“Yeah, it’s going to take some time to untangle it all. And I’m going to have to find a new agent which makes me want to lock myself in my cottage and tell everyone to go to hell.”
“You could do that. You have enough money.” I smoothed my hand down his arm.
“I want to tell that story about the lake. It’s a good one. Maybe even better thanVantage Point.” He laced his fingers with mine.
“Then it’s worth it to fight for yourself. Period.”
“Maybe you should be my agent.”
“Hell no. You’re the worst.”
He laughed and I didn’t realize how much I missed the sound.
“Will you go with me to the city? I have a feeling this is going to need to be face-to-face.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll have to find a contract lawyer and an agent. But I think I’m going to break the contract. I’ll have to give the money back, but luckily I’ve only gotten the first twenty-five percent. It’s going to be a long slog to fix all of this.”
“How did Monte take it?”
“She’s pissed I didn’t come to her sooner, but she understands me. And wants to kick Christopher’s ass herself.”
“Get in line.”
He pulled my hand up to his lips. “I can handle it. No matter how long it takes. And Monte wants to see the new book.”
“Of course she does.”
“This might take years to fix.”
“Handily, I’m not going anywhere.”
The relief in his eyes made me even more sure that I was exactly where I should be. And he was my future in every iteration.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Dutch
The lake was goingto have to wait. Once the ball was rolling with my publisher, I spent every day in meetings both teleconference and on the phone.
I was ready to say screw it and move to Fiji.
I had enough money to live comfortably even if I ended up giving my advance back to Raven Boulevard. Unfortunately breaking a contract wasn’t as easy as giving money back to them. There was a stipulation of rights of first refusal of my next book in every one of my contracts. You couldn’t exactly delete one and just toss it out the window.
Which is why I now had two lawyers.
Fuck.
“Dutch!”
“One sec,” I called from my office. Because I’d been interrupted every damn minute with calls, I was behind on what I was actually supposed to be doing—writing.
A low growl followed by a sharp bark had me straightening up. Mouse might be ninety percent Great Pyrenees, but he wasn’t really all that vocal when it came to guarding the house. I closed my laptop and hurried down the hallway to the livingroom. Phoebe was in a pair of shorts and ripped sweatshirt that hung off her shoulder. She’d been baking all morning between the two houses for her brother’s birthday party later that day.
She was holding Mouse by the collar. Suddenly the dog lunged forward. I hurried over to grab him from her.
“What’s going on?”
