“Wow. That’s a lot, Justin. Not gonna lie. It’s heavy.” Athena drags her finger around the rim of her mug. “It’s too heavy for a college kid, I know that for sure. But we both know with my family name, I know all about heavy, too.”
Savannah’s hand lands on my thigh, and she gives me a reassuring squeeze.
“Smart, strategic planning, but heavy as fuck.” Athena’s pensive face is almost more terrifying than her assessing face. “You’re right. I just wanted to make sure our girl was taken care of. But I’m also just nosy as hell. I have no idea how lucrative a career as an author is, or can be.”
I shrug. “It can be as lucrative as you want it to be if you’re willing to do the work. And it’s alotof work. Doing absolutely everything by yourself can be…draining.”
Savannah’s spine straightens as she bolts upright. “Oh! Oh! We could totally be a publishing powerhouse couple. I could learn to do some things to help you out.”
It’s a great idea. I know of at least a dozen authors who have supportive spouses who work right alongside them to grow their literary empire. And it would certainly allow me to spend more of my time writing, creating books, rather than fighting with ads, social media, marketing, accounting, and aaaaall the other business-y shit that my right-sided brain struggles with.
“I’d love that. But you really don’t need to give up on your dream just to help me with mine.”
“¿Por qué no dos?”
I almost forgot Athena was here too. Almost. But her piercing stare cuts through the room, and if I’d committed a crime I’d be running to the police station to confess. She’s…intense.
“Hen is right. Why can’t I do both? And who knows? Maybe your dream can be my dream too. The thing about dreams is, they’re flexible. You’re not restricted to just one. And you can change them if you want to. Sometimes you don’t know what your dreams are until you learn about them, until someone shows you what’s possible.”
She nudges me. “I have no plans to lose myself just so you can find yourself. But there’s no rule that says I can’t help you up the mountain a little.”
I kiss her hair, enjoying the warm buzz rolling through my veins. It’s definitely something I’ll think about, though there’s a seed of doubt laying roots in my stomach since I still haven’t told her that my next book is about her, about us, our story.
My editor has thankfully taken it from me in chunks, so I can keep writing. And sitting here, slurping on the marshmallow sludge at the bottom of my mug, I know how it needs to end. I think she’ll be happy, surprised, sure, but she won’t want to beat me to death with the hardback copy. At least I don’t think she will.
Though if she does, I know for sure that Athena will help her hide my body. Those two are as ride or die as my hockey brothers and I. There’s no escaping the fact that I’m not only in a relationship with Vannah, but her best friend as well.
It’s nice to know I’m not the only one looking out for my girl, even if I’m pretty sure it’ll be Athena, and not Vannah’s dad I’ll need to talk to when I need to get someone’s blessing to marry her.
CHAPTER29
Savannah
Ifeel like I’m living someone else’s life right now. Tabitha printed a retraction, or rather, a correction. She interviewed Justin over email—because God forbid she let anyone know who she really is over a face-to-face interview—and printed his side of the story. While she couldn’t take back outing his pen name, she’s announced that she’s going to spotlight one of his books every week and even offered to advertise his growing male-only romance book club. When she’d asked him why he didn’t tell people about his pen name from the get-go, his answer fragmented my heart into a bazillion pieces. He told her he was afraid people wouldn’t accept him.
Male author writing romance.
Jock writing romance.
Guy accused of cheating writing romance.
Apparently he had big feels, which, Tabitha reported, just made her feel even worse about outing him the way she did. Good. She should feel bad. What she did was pretty unforgivable in my book. It wasn’t her truth to tell.
My phone pings as I towel off after a shower. It’s an email telling me that Justin has a new book out today. Huh. No shit. Like I could forget. Today is his first ever in-person signing, and while it’s tempting to bring myentireJ.R. Blake collection to get signed, I’m not sure my lower back could take it. Plus, I already convinced him to sign all of them a couple of days ago—to work on his in person signature and small talk.
The truth is I’d really rather not have to fight off a throng of book bunnies to keep my stack from their hungry hands and end up on the local news for beating other women to death with a book.
I don’t know anything about this new book other than it’s already downloaded into my Kindle app and the title.Crushin’ at the Cafewasn’t on his release list for the year, and it’s got me all kinds of curious. I was going to wait until I picked up the paperback copy at the signing today but it’s burning through the phone in my palm and scorching my skin.
Wouldn’t hurt to take a peek at the first chapter, right?
An hour later, my hair has half-dried itself and I’m still wrapped in a towel, curled up on my bed, gripped. This is our story. He’s written a book about our very own romance, our journey to being together. Okay, so he’s taken some creative license here and there, but I’d recognize it anywhere. And I love it.
If I couldn’t tell from the story, the dedication of the book is a dead giveaway. It was written to me.
To Savannah
It might not be a perfect story, but it’s ours, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I love you more today than yesterday and can’t wait to see how much I love you for each of our tomorrows.
