Dedicated to the One I Love, page 10
Retreating to the bathroom, she pulled her hair into a messy bun, some of the shorter pieces falling around her jawline. She lathered her face with cream cleanser, soaked a washcloth with warm water, and buried her face in the damp cotton.
Relief.
Wait. Was her phone ringing?
Kylie dropped the washcloth into the sink with a splat, grabbed a towel, and dabbed her face dry as she retrieved her phone from her bedside table. “Hello?”
“Hello, Veronica?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Yes, this is Veronica.”
“This is Chelsea.”
“Chelsea?”
“Chelsea Price, from The Morning Connect with Chelsea and Carmen.”
As she fell onto her bed, Kylie almost sat on Remington who was curled up in the crumpled blanket. “Oh! Chelsea. Hi.”
“I’m sorry I’m calling so early on a Sunday—”
“Not a problem. I’m up.”
“I saw photos online of your book signing with some of your fans.”
Kylie needed to stop whatever crazy assumption Chelsea Price had based on those photos. “That wasn’t a true book signing. Someone spotted me in the bookstore and before I knew it, I was in the middle of a bunch of readers who wanted books autographed.”
“However that happened, I was thrilled to see you out with your fans. I was wondering if you’d come on the show tomorrow morning. Something else totally spur-of-the-moment, I know. We’d do a short three-minute virtual interview. I’d love to catch up on what’s going on with you, let all your readers know when that novel they’ve been waiting for is going to be released. Maybe address the rumor about you writing with Tate Merrick?”
Fielding “let’s do a catch-up interview” phone call was what her life was like before Andrew died—only back then Shannon usually notified her of requests. Kylie pulled her hair from the messy bun, strands feathering her face. There was no way she could say yes to Chelsea. Nothing glamorous to see here. She hadn’t done anything like this in years.
“Chelsea, thanks so much for calling me, but there’s nothing to say—”
“Social media indicates otherwise.” Chelsea’s laugh was infectious.
“You know how social media doesn’t tell the whole story.”
“Which is why I’m calling you.” Chelsea wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Fine. Kylie wouldn’t say no. She’d say not now. “How about this? When I’m ready to talk about my book release, I’ll call you first, okay?”
“And the Tate Merrick rumor?”
“If it becomes something to talk about, then I promise I’ll talk with you first. Deal?”
Chelsea hesitated for a few moments. And then—“Deal.”
“By the way, Chelsea, I love your book club Find Your Next Read.”
“I’m looking forward to announcing your book as a selection in the coming months.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
“I mean it.”
They said goodbye a moment later. The conversation was relaxed, almost like she’d been talking to a friend, not someone who was after a story.
Kylie pulled Remington into her arms, ignoring how he protested her attempt to steal a cuddle. He tolerated her attention for less than ten seconds before he abandoned her. Sometimes she wished Remington were a dog, but that was so disloyal. Remington had been faithful to her for years, in his own cat way.
Kylie needed to tell Shannon. There was nothing definite, but Chelsea had requested an interview. She’d given Chelsea an open-ended promise for something in the future, and that needed to be on her agent’s or her publishing house marketing manager’s radar.
Shannon had told her to relax today, which meant she was supposed to write. But exhaustion didn’t lend itself to creativity. Her phone rang again right after she’d sent a text to Shannon.
“Hello?”
“You didn’t tell me that you were writing again.”
“Mom.” So much for the hopes of a simple call. “There’s not a lot to tell. I’m a writer. I write.”
“Really, Kylie? The biggest news about your writing career in recent years is how you haven’t released a book since your husband died.”
Thank you for that, Mom.
Not that she said those words out loud. She’d learned long ago to not step into the ring with her mom. “How are you and Peter doing?”
“We’re fine. Enjoying the RV. We thought we might come through Colorado later this summer.”
“Oh. Okay.” She should have tried to sound more enthusiastic. “Keep me posted. I’m on a double deadline right now, so I won’t be up to a lot of entertaining.”
“I didn’t ask you to entertain us, Kylie. I just thought we could have dinner one night.”
“Dinner will probably work—”
She’d make no promises to her mother. Just like her mother made no promises to her. Ever.
Kylie ended her second unexpected conversation of the day, but the first one with Chelsea had been easier. Kylie’s guard had been down with her mom—thank you, lack of sleep—so she hadn’t let the call go to voicemail, as usual. It was always wiser to listen to the message and then bide her time and try to connect when her mother wouldn’t be available. Voicemail was best with the two of them. Communication, yes, but with the right amount of distance.
