CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“I’m so sorry.” It’s probably the seventh or maybe eighth time I’ve said that since Maggie called, but it doesn’t seem like I could possibly say it enough. “Seriously, this is all my fault.”
“Like I’ve told you already, this is nothing we haven’t seen before.”
“So, what’s going to happen? What can I do about this?”
“You can finish the book,” she says with her usual snappy attitude, very direct.
And because she’s so no-nonsense, I can breathe. The weight on my shoulders and chest eases. I imagined her taking this out on me, blaming me for this, telling me I should have been smarter or more careful. The fact that she hasn’t done that yet bolsters my confidence a little.
“Okay. I mean, I was already planning on doing that.”
“Good. Full steam ahead. His lawyer can say whatever he likes. There’s nothing in the book to identify him in any way, so he can claim all he wants that it’s about him, and we can just as easily say it’s not. And even if it were, there’s nothing derogatory about him. Nothing to tarnish his image.”
I have to laugh at that. “His image. Give me a break.”
“Honestly, Kitty, I would’ve chosen someone a little higher up on the food chain if it were up to me.”
Yep, she had to find some way to remind me how I’d messed up.
But here’s the thing: I’m only doing this because she told me I had to if I wanted to keep getting published.
“I’m sorry. I lost my address book with the names and numbers of every popular musician in the world. What was I thinking?”
It takes a second for her to get it together. Understandable since that’s the first time I’ve ever taken a tone with her. “Excuse me, I think you forget who you’re talking to.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. But how was I supposed to find a famous musician to date? The best I was ever going to do was somebody trying to stage a comeback.”
“Perhaps, from now on, you should stick to normal people. Regular people. Firefighters, police officers, members of the military. People who aren’t going to try to bleed us dry.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Honestly, it’s not worth the hassle. That entire lifestyle. I could never be part of it.”
“But you are part of it—at least, somewhat. You aren’t a nobody.”
“That’s the beauty of being a writer. Unless you’re a complete superstar, you can enjoy a little bit of anonymity. I like my life the way it is.”
“What a shame this isn’t the plot of some feel-good movie of the week.” Maggie laughs. “We could all sit back and say we’ve learned a lesson from this while stirring music swells in the background.”
It wouldn’t be a good idea to get snappy with her again since I called her just as soon as I got home last night and left the most rambling voice mail she’d probably ever received. It’s not even noon, and she already has the situation under control.
She’s difficult at times, and I never quite know how to read her, but Maggie’s one of the best for a reason.
“And hey! If all else fails, we can always get Blake to take care of things.”
Yes, she would have to remind me that I once dated the owner of the publishing house.
“Good-bye, Maggie. More writing to do and all that.”
When the call’s over, I slump in my chair with my eyes closed, saying every prayer of thanks I can come up with. I spent the night fearing the worst, which means I got almost no sleep.
And that’s just fantastic since tonight’s the Halloween party at Hayley’s firm.
Frankly, I can’t believe she’d expect me to show my face now. By now, I'm sure people have heard about the whole thing with Dustin since Todd wants lawyers to get involved. It’s all too complicated and embarrassing.
After begging her to let me off the hook, she assured me that everyone knows how stupid those two are for thinking they’ll get anything out of it. She promised we’ll only hang out long enough to be seen since not showing up would make it look like I’m hiding and embarrassed.
Which I am, for heaven’s sake, but she refuses to sympathize.
I don’t get her sometimes. I was a devastated wreck last night—not because of any feelings for Dustin, but because of how deeply he’d wounded my pride. How he’d lied to me, pretended to be somebody he wasn’t.
And she expects me to go out and have a good time tonight?
There’s still work I need to get done before I can even think about going out. Namely, the writing of my happily ever after, the scene that opens the door for my hero and heroine to walk off into the sunset together.
Sappy love stories.
Ugh, he’s in my head, the idiot! I need to push him out of the way, so I can do my work. My important, well-read work. Work people love. Work that means something.
