In Other Words, Love

by Shirley Jump

  “Grandma, that was more than fifteen years ago. His feelings have surely changed.”

  “Maybe so. Or maybe he just needed a little more time to mature. Like my Stanley here.” She tapped the plant’s plastic pot.

  “Stanley?” Kate laughed at the name for the delicate purple bloom. “Well, no matter what you think, I know I have a better shot at getting Stanley there to fall in love with me than Trent.” The thought saddened her, but she refused to let that show. Grandma would only worry, and if there was nothing between Kate and Trent, what was there to worry about?

  “Patience, care and attention. Good things grow from that recipe.” Grandma took Kate’s hand and got to her feet. “Now, let’s go have some soup.”

  “And cookies?”

  “Of course. What kind of grandma would I be if I didn’t bake you cookies?” She pressed a kiss to Kate’s cheek, the soft scent of her fragrance and decades of memories filling the space between them.

  They ate lunch and just as Kate was starting the dishes, her phone dinged. She ignored the first text. The second. When it dinged a third time, she pulled it out of her pocket. We need to chat ASAP. Before we meet today, I thought I should tell you I saw Trent’s Instagram blowing up, Angie had written. Finally, All kinds of buzz. People wondering who he’s dating. It’s not you, right?

  The last few words hit Kate like a sucker punch. Was Trent dating someone? And why did she care? This was supposed to be a solely professional relationship.

  Then Angie followed her text with a screenshot of Trent’s Instagram account. It took Kate a second to look past the breathtaking scenery, the elegance of the bridge…

  To her own ankle, sock, and boot in the corner of the picture. She pulled up Instagram, went to his account and read through the comments. Angie was right—speculation was running like a freight train. Surely Trent must know about this. Why had he left the photo up?

  We should chat today, Kate texted Trent, four innocuous words that didn’t begin to express her nervousness over being exposed as the author. That couldn’t happen, right? Not from just a snippet of a picture, and a shoe at that. She started to put the phone back when she saw the little bubble of his reply, as if he’d been waiting for her to text.

  I agree. Meet for coffee?

  Sure. She named a coffee shop near his office and on her way to Angie’s. In about thirty minutes?

  Perfect. See you there, KitKat.

  Every time he used her nickname, it made her heart trip. For that split second, they were dating again, and her world was as perfect as it could get. Then reality came rushing back and reminded her that all she was to Trent was his ghostwriter. Nothing more.

  Kate kissed her grandma’s cheek and promised to come back the next day and help her repot the rest of the primroses. She brushed off Grandma’s questions and said everything was fine. It could be, right? This picture could be nothing. Then Kate gathered her things, hailed a cab and headed across town.

  She was early for their meeting, which gave her time to grab a cup of tea and a warm cookie, then set up at a table by the window of the coffee shop. A light rain had started up, and droplets ran down the front windows in hundreds of lazy rivers.

  While she was waiting, Kate opened her laptop and managed to whip out a short post on her Secret Life of a Ghost blog.

  My newest project—and sorry, can’t give you any deets—is with someone who is really hard to resist. Nice smile, witty remarks, and so very sweet to me. Every time we get together to work on the book, I feel like I’m on the edge of a mountain, staring down a waterfall and debating whether to jump into the dark pool below. Crazy, I know. Can you guys relate? Ever get really close to a person you were ghostwriting for?

  She hit Post, then answered a few comments from the last post, and opened up the file for Trent’s book. She needed so much more content, especially about his childhood. Maybe they should go see his parents, if Trent’s family still lived a couple of hours away. A quick trip, gather some research. Might be worth a shot to ask him, although given his earlier reticence about his past, Kate wasn’t so sure he’d agree.

  She tried to write, but not a single word came to mind. Her attention strayed to the parking lot, her breath caught in her throat.

  Until she saw him.

  Trent had walked here, hunched into one of his GOA raincoats with the same boots he’d worn on the hike. He looked ready to whisk her away on an adventure, somewhere far from the busy city and the crowded coffee shop. He stepped inside, shook off the worst of the rain, glancing around the room as he did. His gaze came to rest on Kate, and her heart stuttered.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” An odd shyness came over her. They’d spent an entire morning together a couple of days ago, and had talked via email and text every day since. She’d known him for years, and yet she felt her cheeks heat and her pulse race. The picture, and the rumors swirling on the internet, had changed everything. It was as if she felt responsible for her own foot ending up in a photo. Which was insane, of course.

  Trent slipped into the seat across from her. Almost every table in the coffee shop was full, and a low current of conversation ran beneath the soft jazz on the sound system. Local artists had hung paintings on the clapboard walls, watercolors and oils of scenic areas around the state. Even Moulton Falls was immortalized in a painting on the far wall, a taunting reminder of their hike.

  Trent cleared his throat. “I take it you heard about the photo?”

  He’d seen it too. A part of her had been hoping maybe he hadn’t. That Sarah had deleted the image and the rumor mill had died down in the last fifteen minutes. “Trent, I had no idea I was in that picture, or that people—”

  He put up a hand. “Hey, it’s not your fault, not even a little, so don’t beat yourself up. It was an accident.”

