Page 13 of The Write Midlife

She shook her head, feeling a mix of disappointment and anger. "I can't believe this. I thought you understood my work. I thought you respected it."

"I do respect it," Nate insisted, moving closer. "Melody, please. Let's just talk about this. We can find a solution that works for both of us."

But she was already grabbing her bag, heading for the door. "I need some air. And time to think about whether I want to continue working with a publishing house that doesn't value artistic integrity."

Nate called after her, but she was already out the door, her heels clicking angrily against the polished floor as she made her way to the elevator.

As the doors closed, she caught a glimpse of Nate in the hallway, looking frustrated and... something else. Regretful, maybe?

She leaned against the elevator wall, closing her eyes. This was a disaster. Not only was her new editor the guy she couldn't stop thinking about, but he also wanted to change everything about her writing. And the worst part? A tiny, traitorous part of her wanted to hear him out, just to spend more time with him.

The elevator dinged, depositing her back in the lobby. She marched through, ignoring the receptionist's cheerful goodbye. Once outside, she gulped in the damp Seattle air, trying to clear her head.

She started walking, no real destination in mind. Her thoughts were a jumble of professional outrage and personal confusion. How was she supposed to work with Nate? How could she trust his editorial judgment when she couldn't even trust him to leave his phone number after a one-night stand?

And yet... the way he talked about her books. The genuine appreciation in his eyes when he mentioned specific scenes. It was more than just flattery; he really had read them. Really understood them.

She groaned, stopping to lean against a building. This was going to be complicated. Messy. Exactly the kind of love story she would write... if she wasn't living it.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Carmen:

How did the meeting go?

She stared at the screen, unsure how to even begin explaining this situation. Finally, she typed back.”

Remember that guy from the party? Turns out he's my new editor.

And he wants to change everything about my writing.

Carmen's response was immediate.

Holy plot twist, Batman! Come to my office NOW. We need to talk strategy

She sighed, hailing a taxi. As she gave the driver Carmen's address, she couldn't help but glance back at the Carlisle Publishing building. Somewhere up there, Nate was probably wondering what the hell just happened. Join the club, buddy.

This was going to be a wild ride. Part of her wanted to run screaming in the other direction. But a bigger part... a bigger part was intrigued. Challenged. And maybe, just maybe, a little excited.

After all, wasn't this exactly the kind of complex, messy, real-life romance she was always writing about?

She settled back into the taxi seat, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Well, Melody, she thought to herself. You wanted inspiration for your next book.

Be careful what you wish for.

SIX

Nate sat in his office,staring at the empty chair where Melody had sat just moments ago. The lingering scent of her perfume hung in the air, a haunting reminder of their unexpected encounter. His mind reeled, trying to process the cosmic joke that had just unfolded.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine. Or rather, I walk into hers. As her editor. After a one-night stand.

Fantastic.

He loosened his tie, feeling like it was choking him. The look on Melody's face when she realized who he was... It was a mix of shock, anger, and something else. Hurt, maybe? The memory of it twisted in his gut like a knife.

"Way to go, Nate," he growled at the ceiling. "You've really outdone yourself this time."

He reached for his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Alex's number. If anyone could help him make sense of this mess, it was him. He hit dial, praying Alex wasn't in the middle of saving lives or running drills with his crew.

"Nate! Bro!" Alex's cheerful voice came through after two rings. "Just got off shift. Perfect timing—I was about to crash fortwelve hours. What's up? Let me guess…You're calling to confess that I bagged more girls at St. George’s than you ever could?"