The jerk. The creep. Couldn’t he have at least waited until I wrote this scene before showing me his true colors?
I might’ve been able to get through it without wanting to throw myself out the window.
It’s just that the entire time I’ve been writing these characters, I’ve imagined them as Dustin and me.
I think it was different this time than it was with the last two guys. This was intensely personal for me since Dustin had already meant something. He had for years. The others I had just met.
I was setting myself up for failure all along.
Still, the words eventually start to flow. And then they stop. And then I delete a paragraph but come up with something better. I slowly shape and polish the scene and plumb the depths of my soul to figure out how to describe what my heroine is feeling.
How would I feel if this were me? If things had gone right?
The strangest feeling of the past and the present sliding together, connecting like two pieces of a puzzle, enveloped her as he took her in his arms and swore to love her for always. For the rest of his life. Because she was worth protecting, worth cherishing. She was worth the world to him.
Just like she had always wanted to be.
Okay. Not bad. Maybe not great, not yet, but I’m getting there.
Just in time, too, since I have to get ready for that darn party. If ever there was a night I needed to sit at home and binge on chocolate, this would be that night. But no. I have to show my face at a party I didn’t want to go to before one of the firm’s clients threatened legal action against me.
It makes getting into my slinky dress that much less of a thrill.
An hour. She promised we’d stay for an hour.
There’s a knock at the door around seven thirty. Hayley said she’d pick me up just before eight. For a moment, I wonder if it’s Dustin. That he wants to make up or at least smooth things over.
But I’m not a complete idiot. It would never happen.
And it’s not happening because Hayley’s at the door.
Conspicuously un-costumed.
“Um, you’re not dressed. Or made up. What’s going on?”
She’s wearing a sweater and jeans and carrying a backpack over one shoulder. Not exactly what I expected.
“Are you supposed to be a student? I don’t get it.”
“You’ll never guess what happened.” She comes in like a storm, setting her bag on the floor and whirling around to face me.
“You could try telling me.”
“Guess who’s providing entertainment at the party. On the yacht.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“I wish I were. But no. Dustin’s the musician they hired for when people go out on the water. I mean, Dustin? What the hell is this all about? Why would anybody want to listen to him at the firm’s Halloween party?”
“Maybe they want a good scare?”
Hayley bursts out laughing. “I guess so!”
I can’t help it. I join in. We both crack up until tears roll down our cheeks and we have to lean on each other for support even though nothing that just happened is particularly funny.
Because I’m laughing at a man whose music I loved before last night. At least, I told myself I did. Now, I’m making jokes about it. Life is weird.
“Needless to say”—Hayley wipes the tears from her cheeks—“we’re not going. I wouldn’t go to that party now if you paid me—even though I’d love to push him off the yacht. The temptation would be too strong. I can’t put myself in that sort of dire situation.”
“Thank God for that. I’m going to go change out of this outfit real quick.” I run into my room and yell back, “What do you have in mind?”
“An at-home girls’ night. What do you think?”
I think she’s the best friend I could ever ask for since she’s not the type to stay at home. Especially not on Halloween.
“That sounds good to me. As long as you actually want to.”
“Girl, I need to.” So much so, I guess, that by the time I join her in the living room again, she’s already wearing pajamas.
“It’s not every day I get a chance like this.
I thought I was gonna have to spend the night in heels, fake smiling at people I see every day.
Now, I get to be comfy and hang out with you. ”
Yeah, she’s pretty much the best.
“There’s nothing better than the feeling you get after you’ve canceled plans, is there?” I ask, sliding down onto the couch next to her.
“Well, actually, there is,” she counters. “It’s that feeling you get when your best friend comes prepared.”
I squint my eyes at her, not following, but then she picks up her backpack and pulls out two bottles of wine.
“One for me and one for you,” she says, screwing off the lid and handing me one. “We don’t even need glasses.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Hayley,” I say sincerely.
“Well, who needs stupid boys anyway?”
“Uh, I do. You know, to write my books.”
She clinks her bottle against mine and says, “To the next hottie then.”