Long Story Short

1. Josie

ONE

JOSIE

My heart plummets to my stomach as I stare at the group of people across the table from me.

“What did you say?” I ask, hating the slight tremble to my voice. I can’t help it. I don’t think I’ve had a solid night’s sleep in at least two weeks, and today was supposed to feel like a relief. Instead, I’m getting some of the worst news imaginable.

The man directly across from me clears his throat as he leans back in his chair. “We think you need to scrap this manuscript and start over.”

I close my eyes for a moment, desperately trying to keep my emotions at bay despite the words he’s saying. I take a deep breath before opening my eyes and directing my gaze at the man once again.

“Scrap it? Completely?” My words come out barely above a whisper.

The man—Eli—nods. The gesture is like a punch to the gut. The news is even worse coming from him.

I swallow, resisting the urge to ask if the reason he’s telling me to rework a manuscript I’ve poured myself into the last six months is because I broke up with him a month ago.

I rip my gaze from the head of marketing at my publishing house—who also happens to be my ex-boyfriend—and look at my editor instead.

Stevie has been with me from the very beginning.

I owe my entire career to her. She discovered me and believed in me when no one else did.

I can’t wrap my head around her wanting to start over on the book I just spent six months writing.

“Stevie,” I manage to get out. “Do you agree? I need to start over?”

Her eyes soften, and her hesitance to answer right away tells me everything I need to know.

I have to completely rewrite a book.

“I think scrapping it is harsh,” Stevie finally says. She pauses for a moment as if carefully choosing her next words. I can tell just by her cautious tone that she’s trying to handle this situation delicately.

Eventually, she swipes a hand over her mouth and lets out a small sigh before she speaks again. “We just need a little more.”

Eli scoffs, and the sound makes me wonder what I ever saw in him.

In my defense, I was a young debut author just brought on by a publisher.

He was the head of marketing who took a liking to me immediately.

I should’ve seen the red flags from a mile away, but I was naive, and as a romance author, I wanted to believe in a fairy tale.

It’s my job to look at love through rose-colored glasses, and that’s exactly what I did when it came to the man sitting across from me.

But two years later, his inability to even admit to anyone that we were dating and had been for a while was enough for me to finally rip the glasses off and leave him.

When I ended things between us, I thought he could continue to be professional.

Despite us living together, he always remained by the book at work.

He made sure no one knew we were involved.

But now that I’ve broken up with him, his professionalism has gone out the window.

At least, that’s what it feels like right now.

If anyone else in the meeting finds his sudden sour attitude toward me strange, they don’t give any indication about it.

“What do you mean by more?” I ask, my gaze locked on Stevie.

I refuse to look at Eli. It feels like he’s trying to find ways to upset me, and I don’t want to give him what he wants.

I can’t handle thinking too deeply about his demeanor right now because I’m too caught up in worrying about the fact that I’m supposed to rewrite a whole book in a short amount of time.

Stevie’s shoulders slump a little as she watches me closely.

“It just needs more. Don’t get me wrong, the bones are there.

But your readers are used to yearning, intensity, passion.

Where you can feel the love between the characters.

The sexual tension in your other books pretty much drips off the page. This book doesn’t quite have that…yet.”

Eli lets out another scoff. This one is louder and even more dramatic than the first.

I can’t help it. My gaze rips from Stevie and lands on Eli. He stares back at me with a cocky smirk, as if he knows he’s getting under my skin, even though I’m desperately trying to hide it.

He throws his hands in the air for a moment, trying to seem casual but dismissive with his next words. “Everyone in marketing agrees we can’t put money into this book. It’d flop. Readers would be disappointed, and we’d be throwing money at nothing.”

I bite my tongue. My jaw tenses so hard that it hurts, but I manage to keep my mouth shut as I try to gather my composure.

Before I broke up with Eli, he loved the concept of this book, helping me brainstorm some of the ideas.

He even read most of the book—well, everything up until I called it off between us.

Never once did he tell me it felt like there wasn’t any connection between the characters.

But now, apparently, it’s so bad that his team won’t even market it unless there are changes.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I finally get out. I try to keep my voice composed, but despite my effort, my words come out shakier than I’d like. Maybe if I’d had more sleep recently, I’d be able to handle the criticism better, but right now, it’s taking everything in me to keep myself together.

“I agree with Stevie,” Mandi, Stevie’s assistant, chimes in. “I think the foundation for the love story is beautiful. I just want to see the connection between the two of them. I need more passion. The stakes need to be higher. The intensity needs to ramp up.”

I let out a long breath of air. With each second that passes, and with each small amount of breath I let out, I feel my ego deflate.

I knew there were some things I needed to work on during edits to strengthen the book, but I didn’t expect everyone to tell me that I needed to basically rewrite a manuscript I just spent months of my life on.

It’s defeating. I’d gone into this meeting thinking I’d be in developmental edits for the next month and that I’d have some time to myself. Time to relax. Instead, the book can’t even go into developmental because I have to go back to rewriting the whole thing completely.

“We don’t want to get behind on our schedule.

The team will need the book in six weeks’ time so we can market it for the current scheduled release,” Eli states.

It’s as if he’s trying to pile on and add to my stress.

There’s a coldness to his tone that’s new.

He always spoke professionally while we were at work, but now there’s ice laced in every single one of his words.

It takes me off guard. Since I’ve been in the depths of deadline hell, everyone at my publisher has left me alone, knowing I was trying to finish a book, Eli included.