Kylie turned her phone on Do Not Disturb and left it in her bedroom. No more real people today. She’d skip both Starbucks and church today—too many real people—and make herself a fresh cup of tea. After some quiet time on the deck to resettle her heart, she’d fire up her computer, and spend some time with Evangeline and Remington. Fictional characters she could handle. If they didn’t do what she wanted, there was always a delete key.
CHAPTER 9
Any day that started with hiking the Incline in Manitou was a good day, but the fact that it was a Monday made today even better. Joe hadn’t even asked Tucker and Mallory to join him. Today, he preferred solitude over time with his two friends. He’d left his phone at home.
The sun was just starting to make an appearance as he started the ascent. He’d acknowledged other hikers with a nod or a quick wave but focused most of his attention on reaching the top, where he skipped the usual selfie. Then he turned around and focused on the descent.
He didn’t do church much anymore—had left behind the requirement when he went to college and struggled to find a trustworthy community since then. But here, in the outdoors, he sometimes wished he had more of a relationship with God. Even though he knew it wasn’t fair of him, when he thought of God, the image looked and sounded like his dad. Just another opportunity to not measure up.
Better to hike by himself and admit he could enjoy what God had made. By the time he’d reached the parking lot again, the tightness in his back and shoulders had eased.
He returned home, relishing the silence in the car, ready to face the day. He hadn’t anticipated the multiple texts and voicemails from Liza racked up on the phone sitting on his dresser. Breakfast and a shower would have to wait. He allowed himself time to make a pot of coffee, change into a clean T-shirt, and then grabbed his earbuds and poured himself a mug as the call connected.
“You sleep in?”
“Hardly. I just got back home after hiking the Incline.”
“One of the major differences between you and me is I’m happy working out in my home gym.”
“If this phone call is about Saturday’s disaster, I just left all that stress at the bottom of the mountain—”
“It’s not a disaster.”
“How can you say that? My sister updated me all day Sunday on how many likes and comments that ridiculous video is getting.”
“Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Love me. Hate me. Just don’t ignore me?’”
“Yes, I have. An American athlete named Daniel Cormier said it. His exact words were, ‘You can love me, you can hate me, but just don’t be indifferent. Care about it enough to watch.’”
“I don’t know how you keep all that stuff in your head and still have room to plot new stories.” Liza laughed. “My point is, you’re not being ignored.”
Joe carried his coffee to the living room and relaxed into his chair. “Do you want to know what the real point is, Liza?”
“Tell me.”
“The real point is I can’t work with Veronica Hollins.”
There. He’d said it.
“You signed a contract. She signed a contract. Even more important, she wrote a great chapter. You’re going to have to be reasonable and figure out some way to work with the woman.”
Here he was again, back to doing science fair projects with Dad.
“Do it. Just do it.”
He needed a second cup of coffee, but his body refused to budge from the chair.
Liza wanted him to be reasonable? To figure out some way to work with an opinionated romance writer? Fine. Joe was a reasonable man. Veronica Hollins was the one being unreasonable.
That was it! He’d reason with her.
He finished the phone call with Liza. Opened the Notes app on his phone. All he needed was a nice, logical list of what Veronica should do and should not do in his book.
1.I am the lead author. Enough said.
2.Remington Gerard is the hero. Keep him front and center 70 percent … no, 60 percent of the time. There. Evangeline would have a decent amount of time onstage.
3.This is a military suspense. This is not a romance book. Ha! He could almost hear the little boy at the beginning of The Princess Bride asking if it was a kissing book. No. Lethal Strike is not a kissing book.
4.Any rescuing at the end of the book … reread #2.
All working relationships needed guidelines. Now there were four simple steps for Veronica to remember. Joe resisted the urge to underline the first point on the list. He’d kept the list short. Four easy-to-recall rules that would ensure their writing relationship ran smoothly.
Joe added his mug to the half-full dishwasher and pulled a cold Pepsi from the fridge. He was back in charge. Today was going to be a good day.
His watch buzzed, indicating a text from Liza about an online meeting later. Had he forgotten something? He checked his calendar on his phone. Nope. Nothing there. He scanned the rest of the text.
We scheduled a video call. It’s at noon your time. Does that work?
