Page 87 of Not on the Same Page

“Don’t you want to wait until I have a plan or something?”

“Were you not listening to the part where I basically poured my heart out to tell you how much you mean to me? I’d follow you anywhere, Trina. You’re going to have to do something a lot more bonkers than starting your own literary agency to get rid of me.”

“I don’t ever want to get rid of you,” I whisper.

“Good.”

Laughing wetly, I press a palm to my forehead. “I don’t have a contract for you. I wasn’t ready for this.” I glance out the window and am surprised to see dark gray clouds on the horizon. If I believed in signs, I might think those clouds were an omen, but I’m ready for a storm.

“Eh,” Scarlett says as if she’s shrugging. “What we’ve got going on is stronger than a signature on a piece of paper.”

“Damn.” I start crying harder. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You know, there’s something poetic about being your first client with Northbridge, and now your first client at this new endeavor. It’s almost like we were meant to be.” She laughs to herself again. “You were the best decision I ever made, Trina. I hope you know that.”

“Same,” I say without hesitation.

We talk for a little while longer. Ryan comes home, and I fight the pang of jealousy when Scarlett clearly wants to get off the phone to go spend time with him. I wonder vaguely if Casey told Ryan anything about us—if he knows we were even together, or that we’re not anymore. But I don’t ask. Instead, I say goodbye to Scarlett, then turn my phone off. I’m sick of waiting on pins and needles for a call that isn’t coming. And getting scared of the calls that are coming in.

Scarlett’s call was a powerful reminder that things might look bleak right now, but she’s living proof that they won’t be bad forever. Even if Casey and I are so far off the same page that we’re in separate books, signing Scarlett again is a major win—personally and professionally. I want to hang on to that feeling for as long as I can. And I’ll come up with a plan to at least tell Casey I’m sorry. Eventually.

I wish I could go back and tell nine-year-old me that things would be okay. That, one day, she’d have friends and a job worth doing. That, for a brief moment in time, she’d have a man who looked at her like she mattered. A man who let her be part of something close to a family. A man who felt like he could be family, if she’d let him.

Maybe things aren’t okay yet, but they will be. And I wish I could give nine-year-old me—terrified in the back of that car, flying to a new home all alone—a little bit of that faith.

For now, I have to hold that faith close, like a fragile little bird, and repeat it like a mantra until I believe it—It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.

Even if I can’t possibly see how it’ll be okay without Casey.

30

CASEY

The air feels heavy, even inside. I’m pretty sure it’s just my mood weighing everything down like it has been since yesterday, until I look out the window and see storm clouds in the distance. I study the contrast between the bright blue sky and the dark-as-night clouds lingering over the horizon.

The purple clouds remind me of the bags that started appearing under Trina’s eyes not too long ago. And as soon as that image hits me, I pinch my temples between my thumb and forefinger, squeezing my eyes shut to try and get rid of it. I haven’t heard from her since I sent the publicity plan yesterday, and even though I know she needs time to go over it herself and with Imani, I’m a lovesick puppy waiting for a call.

“I was too hard on her,” I mutter to myself. “Fuck.” I bring my fist down hard on the desk. In trying to prove myself in the industry, I missed what was important—proving to her that I was a man worth my salt. One she’d want to be with. One who could take care of her, not just physically, but emotionally too.

“Everything okay?” Ryan asks from the doorway. I glance up at him, unsure of how long he’s been standing there but realizing it doesn’t matter. I don’t have a handle on anything right now, and it’s pointless to pretend I do.

“No,” I say simply.

Ryan frowns and invites himself into my office and sits in one of the chairs. “Anything I can help with?”

“Not unless you can find a way to professionally tell another editor to fuck off and stop ruining my life.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, but he purses his lips against an infuriating smile. “I don’t know what that’s all about, but you do know that words are kind of your thing, right? I’m sure you could figure out something to say.”

“We put together an incredible plan to position Imani’s book,” I admit, “but there’s nothing I can say to that man that would maintain my professional integrity.” I tap my fingers on top of my desk as I glance at my phone. “I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

“So hit him where it hurts,” Ryan suggests. “Don’t you have a particular agent in your corner who would be willing to help you find the best young adult books out there and fill your catalog?”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Ryan makes a small noise. “Well, shit.”

I pinch my temples again, feeling a headache starting. “Look, the short version is that Ashton Cochran of Halo Sun has been spreading lies about how I do business and poaching authors from Starlight. Trina asked me about it, and I got stupidly defensive, so now we’re…I don’t know. Not good. But I have to figure out a way to position Imani’s book ahead of whatever drivel he’s releasing on the same day—probably just to piss me off—and somehow fill out my spring season in a way that will show I can be more successful than him. And I have to do it all knowing that I had an incredible woman I let slip through my fingers because of my own insecurities. So, I don’t really have time for this, Ryan.” I level a glare in his direction.