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Viviane set her phone upside down on the podium.
Never a good sign.
“You know I have to ask.” Viviane’s deep brown eyes locked with Mack’s.
She squirmed under the weight of the look. “It’s good.”
Viviane lifted an eyebrow and remained silent.
“Do you use this tactic on your kids? Death-glare and silence until they speak?”
“Yes.” Viviane squeezed Mack’s forearm. “Come on, give me something.”
Hmmm.Found a muse. But she was innocent and sweet and completely unsuspecting that Mack exploited her trauma and mannerisms to build a murderer’s profile for her stories. And she deserved so much more, and the guilt slathered on thick, but she couldn’t stop because the content was too damn good and would elevate the manuscript. And she was falling for her,so hard, and didn’t know what to do.
“Going way better than it was a few weeks ago. Thank you, literary gods.”Mack finally offered after succumbing to the Viviane Pressure Cooker Gaze. “And I’m not leaving Seattle anytime soon.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I might stay until I finish the book.”
“Really?” Viviane angled her head. “Tell me more.”
Spilling the details about Charlie was the last thing Mack wanted to do right now. Viviane was Mack’s closest—only—friend, but she’d dig for details until Mack folded. “I’m taking the story in a bit of a different direction from the outline. More interiority.”
Viviane crossed her arms and leaned a hip into the podium. “Too much interiority’s dangerous to do with a thriller, Mack. People like to be kept on their toes and don’t care as much about feelings.”
“I know that,thank you.” She didn’t hide the sarcasm in her voice. “But I need to humanize Shelby a little more. I want everyone to love her as much as I love her. To see the reasons behind what she does. I know it’s a balance, but I think I’m nailing it.”
“What’s your word count?”
“Fifty-eight thousand as of yesterday.”
Viviane nodded. “Still behind schedule.”
Viviane never minced words. Her directness and no-BS nature drew Mack to her in the first place. But anything except Viviane’s undying love and approval always created heartburn.
“Mack. I’m just saying truths here.” She gripped her hand. “You know this, right? You got this.”
Mack’s chest tightened, and she tried to take a breath. With a little over a month until the deadline, she should be in her final stages of editing—not staring at a half-written book, praying it would finish itself. The amount given to her for the advance flashed in her mind, and she blinked the image away.
Those funds were gone—and without a finished manuscript, she had no way of paying it back.
Someone knocked on the door, and a woman with headphones and a clipboard peeked through the cracked door. “Ms. Ryder?”
“Please call me Mack.”
“We’ll be ready for final testing in fifteen.”
Mack reached for the water. She grabbed a notebook on the table and fanned her face, then darted to the mirror to confirm her shirt hadn’t creased. Breathing out even, slow breaths finally slowed her pounding heart.
“Something else is up with you.” Viviane rolled a chair closer to Mack. “You wanna tell me why you seem different than the last time I saw you?”
“Huh? Nothing’s different.”
Viviane cracked a smile. “Did you meet someone?”
The warmth now extended past Mack’s chest and blasted directly to her neck and cheeks.
