“Did she really throw me under the bus? Does this count as bus throwage?”
“Joke about semantics all you want, but in the end, she just made a huge decision without discussing it with you first. I can’t believe she would do that.”
“Trust me, I’ve known her a lot longer, and I can’t believe it either. Though I guess it makes sense in a way. It’s not like she keeps me in the dark about how difficult things are for the entire industry. If anything, she talks about it enough that it makes me wonder if I should find a new career.”
“That’s still not an excuse! You can’t let her walk all over you like that.”
“You’re right, but I got her to agree with me in the end. I turn in the Santa book and do the publicity stuff for her, and then I can go on and do what I want.”
“What she did is unethical.”
“Is it though?” I wonder.
She is trying to help my career. Hers too, obviously, but still.
“I guess I don’t understand. Are you happy about this?”
“Endgame? Yes. Doing the interview stuff? Not so happy. I mean, hello, this is me we’re talking about. I have a hard enough time in one-on-one conversations with people I actually know. How the heck am I supposed to get through an interview? I’ll end up making a huge fool of myself, and then nobody will want to buy my books. The entire thing is going to blow up in all of our faces.”
“That’s my point.” He cocks his head to the side like he doesn’t understand. “But it’s more than that. A lot more.”
“What do you mean?”
“People are going to gravitate toward your story. I’m sure your publisher has tons of public relations people who will spin this in whatever way it takes to make you go viral.”
Viral. The word rings out like a gong in my head.
And it’s not a nice sensation.
“I didn’t think about that,” I admit.
“Your books will probably sell better than they ever have, but good luck ever getting a minute to yourself. You’ll be lucky if you aren’t mobbed on the street.”
“Now, that, I have a hard time believing.” I can’t help but chuckle softly. “I thought I was the one who usually imagined the worst-case scenarios. Aren’t you usually the one who stays calm?”
“I don’t usually have to worry about someone I care about having her life shredded by a bunch of people who only want to make a quick buck. They’re not the ones who’ll have to deal with people asking rude, uncomfortable questions. And if you start doing actual interviews, like the kind where your face is visible, you’re going to be recognized.”
“We live in New York City. Do you have any idea how many people live here?”
“Millions.”
“I seriously doubt I’m going to end up famous, Matt. Not, like, to the point where people are going to recognize me on the street. I’m more nervous about having to do interviews.”
“I’m sure if it’s what you decide to do, Maggie or Lois could coach you through the things you should talk about.”
“Lois?” I have to snort. “I’m sure she forgets she even has a client. But she doesn’t have any trouble taking a percentage of my royalties—that’s for sure.”
“Either way, somebody will help you. There’s too much on the line for them to let you go out there and say whatever comes into your head. The way you make it sound, they’re putting a lot of eggs in this basket.”
“Lucky me.”
“You’ll be fine. You always end up landing on your feet.” He smirks. “I guess the name Kitty suits you, come to think of it,” he teases.
“Oh, Chinese food and bad puns. I love it.”
“I love that you stood up to her. Or at least tried to,” he says, taking my hand in his.
“You sure you’re not just excited because I don’t have to date anyone else?”
“What I don’t like is that Maggie acts like they own you. And you allow it. No matter what you signed with them, they do not own you.” He strokes his chin with a thoughtful expression. “It’s a shame you don’t know a lawyer who could maybe help you look over your contract and figure out whether it’s possible to get out of it. Like a lawyer who happens to be your best friend and who works with tons of other lawyers.”
“And I’m thinking, my other best friend—”
“Are you referring to me?” he says, moving the tray of food over to my desk before diving back in bed with me. “Your boyfriend? Your lover? Your Santa Claus?”
“My boyfriend. That makes me feel like a teenager.”
His hand slides up under my shirt. “Is that good or bad?”
“I think we’re more than that, Matt. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. Have been for a long time.”
He smiles at me and kisses me deeply. “Pretty sure? Or sure?”
“Um, well, the other night you told me you were pretty sure. I’m reciprocating. But if you’d like to answer the question first, I’d be happy to reciprocate again.”
“That’s how it works in your romance novels, doesn’t it? The guy always tells the girl first.”
“Mostly, yes. Actually, always. At least so far. But maybe you’ll inspire me to change that.”
“I hope I inspire you to change a lot of things about your life in the near future, Valentine,” he says. “And to answer the question, I’m positive that I’m crazy in love with you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“I’m just supposed to fill out answers to the questions they sent over?” I scroll down, down, down the list.
“Piece of cake, right?” Lois sounds downright proud of herself. “See, this interview thing isn’t going to be such a big deal after all.”
She’s not wrong. My relief is very real as I sit and scan over the email I received this morning. They’re all pretty much softball questions—whose idea this was, how did I feel about it. Obviously, I can’t tell the full truth. I don’t think my publisher or my editor would like it very much if I shared exactly what happened the day Maggie informed me that I would need to change my entire approach.
Nobody wanted to hear about a girl getting drunk just so she could write a sex scene and then throwing up in her neighbor’s living room, stripping off all her clothes, and passing out in his bed. Not my proudest moment, not something I want to share with the world.
“Okay, I can do this. Let’s try to encourage written interviews.”
“I don’t know, doll. I talked to Maggie, and she made it sound like the higher-ups want you to show your face around. I’m already fielding phone calls from a bunch of different networks.”
I almost pass out at the word. “Networks? Like, actual channels with actual news shows?”
“What did you think this would mean?”
“I don’t know. Bloggers? Review sites? That’s what Maggie alluded to.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. This is much bigger than that.”
Yeah, no kidding. People keep telling me that.