Epilogue
The office of Quill & Literary smelled faintly of paper and espresso.
I sat in the soft gray chair across from a wide oak desk, trying not to fidget. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city below, where cars were bumper-to-bumper in morning traffic.
My manuscript rested on the table before me—all four hundred and eighty pages. And Mia Redland, the head literary agent at Quill & Literary, was flipping through the pages.
“I have to admit,” she said, “I was curious when this landed on my desk.”
The anticipation of what she might follow up with made my heart pick up speed, and I felt a slight numbness spread into my fingertips.
I grounded myself with a few steady breaths and a grounding exercise my therapist had been working on with me.
Five things I can see.
Three things I can hear.
Two things I can smell.
It immediately helped, and I was able to refocus.
“It came highly recommended,” she admitted. “And I don’t usually take unsolicited manuscripts forwarded through… personal friends.”
Jay hadn’t promised anything. He had simply asked if his mother’s former colleague would be willing to look at it. Just look.
“But, I’m glad I said yes,” she finished.
I blinked. “You are?”
She gave a small nod.
“Your voice is authentic. And the storyline and career of the main female character are not what I expected.” She tapped one of the pages. “And the romance in it surprised me, honestly.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I glanced down at my hands in my lap out of nervousness and caught the soft glint of my engagement ring on my ring finger.
It was a simple gold band with a dainty oval diamond.
It had been a month since Jay had finally popped the question, and every time I caught sight of it, it made my heart flutter.
“You wrote this from experience,” she said quietly.
I lifted my gaze. “Yes,” I said, figuring it was best to be honest.
“So,” she said at last, sliding the manuscript forward slightly. “What are you calling it? It didn’t have a name in the subject of the email.”
For a long time, the story didn’t have a name, and when I’d sent it in to her, it had been undecided.
But I think I’d finally landed on something that felt true to the book.
I straightened in my chair and smiled.
“It’s called Love & Lidocaine.”