His silence made me think that maybe he did respect my decision to leave him.

I thought his absence meant we could still work together in a professional capacity, and things would be fine.

Now, I can’t help but wonder if he thought that if he left me alone, once I finished the book, I’d miss him and come running back.

I haven’t missed him once, and I think he’s realized that and is taking it out on me.

“You want me to rewrite the book in six weeks?” I sit up and straighten my spine in an attempt to pretend I’m feeling more confident than I am.

I can’t help but hide the disbelief in my words.

It takes me twelve weeks minimum to write a book, and even that is pushing it.

This one took me six months from start to finish.

I can’t write an entire book in six weeks.

It just isn’t possible. I don’t even know if I can completely rework a manuscript in that time frame.

“Four weeks would be preferable,” Eli harshly mutters under his breath. “But six will do.”

I blink. For a few moments, all I do is stare at him, trying to remember why I was with him in the first place.

I should’ve known better than to get involved with someone I worked with.

Because I still owe three books to my publishing house, I’m stuck being around him for the foreseeable future.

I knew it might be slightly awkward between us, but I never thought things would be like this. That he’d act so hostile toward me.

But I also didn’t expect him to hide our relationship from the rest of the world for two years either. It’s odd how you can spend that much time with someone and still feel like you don’t really know them at all.

“I know this is asking a lot of you,” Stevie interjects, stealing my attention.

Some of the tension between my shoulder blades relaxes when I meet her comforting gaze.

No matter how much Eli is annoying me, I know deep down that Stevie is in my corner.

She’s believed in me from the very beginning, and if she agrees with Eli that the book needs some work, then that’s what I’ll do.

She gives me a reassuring smile, further easing some of the tension in my body.

“And I’m here to help you every step of the way during the next six weeks.

We can go over plot, if you want to, and talk through things in depth to really home in on what the manuscript needs to get to the same intensity as your previous books. ”

I nod as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

I’m still trying to process everything they’re saying.

“Okay,” I respond weakly. I wish my literary agent, Rachel, who is out of the country for business, were here to provide insight on everything, but she will be my first call once I leave the meeting.

Right now, I don’t have much say in anything except that I’ll do my best to get them a better manuscript in six weeks.

It’s quiet around the table; no one seems to want to speak up at the moment.

I welcome the silence as I try to gather my thoughts.

Part of me wants to argue and push back, but the other part of me just wants out of this room.

Once I’ve had time to process their words, I’ll send an email—or have my agent do it—and find out what exact changes need to be made.

But right now, with the rapid beat of my pulse, and the way my head is starting to ache from the way I’ve been grinding my teeth, I think the best thing for me to do is to end the meeting.

“Please send whatever notes you have for the manuscript to me, and I’ll review them.

” I keep my voice steady and my eyes trained on Stevie.

I only need to keep myself composed a little longer before I’ll be out of this room and away from all of their inquisitive stares.

Then I’ll finally be able to let my emotions bubble over.

Until that moment, I’ll hold on to a week’s worth of pent-up stress and lack of sleep and keep my shit together for a little longer.

Stevie’s eyebrows pull together on her forehead as she slowly begins to nod. “I’ll make sure to get all of that over to you and give you everything you’ll need to feel good about revisiting the manuscript.”

I stand up and force a smile in Stevie’s direction. “Thank you. I’m going to head out, then.” I force my smile even wider in an attempt to make it seem like I’m doing better than I actually am.

“You don’t want to talk more? Plan it out?” Eli cuts in.

I refuse to look at him. I know he’s head of marketing, but it feels odd to even have him in this meeting to begin with.

Manuscript notes have always been given to me by Stevie.

She reports back on what everyone else is thinking.

Any notes I ever got from Eli were done at home and on our personal time, never at work.

“I’ve got to get going,” I lie. I have no other plans for the day. I did it that way on purpose. I wanted to have the meeting and not think about work again until Monday morning, when I took Stevie’s notes and edited the manuscript. I wanted the rest of this Friday to be spent doing nothing.

It was supposed to be a bed-rotting day. There’s an endless number of podcasts and TV shows I’ve missed because of being on a deadline. I was going to catch up on all of that. I was going to take a nap.

A nap. I stifle a groan as I think about how much I was looking forward to a nap.

Now, my only plan is to get the hell out of this room so I can be alone and cry.

Eli clears his throat as if he’s about to say something else, but I don’t give him the chance.

I turn on my heels and hurriedly walk out of the conference room. I know people must be staring, but I don’t even care. I can’t care. My eyes sting with unshed tears as reality sinks in.

I’m going to have to do the impossible.

I’m going to have to write an entire book in six weeks’ time.

My shoulder hits somebody else’s as I run through the open elevator door.

“Is that Josephine Russell?” someone asks from nearby. It might be the person I just ran into. I don’t have it in me to look.

I hurriedly press the button to close the elevator door before anyone can join me. I hit it repeatedly, my heart hammering in my chest. I know I’m seconds away from the stress finally catching up to me, and the last thing I want is for anyone to bear witness to the breakdown.

I let out the smallest sigh of relief when the elevator chimes and the doors begin to close.

“Josie!” I hear Eli yell from across the office.

I stare at my feet, refusing to look at him. I need the doors to close. Now.

They shut just as I hear footsteps get closer. “Josie,” he yells again, this time my name coming out harsher.

If he says anything else, I don’t hear it. The doors shut completely just as I bring my hand to my mouth and let out a sob.