesy of my favorite literary hermit.”
“What?” Sadie blinked, momentarily thrown by the abrupt change of subject.
“Corbyn Pearce,” Jess said, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “He’s run off another developmental editor. I’ve been trying to buy him time to finish his latest manuscript, but the board is losing patience.”
Despite herself, Sadie felt a flicker of curiosity.
“Wait… Corbyn Pearce? The Corbyn Pearce? As in the man whose last murder mystery sold a million copies on the first day?”
“You’re the only one I trust to handle this, Sadie,” Jess said, her tone serious though she avoided meeting Sadie’s eyes directly. “Pearce is a handful, but you’ve got a saint’s patience. I still remember how you saved Stella Adkins’ book last year when everyone else was ready to toss it.”
“You’re not telling me something,” Sadie said, recognizing the avoidance and the attempt at flattery. “How many editors has he gone through?”
Jess winced, her tone sheepish when she replied, “You’re the fourth since New Year’s. But I genuinely think you can reach him where the others couldn’t.”
“Jess, please tell me you’re not asking what I think you’re asking,” Sadie groaned, knowing her friend too well.
“You, my dear couch surfer, are my editing ace,” Jess said with a smirk. “You’ve tamed worse than Pearce. Plus, the board is convinced that his comeback novel could be the title of the decade. You are the only one who can drag this project across the finish line.”
Sadie couldn’t help but snort at that.
“Plus,” Jess continued, “here’s your shot to wrangle someone who actually gets things done, instead of just whining about it.”
She meant Nate. Sadie had spent years trying to help him find the inspiration to finish a project… any project. It had never ended well.
“I…” Sadie started to protest, but stopped when she saw the hopeful look on Jess’s face. “So, how do I do this? Call him up? Or does he only do smoke signals and carrier pigeons?”
Jess’s expression turned sheepish, and she replied, “I thought it might be better if you took a little all-expense paid working vacation. You know, Great Missenden’s supposedly very quaint.”
The words cut through Sadie’s mental fog, and she blinked, trying desperately to process what Jess had said.
“Great… Missenden?”
“Yep,” Jess said, popping the ‘p’ with relish. “Cute little town in Buckinghamshire. Roald Dahl country. Just imagine the inspiration!”
Sadie’s mind whirled, and she stammered, “But… Corbyn Pearce? There?”
“He’s holed up in some rickety cottage, probably scribbling with quills by candlelight,” Jess chuckled, typing something on her computer.
“Your job is to drag him, kicking and screaming if necessary, into the 21st century and finish his book. You would be saving me from an early grave, and who knows? Maybe you’ll find your own muse while you’re at it. ”
“I don’t know, Jess, this is pretty sudden,” Sadie began, doubt gnawing away at her gut. Nate’s voice rang through her mind again, her confidence faltering. “I have a pile of manuscripts on my desk…”
“Which I am currently working on reassigning to the rest of our team,” Jess interrupted as Sadie’s phone buzzed with an email notification. “Surprise! Your chariot to Heathrow awaits. You leave tonight.”
Sadie’s eyes widened as she looked at her phone. The email was from British Airways confirming her travel plans.
“Tonight? But…”
“Your lease with Nate doesn’t end for another two months,” Jess interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. “And as your best friend, I think you need to get off this sofa before you sprout couch potatoes.”
Sadie glanced around the cluttered space, over the stacks of books and half-unpacked boxes. She had tried to settle in and wait out the lease, but the truth was that being surrounded by the mess had kept her in a spiral of self-doubt for the last month.
“I need you on this project, Sadie,” Jess’s uncharacteristically serious tone pulled her from her thoughts, “and you need to do something other than mope on my sofa bed.”
A watery chuckle escaped Sadie’s lips. “Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it,” Jess insisted. “This isn’t just about Pearce and his book. It’s about you, too. It’ll give you a chance to heal, without having to worry that Nate might be lurking around the next corner.”
“Not to mention I’d be saving your ass with the board,” Sadie replied before exhaling sharply.
Jess grinned, laughing a bit when she responded, “Yes, that too. Come on, Sadie, you used to talk all the time about going back to England. Back in freshman year, we couldn’t get you to shut up about the trip you took in high school.
” Jess’s smile turned mischievous before she added, “Do you remember that red hair you used to rock? Before Mr. Moody convinced you it was ‘too attention-seeking’?”
Despite herself, Sadie felt a smile tugging at her lips.
“God, I haven’t thought about that in ages. I looked like a deranged matchstick.”
“You looked fierce,” Jess corrected. “You were fierce, and you will be again. Great Missenden won’t know what hit it.”
“Okay, I’ll go,” Sadie told her, her voice shaky.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but beneath that, she felt something stirring in her chest. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Jess didn’t miss a beat, yanking her into a hug. Sadie half-collapsed into it, the smell of coffee and faded lavender shampoo grounding her.
“You’re gonna nail this,” Jess muttered, words muffled against Sadie’s rat’s nest of hair. “No one else I’d bet on, not even close.”
“What if I screw it up?” Sadie’s voice came out small, mashed against Jess’s shoulder, doubt clawing at her. “Pearce’ll probably despise me.”
Jess eased back, hazel eyes glinting with that troublemaker spark.
“Then we’ll pin it on jet lag and mail him a pigeon with an apology note. But you won’t tank it—you’re Sadie Reed, the writer-wrangler extraordinaire.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across Sadie’s face. “I think that title’s a bit much.”
“Nonsense,” Jess declared. “I’m having business cards made.”
“Thanks,” Sadie whispered, her breath unsteady.
Jess squeezed her hand. “That’s what friends are for. Now, let’s get you packed. Great Missenden awaits, and it’s your chance to show that sad excuse of an ex what Sadie Reed is really made of.”
Sadie rose and met Jess’s gaze, a spark of hope lifting the weight she had been carrying around for months, possibly even years. Jess was right; she did need this, and Corbyn Pearce was about to be beaten at his own stubborn game.