I felt Nikki nudging me with her elbow. “Take your time, we’re gonna get a drink at Ru Ru anyway,” she called, and pulled me away quickly, before my mom had a chance to say otherwise. We cackled as we made our way down the street to Ru Ru, a small place we’d grown to like that served tapas and drinks. After catching my breath when we made it to the restaurant, I felt an odd pang in my chest, and it reminded me about Brooklyn and the day we first met. Was he off in another rehab, running away from nurses and spilling coffee all over someone else?
I looked back down the street, where my mom was still chatting with the man. She laughed at something he said, and the sight of it lifted my heart in my chest. She deserved to move forward, too, like Nikki and I were.
Twenty-eight
I wasn’t sure how I had initially gotten roped into Sunday brunch with Nikki and her friends, but by now bottomless mimosas and French toast with strawberries and bananas at a place downtown called Tides had become a staple in my weekend plans. I wasn’t complaining, but feeling like you really belonged somewhere took some getting used to. I wasalmostthere.
Nikki returned to our table with more mimosas from the bar, and Raquel eagerly grabbed two. Fallen leaves danced across the patio deck in the crisp autumn air. I pulled my cream sweater tighter over my chest as I reached for my drink. Raquel nudged me, almost spilling my mimosa on my jeans.
“Listen, babe, all I’m saying is my brother is very single and you are very much his type.” Raquel didn’t slur her words, but I could tell she’d had one mimosa too many as she pulled on the sleeve of my cardigan.
“Raquel, I appreciate it, but I already told you I’m not interested in dating anybody.” I wiggled out from under her grip. Nikki giggled from the other side of the table and shook her head.
My phone buzzed beside her, and an unknown number with a New York City area code popped up on the screen.
“I should take this,” I said before sliding out of my chair and walking to an empty corner of the patio.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m looking to speak to Natalie Owens,” a woman’s voice responded on the other end.
“Yes, this is her,” I responded. I started to pace around an empty table.
“Hi, Natalie, this is Marlene Hunt from the Hunt Agency, how are you today?”
I stopped pacing and felt my heart seize in my chest.
“Oh, um, I’m great, thank you. What can I do for you?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but my nerves were firing on overdrive. I’d submitted my manuscript to over fifteen agents in the last couple of weeks, but Marlene Hunt was at the top of my list. I hadn’t been expecting to hear back fromanyoneso quickly; publishing notoriously moved at a glacial pace.
“I’ve just finished reading through your manuscript, and I have to say I’m enthralled with your epistolary novel. The voices of the characters absolutely shine, and you’ve artfully crafted a story and a romance that is both sweet but so heartbreaking in a very clever way. I had to reach out to you.”
I couldn’t breathe, although I had to dosomethingbefore she thought I was brain dead.
“Thank you,” I finally blurted. “Wow. Thanks. That really means a lot to me.”
“The story feels incredibly personal,” she continued.
“It is. Some of it is fictional, but, yes, it’s very personal.”
“I especially liked JD.” There was a pause—one I wasn’t sure was intentional. “Too often people like him are portrayed negatively in fiction, but you know that’s not true. You made him someone to root for.”
Then and there, I knew shereallyunderstood, in the way that I did. “I agree, and I’m glad you think so.”
“Yes, well, I’d love to represent you and champion this novel for you. We can set up a Zoom call to go over it in more detail, and then I’ll give you some time to think on it.”
“Oh, of course, absolutely,” I replied, not bothering to hide the excitement in my voice. Why should I? I was getting something I wanted—something I’d worked hard for—and I was so over playing it chill and put-together. I had earned this. I knew I had. “I’m available anytime.”
“Perfect, my assistant will email you and we’ll be in touch.”
I hung up and clutched my phone tightly in my hands. I looked back at the table of Nikki and her friends cackling like crazy hyenas. I decided I would wait until I was alone with Nikki to tell her. I didn’t want to share the moment with anyone else.
>> <<
When I finally told Nikki during the car ride home about my call from Marlene Hunt, Nikki squealed so loudly that I thought I had burst an eardrum.
“Well,obviouslyshe liked the characters, one of them is based on me after all.” Nikki held her head up.
But what I didn’t tell Nikki was that JD was her favorite character in the story, because despite all of his problems and struggles with addiction, he tried so hard to be a good guy, and it made her want to root for him. It made me want to root for him too—the real version of him.
