“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed. “It’s only words.”
“If you ask me, it’s a lot more than that. All that creating and thinking and writing. It’s like your hands were on fire. Just amazing. So…can I read it?”
“Of course you can. It’s your story. I need you to look it over for any inconsistencies or mistakes.” She clicked on the screen, and the printer beside her computer whirred to life. “I’ll print out a copy for you. I think it’s easier to see what’s missing when you’re looking at the printed page.”
“And you go eat.” He nudged the untouched plate of food toward her. “I can’t have my ghostwriter starving to death before the book is published.”
Something flickered in her eyes, but she pushed a smile to her face, then grabbed her plate. “You’re right. Thanks.”
The printer spat out the pages, and Trent grabbed the stack. He dropped into Kate’s desk chair and started to read. From the first sentence, he was hooked, and barely heard Kate heating up her food before sitting on the sofa to finally eat.
Maybe I was born an adventurer, or maybe living under the shade of the Cascade Mountains ignited that flame in my heart. I grew up an ordinary kid in an ordinary small town, with ordinary parents who own a small nursery. My mother was hearth and home, apple cobbler and warm hugs at the end of the day. My father was the one who had the love for the outdoors and a passion for anything green and vibrant. His bedtime stories were about climbing mountains and sleeping under the stars. So it was little wonder that I decided to do my first solo hike when I was ten, with a water bottle and a granola bar, and not a whole lot of preplanning.
It was as if he was listening to a tape of himself speaking as he read. The way she described the deep chasms that sliced into the side of the mountain as if the gods had cleaved the world in two. The rich, deep greens of the forest floor and the steady, imposing strength of the towering trees. The way the air he breathed on a climb filled not just his lungs, but his soul. It was poetic and beautiful and compelling.
Trent turned page after page, so attuned to Kate’s words that he barely heard the soft murmur of the television or noticed her cat weaving in and out of the chair legs, seeking attention. He devoured his own story, like watching a movie unfold. He knew the plot, the details, the ending, but the way the story was told kept him glued to the seat.
Finally, a little after two in the morning, he finished the last page and set the manuscript in a neat pile on the corner of her desk. It was his life, captured in beautiful prose and true in every sense of the word except for the gaping hole where Kate should have been. She’d talked about how he had decided in the beginning of senior year to buckle down and apply himself in school, instead of telling the true story about how she had nudged him to be his best self. When the story about writing the book came up, she made it sound like comparing his life story to the mountains he loved to climb was all his idea.
He glanced over at the couch. The TV was playing, lights flickering across Kate’s peaceful, still face. She’d curled up on the arm of her sofa, her dinner only half eaten, and fallen asleep. She looked so beautiful, so tranquil, and a part of him wanted to curl up on the couch beside her.
He crossed to the coffee table, but as he reached for her plate, Kate stirred and woke up. “What time is it?” Her voice was sleepy and soft.
“A little after two in the morning.”
She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up. “Oh, wow. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“You’ve been working really hard lately. You were typing like a madwoman over there for hours.”
“It’s always like that at the end of a book. Sort of like rappelling down a mountain, only without the dangerous part.” Kate drew her knees to her chest and hugged them. Her feet were bare, bright-red toenails peeking out from beneath the wide-leg yoga pants. “Did you read the book?”
“No.” Her face fell. He dropped onto the sofa beside her and put a hand on her arm. “I devoured it, Kate. It was…amazing. Maybe the best book I’ve ever read, and not because it’s my life story. Starting a company isn’t always the most exciting thing, but you…you made it compelling and emotional and a hundred other things I don’t have the words for. You are an incredible, amazing, talented writer, Kate. I’d call you more adjectives, but I’d need a thesaurus.”
That adorable blush filled her cheeks. “Thanks. That is, after all, what you were paying me to do.”
“Speaking of which…” He reached into his pocket for the slim piece of paper he’d held onto for hours. “When I ran out for dinner, I stopped by the office and had my CFO cut the check for the second half of the advance. He’s mailing your agent her cut, but this is for you.”
She took the check, then stared at him. “Why are you giving me this? Normally, the client just sends the check to Angie and then she pays me.”
“I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“To hand me thousands of dollars?” Kate chuckled. “I’m not going to complain about that, but really, Angie sends me my part of the fee right away.”
“I couldn’t wait to fire you, essentially.” He shifted over to the coffee table, close enough that their knees could almost touch. “Because if you’re no longer working for me, we can go on a proper date.”
Kate’s mouth opened. Closed. She blinked. “Maybe I’m still a bit sleepy and not with it, but did you just…ask me out?”
“I do believe I did. And I don’t mean a dinner in a diner. You deserve more than that, Kate. Something special. So let’s get dressed up and go out for dinner tomorrow—” he glanced at the clock, “—technically, tonight for dinner. After you get some sleep and I stop by the office for a little while. I’ll pick you up at seven, and we’ll go somewhere fancy and delicious.”
A smile blossomed on her face, as bright as sunshine after a storm. “That sounds wonderful, Trent.”
“Then it’s a date, and I mean that. It’s a date.” All those hours he’d spent watching her work, then reading the amazing story she’d put together, had quadrupled his respect for her and reminded him of how empty his life had been without Kate. The story he’d read didn’t make sense without her, and it had taken all those pages before he’d understood that fact. He got to his feet and grabbed his car keys off the table. “I’ll let you get some sleep, Kate. Before I go, I just want to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For creating something amazing with your words. You are a truly gifted writer. And I can’t wait to see what happens next.” He wanted to kiss her, wanted that more than anything, but no. It would wait. Kate deserved a special night, a moment as beautiful as she was, and Trent intended to deliver.