Yes. “We” means?
Me and Charlotte. I’ll send you the link in a bit.
Fine.
An impromptu meeting with Liza and his editor. What was that about? He wasn’t being called to the principal’s office. What happened over the weekend wasn’t his fault. Besides, he was an adult. No one could give him detention.
Joe retreated to the shower, rinsing layers of dirt and sweat off his body. He’d send the list to Veronica and then spend some time with his online author group. Connect with his readers in a positive way.
A few minutes before noon, he clicked on the meeting link, expecting to wait for Liza to let him into the virtual site. But he was on-screen almost immediately. Liza greeted him.
“Charlotte is running a few minutes late, but you’ll recognize Veronica Hollins. Let me introduce you to her agent, Shannon Wells, and her editor, Fiona Morgan.”
Wait. A. Minute.
Liza had set him up. For what, he didn’t know. All he could do was smile at all the other people in their little screen boxes and act like he was fine with whatever was going on. If he’d known there were going to be additional people here, he would have worn something other than a plain black T-shirt. Oh well. He’d showered.
“Veronica, hello again.” He forced a smile. “Shannon. Fiona. Nice to meet you.”
Kylie … Veronica looked no happier than he was about the meeting. Maybe she’d been ambushed too. He’d stay quiet and let Liza handle things, which she did, getting things rolling once Charlotte arrived.
“I don’t believe in wasting my time—or anyone else’s time. Both publishers involved in this project want it to succeed. However, it’s apparent Veronica Hollins and Tate Merrick are having serious problems writing together.”
“You got that right.” Joe crossed his arms.
“Your microphone is not muted, Joe.” Liza’s reprimand held no humor.
“I’m just agreeing with you.”
“Also, we’re not wasting our time trying to discover who leaked the information about the two of you writing together.” Liza was all business today. “We think it may have been a harmless mistake. Nothing malicious. It could have even happened through one of our publishing houses. We’re going to continue with the ‘neither confirm nor deny’ route for the time being and announce it formally when we’re more prepared.”
“Will you keep us updated on that?” Kylie’s attitude was no-nonsense. She sat in front of a beautiful row of bookshelves, her hair pulled back from her face.
“Yes, of course we’ll keep you and Joe in the loop.” Liza hadn’t smiled once during the meeting. “As I mentioned before, the biggest difficulty right now is between Veronica Hollins and Tate Merrick—and your struggle to write together.”
“I think I’ve found a way to fix that.” Joe might as well show everyone that he was a team player. “I sent Ky—Veronica an email with some basic guidelines—”
“Really? I didn’t see that email—”
“Read the email after the meeting, Kylie,” Shannon interrupted. “We have a suggestion for the two of you.”
“More than a suggestion,” Liza added.
“Yes.” Shannon nodded. “We want the two of you to write together.”
Joe made eye contact with Liza—as much as he could do that via a video screen. “We are writing together.”
“When we say write together, we mean you should get together and write. In the same room. Face-to-face.” Shannon motioned between Joe and Kylie.
Oh.
Kylie sat silent in her little window.
Liza took over. “Shannon and I talked for a long time yesterday. We both know how you and Kylie became friends first online. The two of you got along for five months as Kylie and Joe.”
“Right.” Shannon nodded. “Tate and Veronica clash. Joe and Kylie are friends. Go back to the beginning, when you were just Joe and Kylie, and then figure out how to write this book.”
“That’s an absurd idea.” Joe shoved his chair back.
“Why?”
“Because we’re not just Joe and Kylie anymore.”
“You both ask your readers to suspend belief every time they pick up one of your books. To go with you on fictional journeys. We’re asking you to set aside your egos—there, I said it—and remember you started out as friends. Look at each other and see Kylie, not Veronica Hollins. See Joe, not Tate Merrick.”
“I’m willing to try.” Kylie half raised her hand, as if they were in a classroom and not a virtual meeting.
“Seriously?” Joe raked his fingers through his hair.
“Yes. It’s worth a try. I want this book to succeed.” Maybe Kylie was attempting to make amends for her part in the book signing fiasco. Her expression seemed softer than it had been at the beginning of the meeting.
“Thanks for that.”
He had to go along with this preposterous idea if he didn’t want to look like a complete jerk. Kylie was willing, but of course she would want the book to succeed. She couldn’t lose the opportunity to have her name on the cover of his book.
