“I’m starting to feel like I have almost everything I need to finish the book,” Peter said, “except for what happened with Drew.”
“I’ll put out some feelers,” Gwen said.
“Great. I’ll also need permissions from your museum and the Valdez Museum to publish copyrighted material. Otherwise, I think I’m ready to return to LA and get back to the manuscript.”
Gwen sipped her wine and tried not to reveal how much she dreaded saying goodbye to him.
“I also have a favor to ask,” Peter said.
“Fire away.”
He hesitated, then set down his fork and knife. “I’m wondering if you’d be my first reader when the book is complete. I’d love your feedback. And I should mention that I’m a very insecure writer, so essentially, I’ll be baring my soul to you and sweating about it. But I don’t think there’s anyone I would trust more than you to give me useful feedback and not totally gut me in the process.”
Gwen looked up from her salad. “I’d be honored.”
“And I have another favor to ask.” He paused. “Would you consider writing a foreword? I’ll need to talk to my editor about it. I have no idea how that works in terms of payment or ...”
Gwen interrupted him. “I’d love to. And again, I’m honored that you’re asking. If you like, we could discuss ideas about what you’d want me to say. We can talk about that after I read the book.”
He reached for his wine, his expression grateful and touched with a hint of disbelief. “I don’t know how to thank you, Gwen. None of this would have been possible without you.”
“It’s a two-way street.” She reached across the table and took hold of his hand. “I’m grateful that you came to me with this—and to have been included in the discovery process.”
He squeezed her hand. “It’s been an incredible week.”
She felt overcome. “Yes. In more ways than one.”
Learning about Valerie’s loss and knowing that she went on to live a full life was helping Gwen to better understand her own situation. She’d been living in such a state of denial these past two years, either trying to forget what happened or longing for her old life, wishing Eric would come back and make it like it was before. But today she felt as if she’d been plucked out of the muck. She was feeling light and mobile and looking outward, engaging with the world and seeing everything through a new lens.
Peter raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I’m glad we met.”
“Me too.”
They both sat back and returned to their dinners. Peter cut into his steak and kept his eyes lowered. “I do have a question, though. But I don’t want to make this awkward.”
Not knowing what to expect, Gwen stopped chewing.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said, “but I need to know. What’s going to happen with us?”
The question caught Gwen off guard. What exactly didhewant to happen?
“Like I told you,” he continued, still cutting his steak, “I need to get back to LA and finish the manuscript if I’m going to meet my deadline. And you’re going home to a husband who wants to get back together with you.”
“It’s complicated, isn’t it,” she said.
“Yes.” He looked at her, his eyes sharp and assessing. “Which is why I’d like to get it out in the open and agree about where we stand so that there aren’t any disappointments or misunderstandings about what’s going on here. Between us. Romantically, I mean.”
Oh, God.Gwen had no idea if he was worried about hearts getting broken—his or hers?—or if he was concerned about her withholdinghelp on the book if she, at any point, felt like a spurned lover. Or perhaps he saw this as a potential “sexual harassment at work” issue?
She thought carefully about how she should respond. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing “harassy” about this. All they had done was kiss, and there was no power differential. They were equals, so no worries there. But could one of them get hurt? Was that what this was truly about?
“This is a bit awkward, isn’t it,” she said with a hint of a smile, hoping to add some lightness to this weighty conversation. “It’s hard to answer without knowing whatyourthoughts are. Because if you’re worried about me feeling jilted or hurt, that’s not remotely close to the realm of possibilities here. We’re both adults, and I’ve enjoyed every minute with you, and I understand that you need to go back to LA. And I’m in a ... what’s the right word for this? An uncertain situation.”
“With Eric,” he said.
“Yes.” She reached for her wine and took a sip. “I honestly don’t know what to expect when I get home and see him, and I probably shouldn’t make any big decisions right now. You and I still have work to do at the museum tomorrow, and I don’t want to put a stop to this—whatever this is—because I want to enjoy our time together, whatever’s left of it. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Maybe never.” It was a bold finish, but she didn’t regret it.
Peter sat back, relaxing slightly. “Me neither. This has been amazing. I really like you, Gwen. I mean ... I like you a lot.”
