“Jane,” I cut her off, worried her head would explode if I didn’t. “You’re doing great. The party is going to be a huge success.” Assuming its host decided to make an appearance.
Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.” She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope, the one Matt had tried to give me yesterday. I balked. I didn’t need his charity. “Please, Dani,” she said. “Take it. You’ve earned it.”
I shook my head and told her, “No thanks.”
…
Matt
December 23rd, three days past deadline
I pulled my noise-canceling headphones over my ears and turned up the volume on the movie soundtrack I had been listening to for inspiration. I’d snuck out for a run while I let Jane deal with Dave, Kevin, and the rest back at the house.
I’d armed her with the newly edited first quarter of the manuscript—complete with dragons—while I got the hell out of the house.
About halfway down Stagecoach Run, Jane texted me. “They love the changes.”
Crap. Of course they did.
I slowed as I approached Linda’s house. For two days, I’d been holed up in my office by myself, not talking to anyone, and it was lonely. For the past six months or so, ever since the Comic Con fiasco, I’d lived a very reclusive life, and that worked for me. But then I moved here and started talking to Linda, and then, of course there was Dani…
Fighting back tears that I attempted to play off as my eyes’ reaction to the cold, I grinned big as Linda rushed out of her house and across her lawn, carrying a red and green pastry box. “I have cookies,” she shouted, waving her arm.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
She handed me the box, and I peeked inside. “What are these?”
“Pecan crescents.”
“They smell delicious,” I told her. “Thank you.”
“How have you been?” she asked. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”
“I’ve been busy.” I bit into one of the dry, crumbly cookies and choked down a tough swallow. “Revisions.”
“You finished the book, then?”
“Well, yeah. Sort of.” I checked out her house, which, over the course of the past few weeks, had become quite the winter wonderland, decorated with lights and garlands and holly and, naturally, the classy wicker reindeer. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” She perked up, no doubt anxious and eager for M.C. Bradford to pick her brain.
“What do you think about dragons?”
“In general?”
“In The Bastyan Saga.” I snuck another nibble of the cookie.
“Well…” Linda appeared deep in thought. “I’d never really considered it. The books seem so real, and whenever people talk about dragons in the story, it always feels like a myth, like Santa Claus or ghosts.”
I nodded, taking in her opinion. “What if the show or the books suddenly had dragons, like if one of the main characters came flying in on one?”
She wrinkled up her nose. “I’d probably assume somebody sold out.” She chuckled.
My chest tightened. “Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”
The phone in my pocket buzzed. Probably Jane again with more bad news disguised as good. I checked the text, and it wasn’t from Jane. It was from Dani. My heart skipped a beat.
“Hey,” she said. “Sorry to bother you, and I know it’s not my business, but I really think you should go to the premiere party. Jane has worked very hard, and you’d be letting her down. I’ll stay in the kitchen. You won’t even know I’m there.”
I ran my fingers through my hair.
“Everything okay?” Linda asked.
“Yeah,” I lied. Everything wasn’t fine. I was eating subpar cookies while selling out my life’s work. And I’d sent away the one person I cared about most in order to do that. I raised the box of cookies to Linda. “Thank you for these.”
“You’re welcome, Matt.” She grinned. “We’ll be watching the show tonight.”
“Me, too,” I told her.
I headed back the way I came, toward Dani’s house and mine, and I viewed my surroundings with fresh eyes. I’d only been here for a few weeks, but I felt more comfortable in this odd little resort town than I had anywhere else in recent years. Maybe I’d simply needed a fresh perspective, or maybe there was more to it than that.
I paused in front of the house on the other side of Dani’s parents’ place, the one with the “For Sale” sign. I snuck down the dark driveway and up onto the long front porch. I could put a swing out here. I’d always wanted one of those. My house in Indy didn’t have a spot for a swing. I peered into the front window. A large living room bled into a big, open kitchen. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall, allowing for an unobstructed view of the forest beyond.
Dani would love that kitchen. She could cook and bake while I worked at a desk in the corner on a manuscript for a brand-new series. Or not. After I closed out The Bastyan Saga, I’d only have to write if I wanted to. I could spend most of my time however I wanted—like doing projects around the house, the kind of stuff I never had time for in the past, such as building a fire pit in the back yard or weatherproofing my very own deck. At night, Dani and I could cuddle on the couch together, and I’d make her watch every single episode of The Simpsons. Okay, maybe we’d just stop after season thirteen or fourteen.
We could be happy here.
Or, well, we could’ve been.
I pulled out my phone again and reread her text. “You’re right,” I responded. “I should go.”
I held my finger over the send button and hesitated. Then I typed, “I’m sorry and I miss you.”
Again, I debated whether or not to send it.
No. I deleted the whole message. We’d already said everything that needed to be said. I’d hurt her, and it was time for both of us to move on.
I ran the rest of the way home and snuck into the house, which was full of people working and setting up for the party. The scent of vanilla and sugar permeated the place, and part of me longed to rush into the kitchen to apologize to Dani, but what would it matter? I was the guy who’d fired her and tried to hand her an envelope of cash.
Still, though I’d ruined everything with Dani, I could attempt to fix my professional life.
I knocked on Jane’s office door and let myself in. She, Dave, Kevin, and everyone else were sprawled around the room, on the bed and the floor.