And he wanted this book to succeed too. He may have forgotten that.
“Great.” He pumped as much enthusiasm as he could into that one word. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Then we’re done here,” Liza spoke up and the others nodded in agreement. “We’ll let you and Kylie figure out the specifics.”
“Submit your chapters to both me”—the name below the box Identified the woman as Fiona Morgan, Kylie’s editor—“and Shannon. I don’t need to see them before the deadline, but if you’re done early—”
“I know. Early is great, just don’t be late.” Kylie smiled.
Within minutes, they’d all signed off. Joe stared at the blank computer screen. If it wasn’t such a long drive to the Incline, he’d be tempted to hike it again to work off the tightness that had returned to his shoulders and neck.
One thing was certain—he’d already sent Kylie one email with his suggestions today. She could email him with her suggestions of how to make this brilliant plan work.
CHAPTER 10
When Kylie had woken up and realized it was Wednesday, which meant Joe was coming over, her first thought had been Today is going to be the longest day of my life.
No. That day had happened three years ago. The day in Greece when Andrew had kissed her goodbye. Told her he’d be back in a few hours and left her to pack, ignoring her silence. Her hurt. And then hadn’t returned from his scuba diving excursion—and so much had been left unsaid. Unfinished.
Joe Edwards coming over to talk about their writing project? No big deal. And yet, Kylie had been up since six o’clock. No, earlier than that, but she’d forced herself to stay in bed until six. She’d equally forced herself to not fret over what she wore. Cotton capris and a fitted T-shirt. No curling her hair. Just a touch of makeup.
Now it was all of eight forty-five. Kylie should have told Joe to come at nine o’clock instead of ten because waiting for him to show up was undermining her bravado. Her false bravado.
At least the weather was cooperating today, promising to be sunny but not too warm, so they could sit outside, if Joe was agreeable. Then again, she doubted he’d agree to anything she suggested.
Dylan, Leah, and Zoe had encouraged her to be hospitable. Fine. She’d bolstered her courage with kindness. She’d made chocolate chip cookie bars. Simple enough. Bought a single-cup Keurig because Joe drank coffee, so she could at least offer him the choice between caffeinated or decaf pods. Her coffee maker had been ignored since the day she’d returned from Greece after Andrew died. Who knew if it even worked anymore.
Relief.
Wait. Was her phone ringing?
Kylie dropped the washcloth into the sink with a splat, grabbed a towel, and dabbed her face dry as she retrieved her phone from her bedside table. “Hello?”
“Hello, Veronica?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Yes, this is Veronica.”
“This is Chelsea.”
“Chelsea?”
“Chelsea Price, from The Morning Connect with Chelsea and Carmen.”
As she fell onto her bed, Kylie almost sat on Remington who was curled up in the crumpled blanket. “Oh! Chelsea. Hi.”
“I’m sorry I’m calling so early on a Sunday—”
“Not a problem. I’m up.”
“I saw photos online of your book signing with some of your fans.”
Kylie needed to stop whatever crazy assumption Chelsea Price had based on those photos. “That wasn’t a true book signing. Someone spotted me in the bookstore and before I knew it, I was in the middle of a bunch of readers who wanted books autographed.”
“However that happened, I was thrilled to see you out with your fans. I was wondering if you’d come on the show tomorrow morning. Something else totally spur-of-the-moment, I know. We’d do a short three-minute virtual interview. I’d love to catch up on what’s going on with you, let all your readers know when that novel they’ve been waiting for is going to be released. Maybe address the rumor about you writing with Tate Merrick?”
Fielding “let’s do a catch-up interview” phone call was what her life was like before Andrew died—only back then Shannon usually notified her of requests. Kylie pulled her hair from the messy bun, strands feathering her face. There was no way she could say yes to Chelsea. Nothing glamorous to see here. She hadn’t done anything like this in years.
“Chelsea, thanks so much for calling me, but there’s nothing to say—”
“Social media indicates otherwise.” Chelsea’s laugh was infectious.
“You know how social media doesn’t tell the whole story.”
“Which is why I’m calling you.” Chelsea wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Fine. Kylie wouldn’t say no. She’d say not now. “How about this? When I’m ready to talk about my book release, I’ll call you first, okay?”
“And the Tate Merrick rumor?”
“If it becomes something to talk about, then I promise I’ll talk with you first. Deal?”
