Page 44 of The Write Midlife

"Even if that anyone else has dreamy blue eyes and wants to revolutionize publishing with you?"

Melody laughed, feeling some of the tension leave her body. "Even then. Thanks, Hannah. I needed this."

"Anytime, sweetie. Just promise me one thing?"

"What's that?"

"When you and Nate finally get together, I get to be maid of honor at the wedding."

Melody spluttered, nearly dropping her phone. "Hannah!"

Her laughter filled the line. "Just saying! I've got a good feeling about this one, Mel. I mean, it’s been so long since you’ve made regular trips to Pleasure Town. And you deserve it. There’s nothing wrong with being mostly ‘Work’ with a dash of ‘Play’.”

After they hung up, Melody sat for a moment, letting Hannah's words sink in. She was right – Melody certainly didn’t mind the type of “play” Nate had introduced her to. But she also couldn't ignore her responsibilities.

She turned back to her laptop, a new determination filling her. She might not be ready to confront her feelings for Nate, but she could channel all this emotional turmoil into her writing. After all, isn't that what she did best? Turn real-life complexities into compelling fiction?

Her fingers flew over the keys as she dove back into Olivia's world. Her argument with her love interest took on new depth, fueled by Melody's own conflicted emotions. The words flowed freely now, charged with an intensity that wasn't there before.

Hours passed in a blur of creativity. When she finally looked up, the sun was setting, painting her apartment in hues of orange and pink. She stretched, feeling the satisfying pop of her spine.

"Well," she murmured to herself, "I guess Hannah was right about one thing. Work and play aren't mutually exclusive after all."

She saved her work, a sense of accomplishment washing over her. She might not have figured out her feelings for Nate, but she had made significant progress on her manuscript. It was a start.

As she closed her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Nate:

Just read your latest chapters. Brilliant work, Archer. Your characters' emotional depth is really shining through.

I’m heading to a dinner of my own tonight. But I’m thinking I may just owe you one as well…

Melody stared at the message, her heart doing a little flip. Professional, she reminded herself. We're keeping things professional.

She typed out a reply.

Thanks, Carlisle. Glad you're enjoying it.

A future dinner date sounds great – strictly business, of course.

His response came quickly.

Of course. Wouldn't dream of mixing business with pleasure. ;)

Melody laughed, shaking her head at his cheekiness. As she set her phone aside, excitement for tomorrow simmered beneath her skin. Professional boundaries or not, there was no denying the spark between them.

But that was a problem for tomorrow's Melody. Tonight, she had a date with her manuscript – and it was turning into one hell of a love story.

TWENTY-FOUR

Nate arrivedat the Summit Club's private dining room, the city sprawling beneath him like a glittering chessboard. The familiar scent of old books and coffee wafted through the air, but tonight it did little to calm his nerves. He remembered his first time in this room, twenty years ago.

He was fresh out of college, still learning to knot his own ties, watching his father command the space like a general on a battlefield. Back then, the massive table felt like an ocean, with his father's position at the head an unreachable shore.

Tonight, that same table felt more like a stage. And he was done playing a supporting role.

"Impeccable vintage, sir," the sommelier murmured, presenting a bottle to his father. It was tradition - Liam Carlisle always approved the wine. Always sat at the head. Always controlled the rhythm of these meetings.

But traditions, like books, needed updating sometimes.