Instead, I list all his accomplishments. And there are many. I pretend like Nick Matthews has done great things for romance, when really all he’s done is come in and warp it with his lack of respect for the genre.
And when I conclude my speech by announcing him as the recipient of the Romance Author of the Year award, I stand there and smile and clap, as the room gives him an ovation he doesn’t deserve. Nick walks out onstage and I keep that smile frozen on my face as he takes my hand inhis, pulling me close, so close that the pine and juniper scent of him fills my nose. For just a second, I allow myself to close my eyes and breathe him in, leaning into his warmth.
“Thank you.” Nick brushes the words over the shell of my ear, his hand still tightly clasping mine like he doesn’t want to let go.
I make myself step away, one last fake smile for the audience. I slink back into the darkened corner of the stage as Nick takes to the mic.
“I could not think of a lovelier introduction.” Nick glances my way, and I wish the lights of the stage didn’t wash out his hazel eyes, making them unreadable from this distance. “You might not know it, but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Jess.”
My heart jumps into my throat, lodging itself there and making itself right at home. It’s the first time Nick has ever publicly noted my contributions to his career. He’s never once even mentioned me in the acknowledgments section of a book, not that I’ve scoured every one of them looking for my name. Looking for some kind of sign that I actually meant something to him at one point in time.
“Jessica and I were critique partners for many years, and she taught me so much about writing, and characters, and love.” His voice softens on that last word, and he looks my way again. “I am so thankful she was willing to be here tonight.”
The crowd delivers a light, half-hearted round of applause for me.
Nick turns his attention away from the wings and focuses on the audience. Before I truly have time to processmy feelings about what he said, he’s walking back my way. Neither of us speaks as the same assistant leads us out to the crowd, to our table, where of course we’re seated right next to each other. The spot on my left is open, having been saved for Alyssa. The spot on his right is open as well. I wonder who he was supposed to bring tonight and why she didn’t show up.
I turn my attention to the glass of red wine waiting for me at my seat, downing half of it in one large gulp. Then I look around at the rest of the table and immediately realize my mistake. Nick is the guest of honor here, so of course we’re seated with people whom I only recognize from their pictures on the SVP website, people I have never had so much as a Zoom call with, let alone met in person.
A couple of them shoot us inquiring looks, but then dinner is served and everyone pays more attention to their food than the midlist writer who has infiltrated their lead-title midst.
“Thank you, again, Jess. For what you said. I really appreciate you being here.” Nick’s words are quiet, his eyes focused on his plate.
“I didn’t do it for you.” I don’t want him getting any ideas about why I’m really here. This is not a peace treaty or an olive branch. It’s a business decision, and nothing more.
“I know,” he says softly. “But I appreciate it nonetheless.”
I respond with a merehmm, needing this conversation to come to an end before either of us says anything bordering on emotional. I check my phone on the sly,wondering just how much face time I need to put in here before I can duck out and go check in. Since I arrived so late, I came straight to the party after a quick change in the bathroom, but if my room is anywhere near as adorable as this old barn, I’m going to enjoy holing up under the covers and snuggling with a good book. I’ll take that scenario over forced human interaction literally any day of the week.
Nick is wise enough to not try to make further conversation. At least not until the dinner plates are cleared and a gorgeous Black woman slides around the table into the empty seat next to him. The two of them exchange greetings, and I don’t want to eavesdrop, so I turn my attention to the other members of the table. The vacant seat next to me has created a nice barrier between me and the execs, saving me from having to fake-smile and laugh through the meal.
“Jess, I’m sure you know Lauren Reid, the executive director of publicity?” Nick leans back in his chair, allowing me to fully take in the woman next to him.
I plaster on one of those fake smiles. “No, Nick, I can’t say I’ve ever been introduced to the executive director of publicity before.” I stick out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She gives me a firm shake and a genuine smile. “Nice to meet you as well, Jessica. I know of you, of course, but it’s so nice to finally get to speak to you in person. I had no idea you and Nick had such a history.” Her eyes dart between the two of us, probably picking up on the fact that we refuse to make eye contact with each other.
“We used to attend the same writers’ workshop.” I chance a glance at him then. The lines around Nick’smouth are tight, pulled down slightly, like he’s fighting a frown at my dismissal of our relationship.
“That’s so wonderful. Maybe we should have Nick be your conversation partner for your next book release. You know how much we love to see SVP authors promoting other SVP authors, and with Nick’s built-in audience, it would be sure to give you a boost in attendance.”
I grit my teeth. In all honesty, Lauren seems very nice, and I’m sure she’s fantastic at her job, but I can think of nothing I want less than for my next book launch to be all about Nick Matthews. Assuming I even have a next book launch, as I currently have no book to launch.
But I channel my inner Sonia, seizing this opportunity as it presents itself. “Well, assuming my option gets picked up, we could maybe look into that.” I smile sweetly, like I would be thrilled to have Nick deign to promote my book.
Lauren’s smile fades ever so slightly. “Given your relationship with your editor, I’m sure she’ll love whatever it is you’re working on now.”
“I hope so!” I push back my chair, reaching for the coat draped over the back. “I really hate to run, but I still need to check into my room for the night.” I attempt to stick my arm through my jacket, but the stupid sleeve gets caught. “It was really nice meeting you, Lauren.” I pretend like I’m not uselessly flapping the arm of the coat right in her face as I struggle to get it on.
Nick rises, calmly removing my arm from the sleeve and helping me slip easily into the coat. “I’ll come with you. I actually wasn’t able to check in earlier either.”
“Don’t leave the party on my account!” My fake laugh titters, and I hate myself a little in this moment. But whatthe hell is he thinking, offering to walk with me to the lobby, even if it will only take five minutes? That’s five minutes too many.
“No, really, it’s no trouble.” Nick graciously waves to everyone seated at our table, all the high-powered people who are watching us like we’re a couple of Christmas clowns. “Thank you, everyone, for the honor, and for hosting us tonight.”
“Yes, thank you so much.” I just manage to get the sentiment through my clenched teeth before I push through the sea of tables to the front entrance of the barn.
“Jess! Hi!” Hannah, my editor, catches me by the elbow as I’m flying by her, on a mission to get the fuck out of here.