Chelsea hesitated for a few moments. And then—“Deal.”
“By the way, Chelsea, I love your book club Find Your Next Read.”
“I’m looking forward to announcing your book as a selection in the coming months.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
“I mean it.”
They said goodbye a moment later. The conversation was relaxed, almost like she’d been talking to a friend, not someone who was after a story.
Kylie pulled Remington into her arms, ignoring how he protested her attempt to steal a cuddle. He tolerated her attention for less than ten seconds before he abandoned her. Sometimes she wished Remington were a dog, but that was so disloyal. Remington had been faithful to her for years, in his own cat way.
Kylie needed to tell Shannon. There was nothing definite, but Chelsea had requested an interview. She’d given Chelsea an open-ended promise for something in the future, and that needed to be on her agent’s or her publishing house marketing manager’s radar.
Shannon had told her to relax today, which meant she was supposed to write. But exhaustion didn’t lend itself to creativity. Her phone rang again right after she’d sent a text to Shannon.
“Hello?”
“You didn’t tell me that you were writing again.”
“Mom.” So much for the hopes of a simple call. “There’s not a lot to tell. I’m a writer. I write.”
“Really, Kylie? The biggest news about your writing career in recent years is how you haven’t released a book since your husband died.”
Thank you for that, Mom.
Not that she said those words out loud. She’d learned long ago to not step into the ring with her mom. “How are you and Peter doing?”
“We’re fine. Enjoying the RV. We thought we might come through Colorado later this summer.”
“Oh. Okay.” She should have tried to sound more enthusiastic. “Keep me posted. I’m on a double deadline right now, so I won’t be up to a lot of entertaining.”
“I didn’t ask you to entertain us, Kylie. I just thought we could have dinner one night.”
“Dinner will probably work—”
She’d make no promises to her mother. Just like her mother made no promises to her. Ever.
Kylie ended her second unexpected conversation of the day, but the first one with Chelsea had been easier. Kylie’s guard had been down with her mom—thank you, lack of sleep—so she hadn’t let the call go to voicemail, as usual. It was always wiser to listen to the message and then bide her time and try to connect when her mother wouldn’t be available. Voicemail was best with the two of them. Communication, yes, but with the right amount of distance.
Kylie turned her phone on Do Not Disturb and left it in her bedroom. No more real people today. She’d skip both Starbucks and church today—too many real people—and make herself a fresh cup of tea. After some quiet time on the deck to resettle her heart, she’d fire up her computer, and spend some time with Evangeline and Remington. Fictional characters she could handle. If they didn’t do what she wanted, there was always a delete key.
CHAPTER 9
Any day that started with hiking the Incline in Manitou was a good day, but the fact that it was a Monday made today even better. Joe hadn’t even asked Tucker and Mallory to join him. Today, he preferred solitude over time with his two friends. He’d left his phone at home.
The sun was just starting to make an appearance as he started the ascent. He’d acknowledged other hikers with a nod or a quick wave but focused most of his attention on reaching the top, where he skipped the usual selfie. Then he turned around and focused on the descent.
He didn’t do church much anymore—had left behind the requirement when he went to college and struggled to find a trustworthy community since then. But here, in the outdoors, he sometimes wished he had more of a relationship with God. Even though he knew it wasn’t fair of him, when he thought of God, the image looked and sounded like his dad. Just another opportunity to not measure up.
Better to hike by himself and admit he could enjoy what God had made. By the time he’d reached the parking lot again, the tightness in his back and shoulders had eased.
He returned home, relishing the silence in the car, ready to face the day. He hadn’t anticipated the multiple texts and voicemails from Liza racked up on the phone sitting on his dresser. Breakfast and a shower would have to wait. He allowed himself time to make a pot of coffee, change into a clean T-shirt, and then grabbed his earbuds and poured himself a mug as the call connected.
“You sleep in?”
“Hardly. I just got back home after hiking the Incline.”
“One of the major differences between you and me is I’m happy working out in my home gym.”
“If this phone call is about Saturday’s disaster, I just left all that stress at the bottom of the mountain—”
“It’s not a disaster.”
“How can you say that? My sister updated me all day Sunday on how many likes and comments that ridiculous video is getting.”
“Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Love me. Hate me. Just don’t ignore me?’”
