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“Go away. Respectfully.” That was the last word she’d say today. After a bit, the door clicked shut.
Another hour, maybe two, maybe three, passed. Dizzy and stiff, Mack sat up and dangled her legs off the bed until the blood circulated. Heavy with fatigue, she slogged down to the shower.
Admittedly, the shower, a bottle of water, and the sandwich that her mom not so subtly snuck into her bedroom helped. Mack cracked open the patio door, and a slight breeze carrying a hint of the salty Puget Sound traveled in.
Her phone rang, and her pulse launched up to her throat. She dashed across the room, and the adrenaline drained from her body when she saw Viviane’s name on the screen. A split-second contemplation of ignoring it passed before she answered.
“I hate you,” Viviane said in between sniffles. “Crooked Roots. I read it in two days. I neglected my kids, neglected the hubby, and now I’m bawling like a toddler who’s up past their bedtime.”
“So… you hate me in a good way?”
Viviane exhaled. “Mack. Youkilledit. It’s beautiful. Heartbreaking. Thrilling. I just… dammit, woman. I’m still processing.”
Praise from Viviane was a hot chocolate during a blizzard. Not knowing how she’d respond to the manuscript had weighed on Mack more than she realized.
“What’s the publisher going to say?” The book, at this point, was so deeply personal that Mack almost didn’t care.Almost.But at the end of the day, her work was also her business, and she needed to prepare herself for a potential disaster.
“I think they’re gonna love it. I really do. I’m going to schedule a meeting for Tuesday,” Viviane said. “But if by some chance they don’t, guaranteed we’ll find another home for this. Stellar work.”
Even with her heart shattered, Mack wanted to hug Viviane through the phone. After they wrapped up, Mack ached to call Charlie and tell her the good news. She rested against the patio railing and watched the city below. The faint buzz of people and cars traveled up the fourteen floors. A small breeze carried a hint of fern and wildfire smoke, and goose bumps erupted across her skin. She gripped the edge of the rail, leaned all the way back to stretch, and tried to pinpoint precisely when everything in her life went to shit and what she could do to get it back on track.
Armed with a shot of confidence from Viviane’s approval, Mack’s focus shifted.
New plan: Recovery Mission.
She had told Charlie she’d give her space. But that was Mack assuming she knew what Charlie needed. Maybe Charlie didn’t want space. Maybe Charlie wanted to see she was worth fighting for. Maybe Mack wouldn’t lie back and take this like a punk.
She refused to surrender without a fight.
After stepping back in the room, she tied her shoes and shoved her phone in her back pocket when there was a tap on the door.
“Knock, knock,” her mom said. “Honey… Charlie’s here to see you.”
Mack’s stomach dropped. Her heart lifted. Everything started sweating, even her earlobes.
She’s here.
She flattened her hair against her scalp and reached for a water bottle at the edge of the bed.
“Thanks, Kelli.” Charlie’s voice was timid behind the door. She tiptoed into the room. Dark circles lined her eyes, her face was pale, and her lips were absent of her signature red lipstick.
She looked the way Mack felt.
“Hey,” Mack finally said, her mouth simultaneously dry and wet.
“Hey.”
Mack didn’t know what to say. Of all the times in her life for her words to fail her, now took the prize for the single most inopportune. “I’m so sorry.”
Charlie’s eyes lowered to her fingers and she picked at her blue nail polish. A deep breath was pulled in and released. “I wanted to hate you.So bad. Analyzing me like that, like research, like some sort of detective case… I wanted to stay pissed at you forever.” Charlie crossed the room and took a seat on the bed. She plucked ather dress and paused for several long moments before she glimpsed at Mack. “I read your book.”
Mack’s breath halted. “You did?” And? What did she think? Not about plot lines or typos. Mack crossed fingers, toes, and a few internal organs, hoping to God the words translated Mack’s struggle.
“It’s fantastic.” Charlie resumed her nail polish picking. “The main character, Shelby, was incredible. The story was beautiful.”
Speak, Mack.
A loose tendril popped from Charlie’s ponytail, and she tucked it behind her ear. “I’m really hurt.”
