9. Nine
NINE
The reader event went smoothly, although I caught Wylie huffing back annoyance several times when I answered questions. My mother always said I had a charm streak a mile wide. I didn’t get it when I was a kid. I did as an adult.
I was good with people, except it was all an act. I didn’t wish ill will on any of our fans — not even a little — but I didn’t feel a connection with them. My mother’s inclination to bring people into our lives and then kick them out when she was bored had taught me not to form attachments.
Wylie was another story. She was charming without even trying. People were just drawn to her, and she was completely unaware of it. She had the sort of infectious enthusiasm that made people believe she was genuine, because she was.
So, when the readers asked Wylie what her favorite couple to ship was, and she said Beverly Crusher and Jean Luc Picard, people were a little disappointed.
Those weren’t current names. There was no Will and Eleven in there, or even Jamie and Claire.
When she explained why she shipped them, however, and went on and on about love lasting a lifetime and the yearning associated with it, even I found myself invested in Crusher and Picard.
How had that happened?
Then, when she already had them in the palm of her hand, she dusted off her Klingon again. It sounded as if she were trying to have a bowel movement. The entire crowd jumped to their feet and applauded when she was finished, though.
It was somehow both annoying and amazing.
As I watched her, I found the anger I’d been feeling with her earlier dissipate.
I took the time to look between her and the crowd so I could see just how excited they were to watch Wylie be Wylie.
There were people there to see me, of course.
I even had a few flirtatious women who tried to slip me their numbers.
I was much more interested in watching Wylie charm the pants off anybody who interacted with her.
It was as if she was beaming sunshine directly on them.
I had every intention of apologizing — again — as soon as the event had finished. I’d taken it to the wrong place — again — and I knew that an apology might not go over well. I was determined to try, however.
I thought Wylie had gone to the bathroom, so I waited for her to exit into the hallway.
Even if she shot me down, I was going to tell her I was sorry.
She didn’t come out, though. When I tracked down Casey, she told me Wylie had already left.
She offered to take my number and forward it to Wylie in case she agreed to call me, but I didn’t bother. That would be a waste of time.
Wylie was mad. I didn’t blame her. I kept being obnoxious with her.
The most disturbing part — well, other than the obvious — was that I didn’t know why I kept losing it.
Normally, I could hide my emotions. Life on the road with my mother had taught me that.
Tantrums weren’t allowed in front of fans, and there were always fans around, even if you didn’t see them.
I’d learned to moderate my emotions over the years.
With everybody but Wylie, apparently.
So, I went home. It was the smart move. I spent the next three days finishing my unpacking.
I managed to get every item on a shelf, in a closet, or put away.
All the boxes got broken down, and I carried the cardboard out to the fire pit, which weirdly looked like a giant vagina when staring down at it.
I had no idea if that was what Bree had been going for when she had it built, but I had a sneaking suspicion it was.
Once that was done, I started a new book. Technically, I was supposed to have another two weeks off, but it never hurt to get ahead of things. So, I cracked open my outline and reacquainted myself with Thorn and Paisley.
Then I decided I hated the names Thorn and Paisley.
I hated the names Lisa and Jeffrey more and went back to Paisley. Thorn was definitely out, though.
I tried Paisley with Jeffrey, but that wasn’t right.
Then I started thinking about Wylie’s name. Kylie with a W. I had no idea where Aggie had come up with it. I’d never asked. Wylie was a weird name, right?
It wasn’t as if Huxley was a normal name. I’d read it in a few romance books, though, which meant it had hit the mainstream. Not Wylie, though.
Then I started thinking about the smattering of freckles on Wylie’s nose. She’d had them when we were kids, but I’d hated freckles back then. Now, for some reason, I suddenly liked freckles.
Then I thought of Wylie’s lips. They were plump but not fake. She hadn’t overdone it with fillers, thankfully. She didn’t strike me as anybody who would ever mess with her face. She wasn’t vain. Actually, as far as I could tell, she didn’t realize she was beautiful.
She didn’t have a butt like a Kardashian. She was naturally willowy, which meant her butt was small but adorable.
