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“LUCIAN,” I read the big block letters. “The man behind the mask.”
Kal eagerly pointed out that there was also a picture of Lucian inside the cover.
“I can’t believe I’m holding it in my hands.” I turned it over and examined it. “It seems so surreal.”
“It’s just a proof,” Kal explained. “But we’ll host a local event the week before release, and the preorders will be ready. We’ve already started marketing, and the response has been incredible so far.”
“What do I need to do?” I asked.
“Well, there really isn’t much at this point,” he said. “My publicity team has your social media up and running now, so that’s all taken care of. Other than that, we’ll just need you ready with a speech for the event, of course.”
I was nervous about the prospect of showing my face in public where there would be photos printed in the media. It was a complete one eighty from the way I used to live my life, and even though I’d published under the name Gypsy West, there was always a chance something from my past could come back to haunt me. It was a risk, but in this case, I wanted to believe the reward outweighed that.
“I’ll be there.” I smiled. “Rain or shine.”
“HI.”
“Hi, Nolan.” I edged open the door. “Would you like to come in?”
He glanced inside the house before shaking his head quickly. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m running late already, but I just wanted to stop by to make sure you were all right.”
The concern in his voice caught me off guard. “Is everything okay?”
“I saw a flyer for your book.” His expression was grim, and my stomach soured at the thought of what he might say.
“Oh?”
“It just made me think about the hate mail Lucian used to get,” he said. “I thought it might be a good idea to warn you that it could get messy.”
My throat tightened, and my voice was barely audible when I responded. “Why?”
“So many strong emotions were involved in his cases,” Nolan pointed out. “He received threats on a regular basis. I just worry about you and the baby.”
What he was saying made sense, if I stopped to consider it, but I really hadn’t. “I don’t think it will be an issue. The book is mostly just about how he lived his life. The kind of work he did and his beliefs. There are only small highlights about the cases themselves.”
“Still,” Nolan said wearily. “I just want you to be aware of what this book might bring about if you go through with it. I’d hate to see you caught off guard.”
I laid a hand over my belly protectively. “I understand, and I appreciate that. But I can’t cancel the book deal because everything’s already signed. Even if it weren’t, I think it’s important for people to know who Lucian really was.”
“I get that”—Nolan shrugged—“but the public’s perception might be different. The media likes to spin things for dramatic effect, you know that. There might be people who will say you are only turning this tale for the royalties.”
“I’m not,” I insisted. “The royalties are going to the women and children’s transitional house.”
“I’m just telling you what people might say. I’d rather you didn’t face that kind of hostility, but if you’re prepared for it—”
“They can say whatever they want,” I assured him. “All that matters is the truth.”
Nolan didn’t look convinced, but he checked his watch again and frowned. “I have to run, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t upset you, but I just wanted you to hear my thoughts. And I think it would be in your best interest to keep that in mind.”
“Thanks, Nolan.” I gave him a tight smile. “I appreciate it.”
“You take care now,” he said.
I wanted to. But when I shut the door behind him, I felt miserable all over again.
AT EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT, FOOD dictated my life. I was tired and ached everywhere, and it seemed like every night, I had a new craving that needed to be fed.
Luckily for me, Birdie had stuck around and offered to be my personal shopper, making runs to the grocery store every night for ice cream or whatever else I deemed necessary at the moment.
Tonight, we were supposed to be having dinner with Ace and Father Hawk. It had become our Sunday night ritual, and even though it was a very odd combination to have sitting at one dinner table, it just worked.
But as I prepared the pasta, I couldn’t help but notice that Birdie had been gone for a long time. I’d sent her out for garlic bread, and she promised to be back in few minutes. That was over an hour ago. When I walked out to the driveway to check that I hadn’t missed her pull up, Ace was already out there.
