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“It’s only fair that he knows who runs this company,” Oliver insisted. “I’ve got his email on the marketing plan, so I could contact him that way, but I think it would be better if it came through a phone call.”
“Oliver,” Jake warned.
“He has a right to know who he’s publishing with in case he wants to pull out. If he finds out after, you know he could sue.”
Jake’s face fell. “I swear to God you live to make my life difficult.”
“I’ve not done a thing,” Oliver protested, but any other words died in his throat as Jake began to scribble something down on a piece of paper. He slid it across the desk, and Oliver looked down at a local number he didn’t recognize.
Slipping the number into his pocket, Oliver pushed up to his feet and cleared his throat. “I erm…I think I’m going to take the day off.”
“Mm,” Jake muttered, waving his hand. “You do that. And don’t fuck this up for me, Sasaki. This book will make good money.”
Oliver wanted to say something rude or snarky, maybe even push it far enough to see if Jake had the balls to fire him, but instead he turned on his heel and left. Ignoring Kristen’s imploring gaze, he slipped into an elevator and rode down to the ground floor.
The air outside, the foggy, almost refreshing breeze, was the only thing keeping him together as he started off down the street. The number in his pocket was almost burning, fierce and begging for him to do something. To call. To text.
Oliver found himself collapsing in a chair in the patio area of a café, the number in his hand, mumbling an order to the server. He was staring between the piece of paper and his phone, and eventually he entered the number into his contacts.
He wasn’t sure how to go forward, and suddenly he was hitting Leo’s number and saying a prayer he was catching his sibling between lectures. When it rang and rang, he nearly cried until a rushed voice picked up.
“Someone had better be dead.”
“I found Gabriel.”
After a long pause, Leo let out a heavy groan. “How? Where?”
He took five minutes to explain the entire story, and by the end, he was almost sobbing. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this, Leo?”
“Obviously fucking call him,” Leo said sternly. “The universe is sending you clear signs. You have not been over him since the moment you met him.”
“He’s moved on though,” Oliver groaned, dropping his head so low, it made contact with the chilled, metal table. “In his book, he…”
“That’s fiction, you absolute twat,” Leo barked. “You think he wrote an autobiography?”
“He practically did,” Oliver said with a sigh. “I mean, cleverly hidden, but to the person who lived it, it’s obvious.”
“You have to tell him you read it,” Leo said.
“I know that,” Oliver snapped. “But what the shitting hell do I actually say? Ring him up like, Oh hi there, Gabriel. Remember that day I tore both our hearts out because I was a piece of shit, and left you stood on the side of the road without even a proper goodbye? Well, I’m an editor now, and your book just came into my queue.”
“That actually works,” Leo said.
“Fuck off, it does not,” Oliver hissed. He lifted his head when the server returned with his latte, and he drank down half like it was full of liquor. Wincing at the violent burn on his tongue, he sat back and put one hand over his face. “I’m willing to bet he won’t come anywhere near me if he knows I’m editing this.”
“Areyou editing it?” Leo challenged.
“Well no, actually. I’m returning it to the woman I took it from, but that’s not the point. I doubt he’ll even take my call once he sees my name.”
“So, use your little penname or whatever it is and tell him you want to have an in-person chat.”
“Isn’t that kind of awful?” Oliver asked.
“I don’t think there’s any way you can be less awful in this situation,” Leo pointed out. “At least it will get him to the meeting. Then you can say you’re sorry or whatever the bloody hell you want to say to him. You can tell him you don’t plan on halting the book, and you’ll be having someone who doesn’t know anything about the two of you handling it, so none of the content will be compromised. Then apologize for being a twat and confess you thought he deserved to hear that to his face and you’re sorry for misleading him with the fake name.”
Oliver froze, staring down at the fading foam in his latte. “When the hell did you become my voice of reason?”
“I’ve had that role since forever,” Leo said impatiently. “And you know it. Anyway, I’m missing one my most important lectures for the day so if there’s nothing else…”
