67 Rhys
67
Rhys
Three days, eight hours. That was exactly how much time we had left until Ginger caught her plane back to London. I was starting to hate that city. London . And I hated the feeling pressing down on my chest. This had been the best summer of my life, but I kept noticing the bittersweet taste in my mouth every time I kissed her. It was our impending goodbye: a thorn in my side, a rock in my shoe, a stomachache, anger, selfishness…
“Stop scowling like that.” Ginger reached out and smoothed my forehead with her thumb, smiling under the light of the patio where we were having dinner. “You haven’t asked me again what I’ve been up to these past few days.”
Recently, when I’d been working, she’d stayed behind at the apartment, sitting at the table on the balcony and writing nonstop in a little notebook she carried everywhere she went. She was also looking up things on my computer. I knew what she was doing. Of course I did. My curiosity had made me look at her search history, but I didn’t want to pressure her or even bring the subject up until she’d decided.
“You want to tell me?”
“Yeah.” She smiled, excited, eyes shining. “I think I’m going to do it, Rhys. I think… I want to start a publisher. A small one. Independent. Just like in my graduation project, remember? I sent you endless boring emails about it…”
“They weren’t boring.”
“Whatever. The point is, I’ve looked at the numbers, and it’s doable. It’s risky, and I don’t know if the bank will lend me the money I need, but…”
“I’ve got money. Lots.”
“Are you kidding? I could never accept something like that.”
“Why not? I don’t want it.”
“I don’t understand…” She looked confused.
“It’s from my parents. They opened an account for me when I was little, and it’s stayed there, growing every month. I haven’t touched it for four years.”
“Since your argument with him.”
“Don’t get off the subject. I could give you whatever you need. Or lend it to you. At least it would go toward something worthwhile.”
“We’ll see. First, I want to try to get a loan. And then… I’ve been thinking over all the things I’d need to do: rent an office, find a distributor, look for a major project to launch with…”
“Would you need to hire staff?”
“One person, at least. It’s a lot of work. To keep from going broke, I might need to take on freelancers, for the typesetting, editing, maybe translating in the future. But I’ll start with books in English.”
We smiled.
“So you’re finally going to do it.”
“Am I…? Rhys…”
“Don’t hyperventilate, Ginger.”
“It’s just, at one moment I think it’s my life’s dream and it’s all wonderful, and the next moment I’m so scared I want to call Dad and ask if there’s still room for me at the company, even if it’s just sweeping up sawdust.”
I bent toward her and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, looking at the rest of her face, the little wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, her button nose. I stroked her cheeks with my knuckles.
“I trust you. You’ll make it.”
Ginger smiled. All the worry disappeared at once as she got up from her chair and sat on my lap right there, not worrying about who might see us or the woman at the next table over pursing her lips in disapproval. I wrapped my arms around her neck and gave her a long, soft, deep kiss.