  “I feel bad, though,” she said, then lowered her voice when she noticed how close the other customers were. The last thing either of them needed was more gossip or someone putting even more pieces together. “You have all these people questioning you now, and so much on your plate with the IPO and the book and—”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a big boy, and I can handle a little gossip.” His hand rested beside hers on the wooden table. Not touching, but so close. “No one is going to figure out it was you.”

  “Which is great. Right?” Then why did she feel so disappointed? Did she really want to shoehorn herself into Trent’s life? Or had a part of her expected Trent to make a public announcement, proclaiming her Girlfriend of the Year? Yet another fictional idea that was never going to be truth.

  “I think so,” Trent said. “Sarah says all PR is good PR, and if people are talking about the photo, it might bump up sales of the book.”

  “Because people will think the book will have the story exposing the truth about the woman behind the boot?” Kate laughed and sipped at her tea. “Do they think you’re going to spill some kind of state secret?”

  Trent broke off a piece of her cookie and popped it in his mouth. Just like old times, sharing a meal without a word. “They’re going to be mighty disappointed if so.”

  Kate stared down into her teacup, swirling the remaining brew in a slow circle. She was not disappointed that he had just said he wasn’t going to publicly claim her as his. Nope, not disappointed at all. “Speaking of state secrets, how about we take a drive up to see your parents tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow’s Wednesday, right?”

  She grinned. “All day.”

  A smile flickered on his face, and once again, another thread from the past tightened between them. “You’re still using that joke?”

  “Hey, if a bad joke works, I hold onto it as long as possible.” She shut the lid of her laptop and pushed it aside, then crossed her hands on the table and leaned toward him. “We have two and a half weeks, Trent. I only have about half of the
book done. I need a lot more material to fill it out, plus the time to write the words. So yes, tomorrow, if possible. I tried asking you questions on the hike and in person, and you were…well, vague and not very helpful. Your past is part of your present. Your parents and sister might have some pictures and memories—”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I haven’t seen my family in a long time.”

  “All the more reason for a visit.” She brushed the edge of her hand against his, a featherlight touch, but it sent off sparks inside her. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last few years, it’s that not every life is long. Visit and enjoy the people who love you as often as possible.”

  “You’re right.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “But tomorrow? That’s a work day.”

  Who was this guy who put work ahead of everything else? In college, Trent had been about the adventures, and everything else—including Kate—came second. “Maybe you should take a day off, Trent. Play some hooky. You did, after all, work on Saturday and technically all Sunday morning.”

  He stole another bite of cookie. “Isn’t driving up to Hudson Falls to see my parents another kind of working?”

  “Not if your mom makes her apple cobbler.” Kate shot him a grin. “Then it’s just dessert.”

  He sat back in the chair. “Okay. You sold me with the apple cobbler. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at eleven if that works? We’ll grab some lunch on the way and have dessert with my parents.”

  The whole thing could have been a date, under different circumstances. Trent bringing her home to meet his parents, stopping for a romantic lunch at some roadside café…

  She shook off the illusion. “Sounds perfect. If you’re driving, I can take notes and—”

  He scoffed. “Do you ever take a break, Kate?”

  “Pot, meet kettle.” She grinned. “Besides, I can’t, not when I’m on deadline and working with a difficult subject.”

  “Me? Difficult? You must have me confused with a certain race car driver. I’m easy, flexible. Some even say nice.” He got to his feet. A smile toyed with the edges of his mouth. She liked Trent’s smile. Liked it a lot. “See you tomorrow, KitKat.”

  She nodded and watched him leave the way he’d come, ducking into the hood of his jacket as he set out in the rain. I’m looking forward to it. More than I should.

  A few minutes later, Kate was sitting in Angie’s office. The rain had stopped, and the sun was pushing its way through the gray clouds. She’d taken the time to walk to Angie’s office, enjoying a second cup of tea on the way. A little trill of excitement ran through her at the thought of spending the entire day with Trent tomorrow. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t enjoy her company and maybe, just maybe, Grandma was right about Trent and he just needed a little more patience, care, and attention to shift that interest in action.

  Or maybe she really should switch to writing fiction. Getting involved with the man who’d broken her heart was not a smart decision. Only a fool went back for the same heartbreak a second time.

  “So, how’s the book going?” Angie said as soon as Kate stepped inside the room. Today, Angie’s hair was a bright emerald green, the perfect complement to her black oversized T-shirt and leggings.

  Kate settled into a chair opposite her agent and set her bag on the floor. “Great!”

  “Wow. That’s an enthusiastic response.” Angie’s chair squeaked as she tipped it back and rested her boots on the edge of her desk. “I thought you were having trouble with the whole past-relationship part.”

  Kate shrugged as if that wasn’t an issue, and she hadn’t thought about it, oh, a thousand times in the last couple of weeks. “Not really.”

  “And this whole Instagram rumor mill about the picture? Trent wasn’t mad about that? Or worried your identity would be exposed?”

