The sorrow in her face nearly undid him. Trent told himself he was doing what was best—for the company, for himself, and for Kate. They were still two different people, and they were still on two different trajectories.
“So, I’ll call you in a few weeks, okay?”
Kate got to her feet, her spine straight and her demeanor cold and distant. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. At some point, Trent, you have to stop hovering on the shore and just dive in. Until you do that, I think our business is concluded, don’t you?” Then she crossed the room, opened the door, and waited for him to leave.
Trent stepped out into an angry squall and climbed in his car. He sat there for a long time while a storm raged around him and he wondered why making the right decision made him feel so terrible.
Fifteen
The next morning, Kate packed up Charlie, her laptop, and some clothes and headed to Grandma Wanda’s. Losing everything had spurred her to finally take some action in another direction. Grandma took one look at Kate’s face, drew her into a tight, warm hug, and whispered the magic words, “I made cookies. Let’s go eat as many as possible.”
As the snow fell outside and the world dealt with slushy streets and chilly days, Kate ignored the internet and her social media. Let her calls go to voicemail. Instead, she plugged in her laptop, opened up the file for her novel and started to write. She had nothing else to risk by doing this—her ghostwriting career was toast for the time being—so it gave her a courage she had never had before to write and submit. Angie had read the first few chapters and sent back one word: AMAZING! Then a second email that had said FINISH IT!
The encouragement lit a fire under Kate, and she immersed herself in words and story, the characters and their world becoming as real as her own. The love of writing that she’d had when she’d been younger returned, as if some switch had been flipped in her brain, and all the “writer’s block” she’d had for years disappeared. She wrote all day and long into the night, taking advantage of the quiet and peace at her grandmother’s house.
On the third afternoon, Penny texted and asked Kate if she wanted to talk shop and grab a glass of wine. Kate met her at a cozy bar downtown, and over the course of the next couple of hours, the two of them exchanged pages and opinions.
“So,” Penny said, setting Kate’s printed pages to the side. “Now that we’re done, let’s talk about the elephant on the internet that we haven’t mentioned. I heard what Loretta did. That was wrong, in case I haven’t said so.”
“Actually, it’s okay.” Kate ran a finger along the rim of her wine glass. Two raspberries sat at the base of the delicate flute of sparkling Moscato. “I may never ghostwrite again, but it did force me to start working on my novel. And that may never have happened if not for Loretta.”
“Well, that is a good way to look at it, because the novel is terrific,” Penny said. “I can’t wait to see how it ends. I’m really hooked on those sisters and their mom. It’s such a…warm story. Feels like they’re my own family, you know?”
Kate beamed. “I’m so glad to hear that. And I really loved your suspense novel. That chapter had me on the edge of my seat.”
“We make good critique partners.” Penny clinked glasses with Kate. “I hope I get to talk words with you a lot more often, Kate.”
“Me too.” She gathered up her pages and laid down some cash for the tab. “It was good to get out—not just out of the house, but out of my comfort zone. I think that’s all I’ve done for the last two months—things that scare me.”
“And I’m sure it’s made you a better writer.” Penny finished her last sip of chardonnay. “Speaking of things that affect your writing…have you heard from Trent?”
Kate filled Penny in on everything that had happened in the days since Loretta’s expose blog. Considering the whole thing had become a public conversation, she didn’t see the sense in not talking about it. “I told him I don’t want to see him again. I mean, I do, but not if he wants to stand on the sidelines of our relationship.”
Penny covered her mouth and bit back a giggle. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but from everything you’ve told me about him, it seems like you were the one who did that before. Now you’re the risk-taker and he’s the scared one?”
It did seem like the tables had turned. Maybe once she’d started doing the things Trent liked to do, he had lost his argument about why a relationship between them would never work. Maybe Penny was right and this had nothing to do with the blog post and more to do with Trent being scared of what that meant for the future.
“It doesn’t matter.” Kate got to her feet and grabbed her purse. “We’re over.”
Penny put a hand on hers. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. You still have a few chapters to write in your own story, and the ending is still up in the air. Could it be the same with Trent?”
Kate tucked her pages into her bag. “Sometimes, Penny, you have to know when to stop trying to make the story work.”
Greg pounded out the miles beside Trent, the two of them not talking as Trent struggled to keep up with Greg’s long legs. Trent was happy with the silence, if only because it gave him time to puzzle out the Kate situation and relieve the stress of the last week. The calls to GOA’s offices had been nonstop. The backlash on social media had been swift and strong, a critical whip for the first few days. Then attention began to die down, and Sarah’s efforts to promote more positive aspects of GOA’s environmental and charitable efforts began to change the tide.
There’d be more to do once the book came out, but he’d worry about that then. For now, there was the nagging question of whether he had been wrong to mistrust Kate. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to hear from him, and thus far, she hadn’t responded to any of his emails or texts. She’d done the minor revisions he’d requested, but had sent them back through her agent, putting as much distance between them as she could.
Trent told himself it was all for the better, and kept on running. Maybe one of these days the run would quiet all the thoughts in his brain.
As they rounded the bend that marked the halfway point of their run, Greg slowed his pace. “This is our fifth run in as many days. Are you training for a race or avoiding something?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Greg arched a brow in answer.
Trent stopped running and bent over, drawing in deep breaths. “I can’t keep up with you, man. You’re killing me.”
“I don’t mind walking for a bit.” Greg waited for Trent to straighten, then the two of them headed down the path. “I wanted to thank you for the drum set you got Dana for her birthday. Or rather, not thank you.” He pressed his hands to his ears. “Next thing we’re getting her is lessons.”