Chapter 14 #2
“Go for it. Girl, he’s already having kittens. He wants to get started on revisions as soon as possible.”
You’re not going to get what you don’t ask for.
“Marianne, I need a break. I’ll polish the book, but I need time. I’m burned out—dangerously so—and I have got to have more padding in the schedule. I can’t sustain the pace we’ve had going.”
“I figured you’d hit that point eventually. And that’s fine. I’m pretty sure I can negotiate for more time. But Wally’s going to want something in return.” Her tone had turned speculative.
Ivy braced herself. “What did you have in mind?”
“Gone? What do you mean she’s gone?”
“As in she went home last night.” Porter’s patient voice did nothing to calm the panic kicking against Harrison’s ribs. “How? She doesn’t have a car.”
“Apparently Pru’s husband gave her a ride to Johnson City to pick up a rental.”
“Fuuuuuck.” Harrison pressed his fist to his temple, wishing it would help alleviate the sudden icepick headache that had taken up residence behind his left eye. “And there’s no message? Nothing for me?”
Porter’s pause spoke volumes. “Well, no. She was pretty upset. It took me a little bit to explain to Pru what happened and actually get her contact information.”
Harrison sat up, feeling hope kindle in his chest. “You got her contact info. Thank Christ.”
“Well, sort of.”
“Sort of? What the hell does that mean?”
“Well, all they had was her billing address. Which is a P.O. Box.”
“A P.O. Box. How, exactly, is that helpful?”
“Because she lives in Nashville.”
Nashville. Impossibly, miraculously, the woman of his dreams actually lived in the same town he did. Maybe there was a God.
“Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Thanks, man.”
He had to track Ivy down. Of course she was upset. He hadn’t shown. Hadn’t contacted her. From her perspective, he’d just bailed. There was no telling what brand of asshole she imagined him to be. God, he hoped it hadn’t derailed the book for her.
Ty stumbled into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“Where’s your computer?”
“What?”
Harrison slid off the barstool. “I need your computer.”
Ty ducked into the fridge and came up with a bottle of water. “First my phone, now my computer. What do I look like? A Best Buy?”
“Brother, I love you, but if you don’t show me where your computer is right now so that I can start fixing the mess I’m in with the woman I left high and dry to be here, I’m going to be forced to kick your ass. And I’m not the one who smells like sweaty bourbon.”
Ty lowered the bottle slowly. “You’ve got a woman?”
“I had a woman,” Harrison corrected. “Who I was supposed to pick up yesterday afternoon for a romantic weekend and forgot to call because I’ve been more worried about you than what the hell day it is.
So now I have to track her down to explain myself so she doesn’t think I’m a world-class dick who disappeared on her because she’s somehow not worth it.
Because she’s worth every fucking thing. ”
Ty’s mouth had unhinged somewhere in the midst of this speech, and it occurred to Harrison that maybe he’d said too much. But damn it, he was exhausted and desperate.
“I’ll get the laptop.”
Ty came back a minute later and set the computer on the kitchen table. “So…uh, why is it you’re having to look her up by computer and not just calling her?”
“Because I don’t have her number.”
“Why is that?”
As the computer booted up, Harrison told him the short version.
“Shit, you left all that for me?” Ty dropped heavily into a chair. “I’m sorry I fucked things up for you.”
Harrison fixed him with a glare. “First off, you didn’t fuck anything up. I did by not taking care of my own shit before leaving town. Second, don’t you for a moment think I regret being here for you. You matter. Being here to help you when you’re going through hell matters. Got it?”
After a brief hesitation, he nodded and dragged his chair around so he could see the screen. “So how are you going to track her down?”
“She’s an author, so I figured I’d look her up on social media. She’s bound to be on Twitter or Facebook, or maybe her email address is on her website.”
Harrison typed Blake Iverson into the Google search bar.
“Wait, Blake Iverson is a chick?”
“It’s a pseudonym. And yeah.”
“Damn. Didn’t expect that. Love her books.”
Her website was the first thing to pop up.
He clicked on it, noting the slick design highlighting Hollow Point Ridge.
There was a page listing her books, another linking to her fan forum.
He clicked on that, wondering if she’d been active since she got home.
The current membership was listed at 96,428.
“Holy shit, that’s a lot of fans,” Ty muttered.
“No kidding.”
There was a ton of activity on the forum, but none of it appeared to be from Ivy herself.
A little more clicking took him to a contact page that linked to all her social media profiles.
He didn’t actually follow her anywhere, so he wouldn’t be able to send a direct message unless she accepted a friend request. And given what she probably thought of him right now, why would she do that?
The contact page didn’t list a specific email address, but it had a contact form. He clicked in the box and then paused.
“What’s the problem?” Ty asked. “Don’t know what to say? I figure ‘I’m sorry’ would be a good start.”
“No, it’s not that. Or not entirely. She’s a big freaking deal.
What if she doesn’t handle all her own social media and stuff?
She might have an assistant for that, and I don’t want to get filtered out as being a nut job or something.
Plus…this is really something that should probably be explained in person. ”
“So what are you gonna do?”
A popup appeared on the screen.
First ever public appearance! Meet the reclusive Blake Iverson and get your copy of Hollow Point Ridge autographed by the author. Bonus: Get the special inside track on her brand new series. Parthenon Books, Nashville, Tennessee.
“She’s having a book signing in two weeks,” Harrison murmured. “She never does public appearances.” What had her agent and editor had to hold over her head to get her to agree to that?
“Great, so you know where she’s going to be and when. So you can show up to plead your case in front of a couple hundred strangers.”
It wasn’t ideal, but this was his shot. He was going to put himself out there and risk rejection. It was part of that whole “choosing life” thing they’d talked about. But it wasn’t really about choosing life. It was about choosing her.
He could only hope that she’d decide to choose him back.