Page 80 of Not a Strong Enough Word

“I couldn’t,” I say. “But I can’t see any way out of this with all the pieces of me intact, either.”

He drops his hands and takes a step back from me, and the loss of contact is so unexpected, I gasp. But the look on his face is one of pure devastation. He shakes his head slowly as he says, “You’re pulling the book.”

Straightening my spine, I feign the confidence I need to get through this. “I have to. I won’t survive another round. And please don’t tell me it’ll be different this time. It doesn’t matter.”

Ryan’s expression hardens, and fear settles deep in my gut. Despite all the reassurances—that I am more than my books, that he loves me for who I am and not what I write, that he’ll stay by my side no matter what—my books have never truly been off the table. When words and souls and bodies are so wrapped up that you don’t know where one ends and the other begins, what happens if one of those is untangled? Does the whole thing unravel?

“The world needs this book.” His voice is firm. “You’re not going to let some asshole win, are you? This won’t last forever. They’ll convince JMP that signing you was a good move, and then it’ll be over.”

“It’s more than just what Charles did.” I sink into an empty chair. “You and I both know that once they realize how much they can make if I play along, they’ll never let me rest again. We like to tell ourselves that it’s about the art, not the money. And that’s true to some extent…until someone makes a bunch of the latter.” I turn my gaze up to meet his again, needing him to understand. “I loved writing all my books, Ryan. They’re all pieces of me, and the fact that each one of them has gone through you in one way or another only makes them more special. But I can’t take part in another money-making scheme that involves these books I love so much. It won’t make me happy. I want to be happy.”

I turn my eyes to him, internally pleading for him to understand. All I’ve ever wanted was to exist with my words. With him. I can’t do that with so many other people in the mix. And I certainly can’t do that when I’m not actually with him, when I’m traveling the country living for phone calls and counting sleeps.

Ryan falls to his knees in front of me. He cups my face with his hands, and I have no choice but to look right into his brown eyes. “You’re a writer. You’re the best damn writer I’ve ever worked with. You cannot let Charles Hall take that away from you.”

“I’m not letting him take anything,” I counter. “I’m making a very conscious decision to keep it for myself.”

He shakes his head again, narrowing his eyes. “Then don’t let him take it away from the rest of the world who needs it.”

“From the rest of the world? Or from you?”

Ryan flinches, and his fingers go stiff where they rest at my temples, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not leaving you. I already told you that. But I think you need to decide if you can be with a different version of me. One who isn’t a best-selling author. One who is messier than maybe you even thought, given everything we talked about yesterday. Because that’s all I have to offer.” I take a deep breath. “This is me, and this is what I need. And I know now that I’m worth more than my job, but instead of supporting this decision, you’re yet again ignoring what this is going to do to me and begging me to make the best of the cards I’m being dealt. For what? For some anonymous audience who might feel something when they read my books? Or for you? Because this stopped being about me the minute they mentioned book clubs and tours and saving their own asses, and you know it.”

“It’s not about me,” he says, but I’m not convinced. “Where is the Scarlett who told Charles where he could shove it earlier today? You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”

“This is strength, Ryan. I need to be strong enough to recognize that no matter what I do, this is going to keep happening. And then, I need to be strong enough to walk away and stay away.”

“No,” he says quietly, disappointment stretching the word and making it linger in the space between us. He rocks back on his heels and drops his hands to my knees. “I don’t believe this is what you truly want.”

I throw my hands up. “Of course this isn’t what I want!” I exclaim. “All I’ve ever wanted is to write my little books and live my life and love you. Things just keep getting bigger and bigger without any input from me. I can’t write myself out of this one.”

Ryan jumps to his feet. “Yes, you can.” He punctuates each word with a point of his finger at me. “I saw you take Charles down about five pegs today. I was going to jump in and help, but you didn’t even need me. You weren’t going to let him have any satisfaction. I saw a fire in you that I haven’t seen in so long. But it’s still there. You still have it. Stoke those flames, Scarlett. Take the life you want. Grab it and make it yours.”

I stand, too. Somehow, it seems better to be standing when you shout at someone. “That’s not how any of this works! This doesn’t have a happy ending. I might have taken him down a peg, but Charles got what he wanted. And one way or another, Anastasios will get what he wants, too. Because I’ll either go along with his plan or I’ll be out of his hair. The only agency I have here is to choose between two bad options, so I’m going to choose the one that saves at least a part of me”—my voice cracks on the word—“not the words I wrote on a page.”

He stiffens suddenly and runs a hand through his hair. Letting out a forceful breath, he drops his arm back to his side. “You are more than your words,” he says quietly. “I’ve told you that before, and I meant it. I’ll love you forever; I meant that, too. But this isn’t how it ends, Scarlett. Charles won’t win. He doesn’t deserve it.” His eyes meet mine, and I can’t help feeling like it seems final. “But you do. Be strong enough to take it back.”

Without another word, he stalks to the door, opens it, and leaves.

Chapter 36

Ryan

Walking away from Scarlett has to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But between the miscarriage and the book, I don’t know where my head is at anymore. She doesn’t need my confusion right now. She’s already making stupid decisions based on a couple of bad days, and it didn’t seem like anything I was saying would change her mind. So, I left.

Once I get a chance to collect my thoughts, I’ll go back to her with a more rational argument about why she’s doing the wrong thing. Maybe I’ll devise a plan for her. I’ll title it Ten Steps to the Life You Want. No, too close to a self-help book. More like Why the Bad Guy Can’t Win. I’ll even put together a presentation. What the hell else am I doing? Not editing her book. That was yet another thing ripped out from under me today.

Charles fucking Hall cannot have the last laugh here. I won’t allow it. I don’t care if life isn’t a book with a happy ending. It simply cannot happen. Even if he gets to keep his deal, he shouldn’t get to make Scarlett give up hers in the process.

I check my phone before starting my car, but there aren’t any messages. After Anastasios kicked us out of his office, I left before I heard any news about whatever phone calls he was making in there. Casey told me he’d update me if he heard anything before practically shoving me out the door. He could tell how nervous I was about Scarlett. I couldn’t lose her again.

And yet, here I am, driving away from her apartment instead of folding her into my arms and telling her everything will be all right.

When I pull up to a stoplight, I call Casey. I’m sure he doesn’t have news about Charles, but I’m already sick of sitting alone with my own thoughts. His phone rings a few times over my speakers before he answers.

“How is she?” he asks by way of greeting.