She didn’t have overblown breasts, also like a Kardashian. Hers were actually pretty small and yet somehow fit her lanky frame. She reminded me of Zendaya that way, although she was Irish countryside white. I had no doubt she was careful in the sun. With skin that pale, she wouldn’t have a choice.
Everything that hadn’t fit when she was younger now fit perfectly. My mother had been right. She was a looker. It used to be that I dreamed of Anna Paquin and thought nobody else could match her. Now I knew that Anna would be jealous of Wylie if they ever crossed paths.
Also, after the terrible ending of True Blood, I just couldn’t understand my former love for that show or the woman anchoring the storyline. Perhaps it was the pot I was smoking back then. That made as much sense as anything else.
So, Thorn and Paisley didn’t make the cut. Whenever I tried to make Paisley work with another name, I hated it.
That’s where Kylie and Hensley came in. It took me two full days to land on names. Those names felt right to me. I was sticking with them. Once I came to that decision, however, it was time for the second reader event.
They set up dinner, and even though I was worried about what I would find when I got there, I sent Brody a thumbs-up when he texted to remind me what time we were meeting.
Would Wylie be there? Two weeks before, I wouldn’t have been keen on the possibility.
Now I wasn’t as certain about what I wanted.
I only knew one thing. If Wylie wasn’t at dinner, I would be disappointed. I told myself it was because I wanted to spar with her more. I wasn’t sure I believed it, though.
The second reader event was being held at The Lost Square, which was close to the River District and featured rooftop seating.
They’d set aside one entire section of the roof for the reader event, but Bree had reserved a table for seven beforehand, so we were covered there.
Hayley Clifton, who had been away dealing with a sick parent during the first event, was joining us this evening.
I was grateful to have another single individual at the table, because that meant all eyes wouldn’t be on Wylie and me.
Everybody was already seated when I joined them.
“Sorry,” I said as I sat in the chair between Nathan and Brody.
It felt as if the seating arrangements had been designed specifically to keep Wylie and me as far apart from one another as possible.
“I Ubered from The Landings, and the traffic was terrible.”
“Rush hour,” Nathan said. “That’s one thing I don’t miss. The traffic from Skidaway Island to downtown is always a nightmare. Now we live in a spot where we can walk almost anywhere.”
“Isn’t that great?” Bella cooed in exaggerated fashion as she leaned in and offered her lips to Nathan. “I’m a genius.”
Rather than tell her she was being goofy, he cupped the sides of her face and planted a loud kiss on her upturned mouth. “You’re the smartest woman in the world,” he agreed as he pulled back. “Not just because you married me either.”
“Oh, gross,” Bree complained as she glared at them. “You guys make me want to puke.”
“Oh, like I didn’t have to listen to Brody tell you that you have the most creative brain in the world when you were talking about your current manuscripts earlier today,” Nathan complained.
“We weren’t talking about manuscripts,” Bree replied on a grin. “We were talking about what we did in the bedroom last night.”
“Oh, man.” Nathan threw a roll at her, but there was very little heat to it. “You’re definitely the gross ones.”
Because I didn’t know what else to do, I raised my eyes. Wylie sat across from me, her gaze trained on her plate. She wasn’t even going to look at me. That should have been a good thing. Instead, I had to refrain from pounding the table just to get her to lift her chin. It was an odd impulse.
Thankfully, the server picked that moment to collect our orders. I made as if I was fixated on the menu, even though I really didn’t care. I wasn’t picky about food.
Wylie ordered something called the Marsh Bird to drink and the Spanish Bikini to eat.
When I read that it featured jalapeno cheese and fig jam, I quickly moved on.
By the time the server got to me, I still didn’t know what I wanted.
I kept getting distracted by the way Wylie tugged on a loose strand of her hair.
It kept blowing around because we were on a rooftop.
“Um, I’ll have a draft beer,” I said, going for the easy choice there. The menu was eclectic, but limited, so I went the safe route when ordering food. “I’ll take the burger, medium, and the fries, please.” I just hoped whatever they were touting as “special sauce” didn’t have figs in it. Blech.
Once the server left with our orders, Bree took the time to introduce Hayley to everybody.
She wrote clean and wholesome romance despite being a lesbian, which I thought was an interesting choice given how rigid that market seemed to be.
I had questions — a lot of them, actually — but I knew better than asking.