Page 86 of Not a Strong Enough Word

My eyes widen in surprise. She’s not pulling her book. Those little bubbles of pride grow so fast, I’m afraid they might burst. And as I look around the table at the eyes trained on her, I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. Trina’s clearly in on this—her smug satisfaction makes sense now. Casey is trying to cover a smile with his hand. Even Meri looks impressed.

She’s going to do this the way she always wanted.

“You want this book.” She says it with a well-earned arrogance. “It will sell. We all know that. Everyone will love—or, at least, be interested in—my comeback story, even if we don’t shove it in their faces on every major network. In fact, people might be even more curious if we leave a little to the imagination, right, Meri?”

“It could work,” the publicist admits.

“It will work, because I’m good at this.” She flashes her sparkly interview smile with a sassy tilt of her head. Casey stifles a chuckle, and Meri huffs, amused. Scarlett turns serious again. “So, I am here to present my terms. They are nonnegotiable. First, we will not rush the release. You have free rein to publish any teasers or reveals you want or do whatever preorder campaigns you think might work, but the timeline remains. We take my pen name off the cover and use my real name from the start. No sense in playing that game anymore. And make it a good cover this time. I’m not an inexperienced author you can push around. Leverage my name in whatever way you choose. I will do one month of pre-release events and one month of post-release events. Two per week, sixteen total. Whichever events, wherever you want, but that’s my limit. After that, I’m coming home”—her voice cracks on the word, but she straightens her shoulders and carries on—“to write the next book. We can see how this goes and negotiate press for that one, but I have to tell you upfront that I won’t be willing to do much more than this.” She looks at me then and smiles. “I have other things I need to focus on.”

“I think we can work with that,” Meri chimes in. “In this case, if we pick the right events, more might not necessarily be better.”

“You’ve made your terms clear, Ms. Frye,” Anastasios says with no little amount of irritation. “We will need to discuss this.”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Scarlett flicks her gaze back to the rest of the table. Trina ticks up an eyebrow, clearly unaware there was more, but Scarlett lifts her chin in determination. “Just one last thing. If you want this book, you’ll let Ryan continue edits. You can kick the next one to whomever you feel is appropriate, but Ryan started this, and I want him to finish it with me.”

Anastasios’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. “We’ll talk about it and get back to you.”

Trina’s eyes bounce back and forth between Scarlett and me before she reclines in her chair and folds her arms over her chest. “You know this book will do exactly what you were expecting it to before. It’ll be good for your imprint and make you a ton of money. With Scarlett Frye’s name on it from the start, you’re in an even better position. I don’t think you understand that she almost quit entirely. As of yesterday afternoon, she was done. You’ve already broken your first contract with her. Someone else will scoop this book up in a heartbeat. She wants to stay here. Do not let her walk out of here without an answer.”

The silence that falls over the room is deafening. My heartbeat roars in my ears. Scarlett reaches over and grabs my hand under the table. She doesn’t look at me, but she squeezes once, and I squeeze back.

Whatever happens, she did exactly what I had hoped she would. She saw the life she wanted, and she reached out and took it.

It seems impossible, but I love her even more now than I did before. This brilliant, beautiful, bold woman is mine. And whatever comes at us now, we can handle it together.

“Okay,” Anastasios finally says. “We will draw up a contract with your terms and send it to your agent to review later today.”

The desire to jump up and whoop into the air is so strong that I have to physically grab the bottom of my chair to keep myself seated. With all the professionalism in the world, Scarlett thanks him, and we all stand to file out of the room.

In the hallway, Casey shakes our hands. Trina gives us hugs. They go back to his office to talk about another writer or something that I am too distracted to remember. I walk out to the parking lot with Scarlett, where I pull her to the side of the building and kiss her senseless. It feels like the perfect outlet for the giddy pride in her that started building while I watched her in that room. Lucky for me, she seems more than willing to kiss me right back.

“You tricked me,” I say into her skin when we come up for air.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your groveling,” she teases.

I nip at her ear. “You’re amazing. I love you.”

“Love isn’t a strong enough word,” she reminds me with a soft smile.

“No,” I say. “But you’re strong enough. We’re strong enough. And that’s really all that matters.”

“I like that.” She locks eyes with me, and we stand for a moment in the warm sunshine, smiling at each other like fools in love because we are. She may have won today, but I’m the real winner here. This brilliant, beautiful, strong woman is mine.

Eventually, we part ways—me back to the office to finish the edits on her book, and her to my condo to write until I get home. And when I do, I take her in my arms to kiss her and hold her. We eat tacos and make plans for all the things we want to do together, and when words inevitably fail us, as they are known to do, we spend the rest of the night showing each other exactly what it means to love.

Epilogue

Scarlett

One Year Later

I sit cross-legged on the chair in front of my desk in my newly renovated office, typing and deleting, typing and deleting. My hands are shaking so badly that I keep making stupid mistakes. Every few seconds, I glance at the timer I set on my phone. The numbers are moving slower than normal, I’m sure of it. Something must be wrong with it. Ryan’s going to be home any minute, and I can’t wait.

It didn’t take very long after signing my new deal with Anastasios Press for me to move in with him. I spent practically every night at his place anyway, so it only made sense. When Becoming came out, he had the cover—a much better one than the first—framed and hung it in the office, telling me it was my room now.

“Bestselling authors need offices, not desks in bedrooms,” he had said, and that was that.

The press tour was short. I know other outlets wanted to have me, but Trina fielded those calls expertly. And when it was time to pitch another book, she took that on as well. She’s been exactly the kind of agent I always needed—making sure I get breaks and keeping Anastasios in check when they get overeager.