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“We saw each other yesterday at the group therapy session. Since it was my first time, she came over to me. We chatted. So, naturally when we saw each other today—”
“I’m not blind or stupid, Calder. I know what I saw, so don’t waste your bullshit on me.”
“You don’t have a monopoly on bullshit, Shauna. You think I don’t know that all those trips you took to Austin—”
“I told you why I had to go back and forth. I was covering the abortion bill debate.”
“And fucking your cameraman. Your married-with-children cameraman.” He chuffed. “You called or texted me several times a day. Since you rarely do that while working, it was easy enough to figure out the reason for this sudden outpouring of affection. I could smell the bullshit through the phone.”
“You’re guessing.”
“No. I’m not.” He gave her a look that dared her to try to lie to him.
She held on to her indignation, but when she saw that he wasn’t going to yield, she said, “That was months ago. Why didn’t you accuse me then?”
“Because I didn’t care.”
She swelled up like a puff adder. “So why bring it up now? To salve your guilty conscience?” She made a scornful sound. “You should have seen the way you watched her as she walked away. As thoughpining. Is she the reason we haven’t had sex in two months?”
“No.”
“Or why you while away hours each day in front of a silent TV? Or why you canceled a six-figure contract, why you do nothing constructive with your time, but only drag around and mope?”
“I did something constructive this morning.”
“Oh, really? What?”
He stood up. “I moved out.”
“I’m sorry, Laura. I know it’s not the status report you wanted to hear.”
After returning home from the meeting at the precinct, Elle had sat down at her computer, determined to produce something. Even if what she wrote was terrible, she needed the confidence booster of writingsomething. She set herself a minimum goal of composing at least two lines of dialogue.
But after several hours of staring into space, dwelling not on her storyline but on her two meetings at the precinct, the one that had taken place inside and the one with Calder outside, she had gathered her courage and called her literary agent. Better that she preemptively notify Laura of her lack of progress than wait in dread for Laura to inquire.
Laura was understanding. “Elle, your work ethic surpasses that of any other writer this agency represents. And because you thrive on the storytelling itself, I know that you’re more frustrated by this dry spell than anyone. You lost a child. No one expects you to jump right back in.”
When her pregnancy was confirmed, Elle had acknowledged to herself that selling real estate wouldn’t be compatible with having an infant. Glenda had tried to persuade her to take a leave of absence, to give herself several months to think it over before taking such a giant leap that included a new career path in addition to motherhood and relocation.
But Elle’s mind had been made up. Unbeknownst to Glenda, she’d been ready to make a change even before Charlie was conceived.
While pregnant, she’d undertaken the nesting process. During the day, she’d worked on the house. Her evenings were spent making notes for her first book.
She had submitted an outline to Laura’s agency the day before going into labor. Charlie was four months old before she heard back. The voice mail message, left two days earlier, had been straightforward. “My name is Laura Musgrave. Your story concept is charming. Let’s talk.” Elle had called her immediately.
Now, in reply to Laura’s attempted soothing, she said, “It is very frustrating. I need to lose myself in something. I thought that resuming work on the book would be grounding, that it would give me something else to focus on and help keep the grief at bay.” She placed her head in her hands and massaged her temples. “What does the publisher say about the delay?”
“They’re not worried.”
“Laura. I’m a grown-up. Give it to me straight.”
“All right. I did get a call from your editor yesterday. It was a gentle probe, but a probe nonetheless.”
“Will they ask for their advance back?”
“No. Lord, no. We’re nowhere near that point. He asked about your progress only for the purpose of scheduling the publication. Art, marketing, sales, every department wants to know when they can expect this second book. Which should be very good news to you. They’re eager to get it out there in the marketplace, which is hot for Betsy books.”
“What is he thinking in terms of a pub date?”
