Page 80 of The Perfect Rom-Com

His eyes shift to my shoulders drooping further and further by the moment. “I did have some positive conversations.”

“With who—”

“And I think it won’t be too much longer until I have them convinced. Patience, Bryony.”

He leans in, kissing my temple as though to smooth away the tension throbbing in my head. “Rest assured, I have you top of mind in everything I’m doing.”

“I bet you say that to all your authors,” I mumble.

“And you have every right to be frustrated. About everything. But . . . what if we got on the boat instead of hanging out here in the parking lot, considering they leave in ten minutes and I’ve promised to keep your plate loaded down with hush puppies and Amelia on the opposite side of the boat the whole night?”

I chew my bottom lip. “The whole night?”

“Whole night.”

I eye the cruise boat waiting just on the other side of the little boardwalk.

It’s a beautiful boat, and a beautiful evening in Charleston.

Sailboats bob everywhere in the water, bells dinging from them as they pass by. The riverboat floats large and proud, gleaming white with a giant red wheel at its stern. Lights are strung along the front of the boat, where people are already gathered. Mingling.

It’s the first event that isn’t just about Amelia in the spotlight. The first event where Amelia is sharing the limelight with two other well-known authors for a sunset book-themed cruise.

My stomach growls. “I suppose I can table this conversation until after we try out their lobster bisque.”

“More lobster bisque?” He grins slightly as he takes my arm. We turn toward the gangway.

“It’s an obsession at this point. I feel compelled to try it in every restaurant we end up at. Do you think it’s possible to poison yourself from too much lobster?”

“Compared to your previous life of eating too many ramen noodles? I think you’ll make it another week.”

And as we step onto the riverboat, a lightness comes over me. It’s very possible I over-romanticize my life, treating the dialogues of my day like I do on the page, but there’s something symbolic to what he says as we finish our words on the subject of my struggles and move on to the festivities around us. I can make it another week.

That’s all I have to do here with this launch.

Amelia may be out to ruin my happiness. Amelia may be exhausting my patience. But as often happens in life, the greatest joys and greatest struggles tend to be delivered to your doorstep in the same basket. And it’s up to you to dissect the two and embrace the good without letting the bad overcome. That’s been a hard-won lesson after losing my mother and getting a front-row seat to the true hardships my students face every day.

And honestly, if everything that has happened with Jack only would have happened if I lived with Amelia, then I would move into this bus all over again. Sure, I might be tempted to kill her. But I’d make the move.

Chapter 16

True to his promise, Jack has stood by my side the whole evening. He also, to his credit, has kept the hush puppies coming—though after the fourth trip, I was cut off.

The riverboat cruise down the Charleston Harbor was a glorious mix of both peaceful and energizing. The wheel slowly churning and pouring water from one bucket to another. The hum of readers and industry pros chatting about all things books. The serene beauty of the surroundings. And occasional input about the current ranking in the PGA John Deere Classic from some husbands sneaking looks at the game on their phones.

I find myself settling at the front of the ship. It’s quieter here, tucked away from where the authors are set up talking with readers. They don’t technically have a designated meeting spot—their role is to mingle—but the second Amelia stepped on board, she spoke quietly to Penny, who rushed quietly to Garrett, who dashed quietly to the person in charge with the news that, essentially, it wasn’t her job to do the walking. That her doing the work would be self-deprecating and desperate. No, if people were so eager to talk, they would need to come to her, not the other way around.

So they quickly found her a chair.

It was a folding chair and, evidently, too “foldy” and cheap looking for her rosy backside.

Penny was tasked with informing someone that it was not “on brand.” You should’ve seen her face swallowing that one.

Anyway, they threw a crisp white tablecloth over it and tied some bows around the back of the chair, and that’s where Amelia is now.

There’s a pleasant drift of people around me now, and the saxophone from the live band lifts a little melody nicely into the air. A number of couples have taken to the dance floor not too far off, twirling slowly and whispering sweet nothings before stepping off again.

But for the fact that it took an act of Congress to get it through Amelia’s brain that I am off tonight and officially unavailable for carrying out any of the silly little duties she so likes to hand me in the name of assistant, I can almost forget entirely why we’re here.