Page 11 of Not a Strong Enough Word

Trina waves a hand in my direction. “See?” she says to Casey. “So find someone else to edit it.”

“We can,” I assure her, even though the thought of letting this book into someone else’s hands pains me. “I would still love the opportunity, but regardless, Casey and I were prepared to offer a lot of money to acquire this title. He can get over his hurt pride for the sake of the press.”

Scarlett winces at the mention of money, and Trina glances at her, as if checking in.

I frown at that. She was never one to balk at talk of money before. In fact, she never seemed to care about it, even in the end when JMP offered her over a million dollars for more. It was about the writing for her, she said. The importance of the art. Getting paid to do it was a bonus.

Casey and Trina start to go at it again, which has Meri looking like she’s trying very hard not to roll her eyes into the back of her head, but something about the way Scarlett has withered from the healthy version of herself I saw when I came in to whatever silent shell she’s become now has me on high alert.

“Stop,” I say. When they don’t hear me, I say it louder. “Stop.”

They do, then, and turn to look at me.

I clear my throat. “We’re all sitting here talking about this deal and this book and the author herself as if she’s not sitting right in front of us with opinions of her own. Yes, this deal would be important for Anastasios. Yes, we were all deceived. And yes, even before knowing who wrote it, this book has meant something to me that I can’t quite put into words. But I, for one, want to know what Scarlett thinks about this whole thing before we go any further.”

That gets her attention. Her brilliant blue eyes fly to me, and some of the tension releases from her shoulders and face.

There she is, I think as my heart skips a beat. I give her a small smile, and she returns the ghost of one across the table.

I expect her to reject this whole thing out of pocket and prepare for how much it’s going to sting when she does. But she keeps regarding me with those blue eyes, and I find myself mesmerized by them like I always was.

“You loved it?” she finally asks.

It takes me a second to realize she hasn’t just shot me down. It takes another to register the hope in the lift of her chin and the angle of her brows. One more and it dawns on me that she’s asking what I think, not because of any deal but because my opinion of her work still matters.

“Scarlett,” I say, and her name sounds pained on my lips, even to me. “Loved isn’t a strong enough word.”

Her eyes glisten as that hits home, like I knew it would. Everything goes still as I hold my breath, waiting for her to collect herself enough to respond.

“I want you to do it,” she says.

And that’s about when everything erupts again. Meri brings out her tablet to start drafting a marketing plan. Casey, begrudgingly on board, opens up his laptop to start taking notes on negotiations for the contract department to draw up paperwork.

Trina, to her credit, turns in her chair to fully face Scarlett and says, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Are you sure?”

Scarlett tears her eyes away from me to turn her attention to her agent. “No,” she says, and I have to chuckle at her honesty. “But he loved the book without knowing I wrote it, without any preconceived notions. And if I know Ryan…” She trails off and looks at me again. “There’s no one who will take care of my story the way he will.”

As if that weren’t enough to make my entire year, Scarlett smiles at me. It’s a soft smile, one that only teases at the corners of her lips, but it’s reflected in her eyes. It warms me from head to toe.

“I promise your book is in good hands,” I say, because I have to say something before this feeling completely consumes me.

“I know,” she replies with all the confidence in the world.

Chapter 7

Scarlett

Two days later, I’m sitting cross-legged on the couch in my therapist’s office, the decorative throw pillow in my lap the only barrier against whatever awful, emotional work she’s going to make me do after telling her exactly what happened in that meeting.

Dianne—as she’s insisted I call her for the past several years, ever since Trina dragged me in here to see her—stopped writing on her notepad about halfway into my story. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was engrossed in it.

“So you’re going to be working with Ryan on a book that they believe will be another bestseller after walking away from both him and a deal that could have resulted in multiple other bestsellers and completely cutting him and writing out of your life?”

Huh. Maybe she was engrossed in my story.

“That’s about the gist of it,” I say drily. “When you say it like that, it sounds like I’m making a huge mistake.”

“Do you feel like you’re making a mistake?”