“Yes, I have. An American athlete named Daniel Cormier said it. His exact words were, ‘You can love me, you can hate me, but just don’t be indifferent. Care about it enough to watch.’”
“I don’t know how you keep all that stuff in your head and still have room to plot new stories.” Liza laughed. “My point is, you’re not being ignored.”
Joe carried his coffee to the living room and relaxed into his chair. “Do you want to know what the real point is, Liza?”
“Tell me.”
“The real point is I can’t work with Veronica Hollins.”
There. He’d said it.
“You signed a contract. She signed a contract. Even more important, she wrote a great chapter. You’re going to have to be reasonable and figure out some way to work with the woman.”
Here he was again, back to doing science fair projects with Dad.
“Do it. Just do it.”
He needed a second cup of coffee, but his body refused to budge from the chair.
Liza wanted him to be reasonable? To figure out some way to work with an opinionated romance writer? Fine. Joe was a reasonable man. Veronica Hollins was the one being unreasonable.
That was it! He’d reason with her.
He finished the phone call with Liza. Opened the Notes app on his phone. All he needed was a nice, logical list of what Veronica should do and should not do in his book.
1.I am the lead author. Enough said.
2.Remington Gerard is the hero. Keep him front and center 70 percent … no, 60 percent of the time. There. Evangeline would have a decent amount of time onstage.
3.This is a military suspense. This is not a romance book. Ha! He could almost hear the little boy at the beginning of The Princess Bride asking if it was a kissing book. No. Lethal Strike is not a kissing book.
4.Any rescuing at the end of the book … reread #2.
All working relationships needed guidelines. Now there were four simple steps for Veronica to remember. Joe resisted the urge to underline the first point on the list. He’d kept the list short. Four easy-to-recall rules that would ensure their writing relationship ran smoothly.
Joe added his mug to the half-full dishwasher and pulled a cold Pepsi from the fridge. He was back in charge. Today was going to be a good day.
His watch buzzed, indicating a text from Liza about an online meeting later. Had he forgotten something? He checked his calendar on his phone. Nope. Nothing there. He scanned the rest of the text.
We scheduled a video call. It’s at noon your time. Does that work?
Yes. “We” means?
Me and Charlotte. I’ll send you the link in a bit.
Fine.
An impromptu meeting with Liza and his editor. What was that about? He wasn’t being called to the principal’s office. What happened over the weekend wasn’t his fault. Besides, he was an adult. No one could give him detention.
Joe retreated to the shower, rinsing layers of dirt and sweat off his body. He’d send the list to Veronica and then spend some time with his online author group. Connect with his readers in a positive way.
A few minutes before noon, he clicked on the meeting link, expecting to wait for Liza to let him into the virtual site. But he was on-screen almost immediately. Liza greeted him.
“Charlotte is running a few minutes late, but you’ll recognize Veronica Hollins. Let me introduce you to her agent, Shannon Wells, and her editor, Fiona Morgan.”
Wait. A. Minute.
Liza had set him up. For what, he didn’t know. All he could do was smile at all the other people in their little screen boxes and act like he was fine with whatever was going on. If he’d known there were going to be additional people here, he would have worn something other than a plain black T-shirt. Oh well. He’d showered.
“Veronica, hello again.” He forced a smile. “Shannon. Fiona. Nice to meet you.”
Kylie … Veronica looked no happier than he was about the meeting. Maybe she’d been ambushed too. He’d stay quiet and let Liza handle things, which she did, getting things rolling once Charlotte arrived.
“I don’t believe in wasting my time—or anyone else’s time. Both publishers involved in this project want it to succeed. However, it’s apparent Veronica Hollins and Tate Merrick are having serious problems writing together.”
“You got that right.” Joe crossed his arms.
“Your microphone is not muted, Joe.” Liza’s reprimand held no humor.
“I’m just agreeing with you.”
“Also, we’re not wasting our time trying to discover who leaked the information about the two of you writing together.” Liza was all business today. “We think it may have been a harmless mistake. Nothing malicious. It could have even happened through one of our publishing houses. We’re going to continue with the ‘neither confirm nor deny’ route for the time being and announce it formally when we’re more prepared.”
“Will you keep us updated on that?” Kylie’s attitude was no-nonsense. She sat in front of a beautiful row of bookshelves, her hair pulled back from her face.
“Yes, of course we’ll keep you and Joe in the loop.” Liza hadn’t smiled once during the meeting. “As I mentioned before, the biggest difficulty right now is between Veronica Hollins and Tate Merrick—and your struggle to write together.”
