Chapter 11
“There’s a whole flashback segment about how seen he felt by your review. Well, Renee’s review, of Broken and Bruised.”
I hold my hands over my ears. “Oh my god.”
Jordyn brings my phone back to her face.
“How it fulfilled some deep-seated need for validation he had never gotten from an authority in writing.” She scrolls.
“It literally changed his life because it put his book on the road to being a bestseller. And! He talks about how Granger’s review of Harrowed and Used cut exceedingly deep because of how accurately it mirrored his own fears about the book.
He knew it didn’t have the substance it needed to hit the way he wanted.
He knew it wasn’t based on anything he’d ever experienced, and he couldn’t tap into the emotions he needed to really make it work.
But he thought he disguised it with enough sparkle and flash.
Threw enough plot twists in here and there for it to still resonate in some way, shape, or form. To still make a splash.”
She takes a second to skim a paragraph before continuing.
“‘Renee’s review sliced through all my bullshit. She articulated all the concerns and anxieties I had about my fledgling writing career in one concise paragraph.’” Jordyn blows out a loaded breath.
“And he’s been second-guessing everything he’s plotted since. ”
She’s quiet for an agonizingly long fifteen minutes while I pace an infinity-shaped hole in the floor of their living room, racking my brain for what my next move should be in this situation.
Jordyn finally puts down the phone. “Rikki, I know you think the Disney gods fucked you over . . . but this man seems extremely into you. This review-connection stuff, that doesn’t happen.” She pauses, thumbing through the pages again.
The phone dings, and Jordyn pulls it back to her face.
“Your dad. He says, ‘What’s going on? You okay?’ How does he know something’s going on?”
I take the phone from her. “He’s watching me come in and out on the fucking Ring camera. He’s been doing it all week.”
Me: I’m fine, just ran over to ask Jordyn something.
“Jesus, Rikki. You’re a thirty-year-old woman. That’s so creepy. Can you disconnect it?”
Dad: Please don’t cause a ruckus in the hallway, I don’t want to get complaints.
“I can’t risk upsetting him while I’m living for free in his apartment.” I fall back onto her couch.
“What’s he gonna do all the way in California if you disconnect it?”
I cut her a weary look. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”
Jordyn blows out a deep, flustered sigh but drops the topic.
I jam my hands into my hair. “So what should I do? What do you think?”
“About what?”
“The opening romance novel chapter I just received in my inbox!”
She shrugs. “I think you write the next chapter. I want to know what happens after this Renee cliffhanger.”
“Jordyn, you know what happens.”
“No, what happens in the fictional version of the night. This is romantic shit. Write the ideal next scene.”
“The ideal next scene is him coming back up with me for sex, Jordyn. That’s what should have happened.
I got sad and in my head about a potential relationship dying before it could begin after six months of failure—but we had so much chemistry!
What a goddamn waste. Why did I just say goodbye? What is wrong with me?”
She waggles her brows. “I think you should write it. Look at the reaction this PG-13 chapter had on you. If this is going nowhere . . . what’s the harm in giving him something to think about? He gave you a full-on lust meltdown, and you read like, two extremely tame sentences.”
“Three.”
“What do you have to lose?”
“I’m not a romance writer.”
“Who cares? Just have fun. Write it for you.”
“But he’s going to read it.”
“Again, what do you have to lose?”
We’re never going to see each other again. He’s in LA, regularly interacting with celebrities. He’ll be distracted within the week.
If I don’t respond, it’s going to be impossible to move past this. Writing the alternate ending to that night could be cathartic.