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“Hi, Harper,” I say.
“You’re alive!” she shrieks. “I should be happy about that, but it just confirms that you’ve been dodging my calls for nearly two weeks. I should drop you. I really should. It would eliminate virtually all the stress in my life if I didn’t have to chase you around and spend my time trying to further a career that you don’t seem to want.”
I exhale slowly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Things have been really busy, and I couldn’t get to the phone when you were calling.”
“And I suppose you didn’t have time to return calls, either?” Harper demands.
“I didn’t want to call until I had an answer.”
“Are you telling me you still don’t know about speaking at the conference? The program will be finalized in two weeks. I can’t hold a spot for you any longer. You’ve had weeks to think about this.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make a rushed decision, and I haven’t had time to really think through this.”
“Well, when can you think through this?” I can practically feel her gritted teeth.
“Honestly, probably not soon enough to make this deadline.”
It’s so silent I think the connection might have been broken. Or she’d hung up. Finally, Harper speaks. “Do you believe in signs?”
“Signs? Like what?”
“Well, the conference is in Denver this year, so no travel for you. A slot opened up that should have been filled months ago, and it’s been held open until the last possible deadline. You’ve built up a solid readership, and you’re poised to break into the big time, right when all these other doors are opening. I see signs all over the place. Do you?”
I think about everything Harper rattled off, and I have to admit there are a lot of things falling into place in the romance world. But there are also a lot of things falling into place in my everyday world, the one where I don’t need or even have a pen name. If things are happening in both places at once, how can I pick one over the other? And just like that, I have an answer for Harper.
“I hear what you’re saying, and I agree all those things you mention could be viewed as signs,” I concede. “But the same thing is happening in other areas of my life right now, and I don’t know how to choose to see the signs in one place and not the other. So I’m not going to choose. I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing.”
Harper exhales, but without the aggression she’d been radiating this whole conversation. That’s the great thing about Harper; she really does listen.
“You understand what you’re giving up?” Harper asks. “And you know it’s unlikely I’ll be able to get you another opportunity like this again?”
“If that’s true, then I’m making the right decision.”
“Will you at least go to the conference? It would be good to see what some of your fellow writers are up to, listen to the other speakers who will be there.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I say.
I peck away frantically at the keyboard, trying to finish the most recent funding application to cross my desk. We’ve applied to several incubator programs that could “nurture” the business concept and potentially introduce us to individuals or funds that might be interested in investing, and three pitch competitions specific to companies in the education industry, all of which have non-negotiable deadlines to meet. On top of that, I have the monthly blog to work on, which I’ve barely had time to research in between deadlines.
Aside from classes at the gym, my schedule has been strictly focused on Engage. That’s a definite change of pace, but not in a bad way. I tend to be pretty efficient on my own and don’t need pressing deadlines to get my work done. But I am accustomed to working on my own schedule, which typically means working a few hours then taking a break to rug errands, clean up the house, cook dinner, or just read for pleasure. Adhering to someone else’s schedule isn’t bad, just different, and as a result, most of the things I typically do in a week to stay organized haven’t occurred. My fridge is over half empty and my latest chapter still isn’t finished, which Harper fortunately hasn’t hounded me about yet. The only thing I’ve managed to do for myself, besides the gym, is pick what to do with Chris for our date.
When he left last week, I had no idea what to choose. We’re still learning about each other, which means so far all I know for certain is that he likes cars, likes to work with his hands, and appreciates meaningful conversation. He looks like an athlete, so I’m guessing he either likes the gym or the outdoors, but in March, outdoor activities in the city are limited. There’s always dinner, movies, bowling, or museums, but I wanted to pick something as original as his first pick had been. I was struggling until I remembered what he said about not having things in his house that speak about him, which helped me make a decision. I made the reservation just this morning, but I haven’t yet had time to tell Chris about it. I’m planning to call once this application is finished, but it’s taking longer than anticipated.
I pause to search my brain for the word I want and catch a shadow moving along the floor. I look up from my desk to see Chris standing in the doorway, watching me intently as I work. My pulse immediately accelerates. He’s easily the hottest man I’ve ever encountered, but somehow, casually leaning against the door in his jeans and flannel shirt, he smolders. That’s a term I always avoid in my books, but damn.
“What are you doing here?” I smile.
“You haven’t called me.”
“That’s why you’re here?” My heart flutters.
“That’s not why I’m at the office, but that’s why I’m at your door.”
“Oh, sorry. It’s been a crazy week.”
“So?”
“So, what?”
