Chapter 41
When she came down to the shop the next day, Aurelia realized she’d lost a night of editing the manuscript and was due to see Oliver for dinner within hours.
She’d been dragging her feet about talking to Vronsky and hoped Oliver might not mention the love interest again.
The shop was relatively quiet, giving her time to finish typing out the revised chapters on her laptop.
Keeping busy helped to occupy her mind, but since she was writing about Vronsky she couldn’t help but think about the conversation that she knew they’d need to have, and soon.
When Oliver arrived at the restaurant, he was buoyant and full of energy, as though he were actually looking forward to seeing her, rather than facing another dreary work assignment.
His buoyancy seemed to deflate slightly when Aurelia slid the manuscript across the table.
“Is this a new draft?” he asked, pulling it toward him.
“It is. Well, a new draft for the first half of the book—I’m still working on the rest.”
“You’ve revised the first half already?”
His disbelief was making her feel very full of herself, so she said, “Of course,” as casually as she could.
“I take it you didn’t work in many of my edits, then.”
“I did. They’re there. Well, most—not all. I shortened the beginning, made Italy more fun for you,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she ribbed him. “Overall, I think you’ll be happy.”
“But are you happy?”
He seemed to genuinely care about her answer to that question, which made Aurelia drop her teasing tone.
“I wasn’t at first. It’s always hard to get edits on something you care about. But I agreed with most of them once I had a chance to work them out and see what they might mean for the story.”
He gave a smile that warmed his eyes, and she smiled in return, telling herself to ignore the tugging feeling in her stomach. The moment passed, and he was back to his edits.
“What about the love interest? Does Vronsky have a mademoiselle waiting for him in France now?”
The stomach tug instantly vanished at the casual way he’d referred to Vronsky’s love life.
“No. No, I haven’t gotten to that note yet. I’m not sure about… Well, I’m not even sure how to address it.”
“Aurelia, his is one of the greatest love stories in literature. As a reader I would find it hard to believe that, even after the tragic loss of Anna, he would never love or be with another woman ever again. Fine if it’s not the love of his life like Anna was, but can you really not see him having feelings for another woman again—ever? ”
After last night’s conversation with Elinor, Aurelia had to admit—at least to herself—that she, too, found it hard to believe he would never love again, even if that love were only half of what he’d felt for Anna. She looked up to see Oliver studying her face, trying to puzzle out her silence.
“You alright?”
“I am, yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m going to think about the love interest. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay,” said Oliver, nodding his head decisively. “You know, you can take your time with the next round of edits—there’s no rush.”
“Actually, there is a bit of a rush. I know the contract you sent said the book would come out next year, but I’m hoping we could get it into print a bit sooner.”
Oliver’s eyebrows went up.
“How much sooner? A year is tight as it is, even for a small press like ours. And you’re only on an early draft.”
“I was hoping to have it published in a few months?”
Oliver had taken a sip of water and began spluttering as if it had gone down the wrong way. He coughed, holding up his finger as he tried to recover.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to shock you. But you did say you liked working with early drafts.”
“I did say that.” He paused to clear his throat again. “But I also said I wanted more time to work on those drafts, not less.”
“Oh, right.” She’d definitely forgotten that part.
“It’s just… It’s important to me to get this book out as soon as I can.
It means something to me, to have it out in the world.
And now you’ve seen that I can work quickly.
I don’t want to push you, but… If we could try for a publication date this year—maybe in autumn?
—I promise I’ll put in the time to get it all done. ”
He regarded her, giving no sign of what was going through his mind. She wanted to keep making her case but thought it best to give him a moment to think.
“I’ll have to get the lead editor to approve it, but I’m willing to put in the time if you are.”
“Really? That would be brilliant! Thank you!”
“I’ll take a look at your changes this weekend, and I’ll work on getting notes back to you early next week,” he promised.
“Excellent. Okay.”
Relief shot through her and she sat back in her chair, limbs feeling like jelly after the tension she’d been holding.
Oliver, meanwhile, stared down at the table and then took a sip of his wine, seeming out of his element now they were done discussing edits to her book.
Aurelia decided to help him out by setting him back on familiar ground.
“I just read Marie Hanson’s book, the one you edited.”
“Did you?” he asked.
“Yes, James mentioned it, so I picked up a copy. It’s a gorgeous book, Oliver.”
“I’ll tell Marie you think so. She was lovely to work with—I pointed her in a direction and off she flew.”
“You make her sound like a labrador.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a laugh. “I just meant we found a good working rhythm.”
For some reason, Aurelia felt annoyed to think of him ‘finding a rhythm’ with another writer. Another female writer, she admitted to herself. She gave her head a little shake, trying to work loose the thought.
Oliver squinted at her and Aurelia knew she needed to keep the conversation going or risk him asking once again if she was quite alright.
“Do you keep in touch with Marie now that the book is finished?”
“I do. In fact, I’m a regular at hers for bridge,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“Bridge? As in the card game?” Aurelia left at hers unsaid.
“My granddad taught me how to play, and when Marie found out I knew how… Well, you need a group for bridge, so she and her husband invited me to join.”
Aurelia caught at the word ‘husband’ and felt a wave of humiliation wash over her. She knew only too well that Oliver didn’t want to date her, but she’d still allowed herself to feel jealous thinking he had a romantic relationship with poor Marie Hanson.
“Well, that’s good. I’m glad your authors aren’t keeping you too busy to have fun. I’ll try to do the same, even with my tight deadline,” she added with a self-deprecating smile.
Oliver grew serious, then said, “I tend to get very wrapped up in my work. It’s hard to make time for fun—for dating—when I’m knee-deep in an edit. But I’m ready to find that work-life balance thing everyone keeps talking about, to find someone worth making time for.”
He said this earnestly, looking directly into Aurelia’s eyes in a way that made that tug in her stomach feel slightly uncomfortable. His meaning seemed clear—that he’d like to make time for her—but that couldn’t be right. Hadn’t he told her, a few times now, that he wasn’t interested in her?
“Do you think we could skip dessert tonight?” she asked suddenly.
Oliver sat back, taking in yet another of her rapid mood shifts.
“Working on all of your edits this week has tired me out,” she added with a small smile—the best she could do when she felt so at sea. “Oh, here,” she added, taking the signed contract from her bag and handing it to him.
“We’re going to work together? It’s official, then?”
“It is.”
They left the restaurant and, despite his offer to walk her home, Aurelia insisted she needed the air and was fine on her own.