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I clenched my jaw, frustrated that she’d been unsure enough of herself that she’d even gone to this writing coach. “Ava, you’ve been working your ass off to expand your writing. You expanded your writing. You overdid it? That’s fantastic. That’s what we wanted.”
“I wanted good writing.”
“You’re a damn good writer. Stop it.”
“I’m holding you back, Knox,” she said quietly. “We’re spending so much time on me trying to figure out the right balance that we can’t move forward.”
“We’re almost to the midpoint of the rough draft. That’s progress.”
“But my last three chapters are overwritten.”
I couldn’t help a grin. “Ava, come on. Listen to what you’re saying. You overwrote. Your problem before was underwriting. This is a win.”
She looked at me finally, her expression saying I was crazy. “Overwriting is not good writing.”
“But you can edit it down. We can edit it down. Three chapters of overwriting? We’ll go through it together and fine-tune it. Piece of cake. Compared to vomiting out extra words and details, polishing is nothing.”
“I can’t figure out the balance. I don’t know if I ever will.”
“Whatever, Ms. Professional Writer. You’re smart. Give yourself half a minute to adjust.”
Her shoulders lifted with an inhalation, then relaxed slightly with the breath out, her gaze averted to the counter again.
“Don’t you dare even think about making me go solo,” I said.
“I’m not going to make you go solo.”
“Promise?” I leaned down to try to get her to meet my gaze.
“I promise,” she finally said begrudgingly when she glanced at me.
“Thank God.” I injected lightness into my tone. “We’ve got two characters halfway to falling in love, and I can’t get them there by myself. I don’t know a thing about romance.”
Now she raised her head and looked me directly in the eye, her brows climbing her forehead. “Really though?” Her tone was deliberate. Stronger. None of the unsure writer of two minutes ago.
I became wary, narrowing my eyes at her. “Really. Remember me? Fantasy and sci-fi guy?”
“Are you sure you’re not romancing your nanny?”
My eyes went wide, and I reared my head back before I could control the reaction. “Where did that come from?” I asked, trying to play it cool while I gathered my thoughts.
In a one eighty from the distraught woman I’d found when I showed up, she tilted her head and studied me. “I notice you didn’t deny it.”
Hell. She wasn’t going to let this go. It wasn’t a random attempt to divert the focus from her to me. I suspected she’d been dying to ask me about Quincy for some time. I was surprised she hadn’t before now based on a couple of veiled comments she’d made.
I picked up my bottle, swigged half of it down, and decided to be honest.
“You’ll keep this between us?” I asked, still holding my bottle.
“Of course.” She said nothing else, just eyed me. Waited.
“Quincy and I are…involved.”
I couldn’t bring myself to use the wordromancing. I wasn’t sure what that entailed, though I didn’t think it meant just shagging for shagging’s sake.
My lids closed with that thought because…I was lying to myself if I said it was just sex between us.
It’d become more.