  “It’s just a boot, Angie. I’m sure no one will figure it out.” Kate pulled out her notebook and a pen, in case Angie had any last-minute changes from the publisher. “I’m not going to say that us having a past together isn’t a factor at all, but…we’ve spent a lot of time together, and he’s opening up more every day, and he trusts me. That’s why he’s not worried about the photo. I’m about halfway done, and tomorrow we are going up to spend the day with his family.”

  “Sounds…almost romantic.”

  “Oh, it’s not. Not really.” Kate fiddled with the pen. It was far easier to do that than face the fact that the whole day was only a romance in Kate’s mind. Hadn’t Trent made it clear a dozen times that this was all business? “You said in your text that you also had the cover mockups?”

  Angie nodded. “You’re going to love them.” She pulled up the files on her tablet, then turned the machine to face Kate. Trent’s face dominated the cover. A ridge of mountains lay in the background, and a pair of hiking boots anchored the bottom corner. Beneath the words Be True to Your Nature, the words by Trent MacMillan stared back at Kate. “This publisher does a lot of memoirs. They said if you did a good job on this—and I have no doubt you will, because everything you write is fantastic—there are several others in the pipeline.”

  “More ghostwriting?” She’d written a dozen books for other people before, and this time, not having her name on the cover bothered her more than ever. Maybe because this whole thing with Trent had felt more like a partnership than a job. Or maybe she was reading things between them that weren’t there.

  “That’s what you do.” Angie grinned. “And you’re amazing at it.”

  Kate traced Trent’s name on the screen. When she’d been in college, she’d written his name in her notebook one time, over and over again, like a lovesick teenager. Now, his name, and only his name, would be on something they had created together. All the memories of Chick and Cheese and the bowling and the hike, under his name, not hers. “But what about…my own book someday?”

  “Did you finish that novel you’ve been talking about for years?” Interest perked in Angie’s eyes.

  “No, but I was thinking about it. I met a writer the other night who wants to get together to trade pages and talk plot.” Kate sat back in her chair and clutched the notebook tight. Talking about her own work seemed so risky, even with Angie. What if she failed? Then again, what if she pushed past all those roadblocks like the primroses the nursery had given up on, and became an author in her own right? “I was thinking maybe…maybe it’s time I finished it.”

  “Hallelujah. It’s past time you did that, Kate.” Angie set the tablet to the side. “Everything you write is fantastic. As soon as you finish that novel, I’ll be proud to represent it.”

  Kate had braced herself for some reluctance, and Angie’s supportive reply surprised her. “Really?”

  “Of course. Now shoo.” Angie waved at her. “Get out of here and go finish those books, before you’re snapped up on some other memoir project. I can’t wait to read that novel.”

  “Will do.” Kate headed out of Angie’s office. As she caught an Uber back to her apartment with the sun shining overhead, her mood was as light as a melody. Angie was right. Penny was right. It was time....

  Time for Kate to start taking her own risks.

  Ten

  The Corvette idea backfired. When Trent pulled the sleek red machine out of the garage, a part of him hoped Kate would be wowed by the price tag of the car and the clear message that he was successful. It was like he was fifteen again and trying to impress his crush. He pulled up to the curb by her apartment, jumped out and opened the passenger’s side door.

  “Cool car,” she said as she hopped inside. By the time he came around to the driver’s side and slipped behind the wheel, Kate already had her notebook and pen out and ready. “So, I had a list of questions—”

  That was it? Cool car? “You know this is a limited edition, right?”

  “What is?”

  “The car.” Oka
y, now he was clearly fishing for compliments. What was wrong with him? But his mouth kept running on, like a babbling brook of nerves. “It’s a 2009 GTI Championship Edition. Only six hundred were made, a hundred in each color.”

  “Cool.” She flipped pages in her notebook and scribbled something in the margins. “Your parents still own the nursery, right?”

  “You’re not impressed by the car?”

  Kate glanced up. “It’s a cool car, way cooler than my Honda, which is also a 2009, but definitely not a championship edition.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess cars never really impress me. I care about who’s driving the car more than about what’s under the hood.”

  That made him pause and realize that it was silly to think a car was the answer to making Kate swoon at his feet. Besides, why did he want to make her swoon anyway? There was no swooning in a business deal, and that was all this was.

  The social media firestorm was still simmering, and although Trent was tempted to take the picture down, Sarah had cautioned against it. She said removing the photo would create more questions and speculation than leaving it there. He checked the comments every once in a while to see if anyone had put it together, but so far, all he saw was rumors about him sneaking away with a famous actress or celebrity. Laughable thought, given Trent’s ridiculously busy schedule.

  Except, here he was, taking a day off to visit his parents with Kate, something he couldn’t find time for before. Before Kate had come back into his life.

  “What you said about the car is a good answer.” And, if he was honest with himself, the exact answer he’d wanted to hear. Sure, he’d love it if Kate fainted at the sight of his expensive car, but he’d known far too many women—and men—who’d never seen past the Corvette’s pedigree. Keeping things professional meant the car was a means to get to their meeting, nothing more.

  “But…if you can open her up when we get to the highway, I’d love to see how fast this thing goes.” Kate grinned and slipped her seatbelt into the lock.