Chapter 21
Just as I closed the car door after dropping Lucy at tennis camp, my phone started to vibrate.
It was Harper. She had an eerie knack for calling me when I was in the car enjoying a brief reprieve from Lucy’s barrage of questions about any and all topics that floated through her curious mind.
But I did need to thank Harper for the flowers and, more importantly, for her steadfast support, so I answered.
“Harper, thanks so much for calling. And thank you for the incredible flowers,” I gushed.
“You’re a New York Times bestseller! Can you believe it? I mean, I can. It really is a terrific book. You’re such a talent. And all of those TikToks. I can’t get enough of them.”
Her tone was a tad too perky, which put me on alert. Then I remembered the deal we’d made. She had to be calling about Call of the Void. Strike while the iron’s hot and all that.
“So how are you?” she asked. “How are you managing everything?”
“All the interest is unbelievable. I just can’t figure out how to find time for everything else. I guess I was hoping becoming a bestseller came with some practical perks, like a laundry or meal-prep robot,” I joked.
“So,” Harper said, and then paused.
I braced for her to make the ask, knowing I was not entirely sure of my answer.
The problem was that I still had no idea how to weigh the twin coincidences of Max’s sudden appearance in my life and my book becoming a New York Times bestseller against any possible risk from publishing that next book. My gut twisted.
“Can I please sell Call of the Void? We need to capitalize on your popularity. You’re the hottest thing out there right now. With the success of Love You to Mars and Back, I think we can take it to auction and get even more than the five hundred thousand dollars you turned down.”
Hearing that enormous number out loud again after so long gave me pause.
From the second I’d turned down the offer the first time, six months before Lucy’s birth, I’d worked to bury the ungodly sum deep in my subconscious.
Of course, I’d told Frannie and the Packers that I had turned down an offer for the manuscript, but I’d always been vague about the number.
Even then, in the wake of Sam’s death, I’d feared that no one would understand why this superstition had such a tight grip.
But given the Packers’ doubts about my mental stability, I was even more thankful I hadn’t told them.
Because if I had, it would have been all the proof Rebecca and William—and perhaps even Frannie—needed that I had indeed lost touch with reality.
I couldn’t deny that the money would be life-changing. Moving and furnishing our new apartment had taken a sizable chunk out of my savings, and my first royalty check was still many months away. Could I bring myself to do this? Could I say yes?
Without knowing how I was going to answer, I opened my mouth to respond.
But as I did, I caught a glimpse of Lucy’s booster seat in the rearview mirror and my stomach lurched.
If there was even the slightest chance that something could happen to Lucy, no amount of money in the world was worth it.
The answer had to be no. Again. “I know I said I would consider it after Love You to Mars and Back came out, but, Harper, I can’t do it. ”
“Really?” she said with an exasperated sigh.
“Yes,” I whispered, absorbing the sting of her judgment. “I’m so sorry.”
Harper remained silent. If there was ever something that made a person appear unhinged, other than a new boyfriend straight out of your book, it was turning down a six-figure advance on a completed work of fiction because you were worried it might come true.
“Look,” Harper said, “I’ve tried to be patient as you’ve worked through your issues, but as your business partner, I have to go on record that refusing to sell Call of the Void right now is a terrible idea. ”
“Harsh, Harper.”
“Why should I sugarcoat it?” Harper said. “Most other authors in the world would sell their soul for an opportunity like this.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”
She harrumphed. “Well, let’s start with what you’re going to do next.” Her disappointment traversed the time and space between us.
“Write another feel-good story?” This plan was news to me.
“It was one thing to write a romance to get yourself out of your slump, but if you write a second one, you’re going to get pigeonholed. Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know, I just know I’m not ready to sell Call of the Void.”
“I’m disappointed. I think you’re making a mistake. Let’s talk about it again next week.” Three beeps ended the call.
After everything Harper had done for me, I couldn’t stand letting her down.
She had an impressive client roster with multiple bestsellers, but the deal she was anticipating for my manuscript would be major for any literary agent.
Writing Love You to Mars and Back was supposed to help me answer the question of whether what I wrote came true.
Unfortunately, all it had done so far was raise more questions.
I needed more time. Until I had definitive answers, leaving Call of the Void unpublished felt like my only option.