“I think I’ve found a way to fix that.” Joe might as well show everyone that he was a team player. “I sent Ky—Veronica an email with some basic guidelines—”
“Really? I didn’t see that email—”
“Read the email after the meeting, Kylie,” Shannon interrupted. “We have a suggestion for the two of you.”
“More than a suggestion,” Liza added.
“Yes.” Shannon nodded. “We want the two of you to write together.”
Joe made eye contact with Liza—as much as he could do that via a video screen. “We are writing together.”
“When we say write together, we mean you should get together and write. In the same room. Face-to-face.” Shannon motioned between Joe and Kylie.
Oh.
Kylie sat silent in her little window.
Liza took over. “Shannon and I talked for a long time yesterday. We both know how you and Kylie became friends first online. The two of you got along for five months as Kylie and Joe.”
“Right.” Shannon nodded. “Tate and Veronica clash. Joe and Kylie are friends. Go back to the beginning, when you were just Joe and Kylie, and then figure out how to write this book.”
“That’s an absurd idea.” Joe shoved his chair back.
“Why?”
“Because we’re not just Joe and Kylie anymore.”
“You both ask your readers to suspend belief every time they pick up one of your books. To go with you on fictional journeys. We’re asking you to set aside your egos—there, I said it—and remember you started out as friends. Look at each other and see Kylie, not Veronica Hollins. See Joe, not Tate Merrick.”
“I’m willing to try.” Kylie half raised her hand, as if they were in a classroom and not a virtual meeting.
“Seriously?” Joe raked his fingers through his hair.
“Yes. It’s worth a try. I want this book to succeed.” Maybe Kylie was attempting to make amends for her part in the book signing fiasco. Her expression seemed softer than it had been at the beginning of the meeting.
“Thanks for that.”
He had to go along with this preposterous idea if he didn’t want to look like a complete jerk. Kylie was willing, but of course she would want the book to succeed. She couldn’t lose the opportunity to have her name on the cover of his book.
And he wanted this book to succeed too. He may have forgotten that.
“Great.” He pumped as much enthusiasm as he could into that one word. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Then we’re done here,” Liza spoke up and the others nodded in agreement. “We’ll let you and Kylie figure out the specifics.”
“Submit your chapters to both me”—the name below the box Identified the woman as Fiona Morgan, Kylie’s editor—“and Shannon. I don’t need to see them before the deadline, but if you’re done early—”
“I know. Early is great, just don’t be late.” Kylie smiled.
Within minutes, they’d all signed off. Joe stared at the blank computer screen. If it wasn’t such a long drive to the Incline, he’d be tempted to hike it again to work off the tightness that had returned to his shoulders and neck.
One thing was certain—he’d already sent Kylie one email with his suggestions today. She could email him with her suggestions of how to make this brilliant plan work.
CHAPTER 10
When Kylie had woken up and realized it was Wednesday, which meant Joe was coming over, her first thought had been Today is going to be the longest day of my life.
No. That day had happened three years ago. The day in Greece when Andrew had kissed her goodbye. Told her he’d be back in a few hours and left her to pack, ignoring her silence. Her hurt. And then hadn’t returned from his scuba diving excursion—and so much had been left unsaid. Unfinished.
Joe Edwards coming over to talk about their writing project? No big deal. And yet, Kylie had been up since six o’clock. No, earlier than that, but she’d forced herself to stay in bed until six. She’d equally forced herself to not fret over what she wore. Cotton capris and a fitted T-shirt. No curling her hair. Just a touch of makeup.
Now it was all of eight forty-five. Kylie should have told Joe to come at nine o’clock instead of ten because waiting for him to show up was undermining her bravado. Her false bravado.
At least the weather was cooperating today, promising to be sunny but not too warm, so they could sit outside, if Joe was agreeable. Then again, she doubted he’d agree to anything she suggested.
Dylan, Leah, and Zoe had encouraged her to be hospitable. Fine. She’d bolstered her courage with kindness. She’d made chocolate chip cookie bars. Simple enough. Bought a single-cup Keurig because Joe drank coffee, so she could at least offer him the choice between caffeinated or decaf pods. Her coffee maker had been ignored since the day she’d returned from Greece after Andrew died. Who knew if it even worked anymore.
