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“And who’s right to tell you to send those five chapters off to Carlee, right now?”
“Oh, Marco, I haven’t finished polishing or—”
“You’re not standing there telling me what I just read isn’t polished up.”
She ended up wringing her hands after all. “I was going to go over it one more time after I finish going over what’s left to go over.”
“And who knows you well enough to know damn well that’s not because it needs it but because you’re afraid to let it go?”
She sighed hugely. “You do. I was just going to take a couple more weeks. Or so.”
“Go on in there, do it now. Now.” He put on his serious-as-fuck face, pulled a weak laugh out of her. “And make it fast before your breakfast gets cold.”
“If I do that, you’ll sit down and write those recipes.”
“Didn’t I pinky swear? You go pull the trigger, and after breakfast, I’ll pull mine.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
She didn’t hear from Carlee for two days, and filled her time to the brim and beyond so she wouldn’t obsess.
She obsessed anyway.
She worked with Marco on his recipes, just some fine-tuning. When it came to cooking, talking about cooking, writing about cooking, he had that elusive It.
When the call from New York came, she took the phone into her office while Marco put the finishing touches on the homemade pizza they’d share.
Just the two of them, as Keegan had business at the Capital and had taken Brian with him.
She walked back in just as Marco slid the pizza into the oven. “That is gonna begood.”
“That was Carlee.”
He stopped. “And?”
“She liked it. Whew. Big exhale. She liked it.”
“Because she’s not a fool.” He opened his arms, then grabbed her up into them.
“It’s too soon to celebrate. Well, maybe a little,” she added.
“Never too soon. I say we break out the faerie wine instead of the store-bought.”
“No, no, let’s stick with the store-bought. She said she’d like to send it to my editor, my publisher—and saying that’s never going to get old—if I’d send her a synopsis on the rest.”
“You can do that. That’s what you do. Look, if you want to take your pizza and go in and work—”
“No, you, me, Bollocks, pizza, wine, a movie. That’s what we planned, and just what I want. I told her to give me two more weeks.”
“Oh, girl.”
“No, no, no. Two weeks so I could polish up the rest, then send it to her. All of it. I just need the time to make sure it’s the best I can do.”
He smiled; he nodded. “That’s my girl. That sounds smart. And you’re going to give me five more chapters to read tonight so I’m not all lonely in my empty bed with Brian away.”
“Now I really need that wine.”
“Coming right up.” He smiled at her. “So proud, Breen.”
