by Julie Wright
Anders scooped up some of the spinach artichoke dip with his pita chip, took a bite, and closed his eyes while he chewed. “And this . . . is one of the things I love best about you. You’re an artist in the kitchen as well as on the page.”
That man really knew how to make me feel good.
“I might have to enlist your help when my sister comes into town,” he said. “You can help me figure out how to feed her. I swear, Magdalena’s the pickiest eater I know. It’s a serious character flaw. No one likes to feed picky eaters.”
“I did hear a rumor once that picky eaters would be the first to die in the apocalypse.”
“Serves ’em right.”
I wiped my hands on one of the napkins I’d brought for us and took a long drink from my water bottle. “Why is she coming into town? Is it that cold already in Canada?”
Anders laughed. “It can never get too cold for a Swede. It’ll be a while before she comes. She wants to discuss Farfar’s declining health. We’re trying to figure out how to best take care of him.”
That was a sobering thought. Anders must have thought so too, because his laugh came to an abrupt stop and he frowned. His hero and best friend experiencing declining health had to create a huge hole in Anders’s heart. All his family was in the United States or, in Magdalena’s case, Canada, so no one remained in Sweden to be a guardian or caregiver.
“I’ll absolutely help you feed your sister.”
“I can always count on you.”
I hated that he was saying such things when Toni was, at the same time, complaining about his presence in my life—when she wanted me to hide him away like he was something for me to be ashamed of. But I hadn’t backed down. I hadn’t agreed to get rid of him or even to hide him. Most of the time, he could count on me. Those times had to count for me as well, didn’t they?
The youth symphony began. We settled in to enjoy the music.
By the time the symphony had finished and the food had all vanished into our stomachs, Anders and I reclined on the blanket to stare up into the tree branches. A leaf had twirled down and landed on Anders’s chest. I picked it up and rested my head there instead, while twirling the leaf in my fingers.
I’d actually thought Anders had gone to sleep when he asked a question. “What’s your favorite sound?”
“Sound?”
“Yeah. Sound.”
I stared at my leaf as it spun slowly between my index finger and my thumb. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it before. But I guess . . . my favorite sound would have to be ocean waves. Not the crash as they come in exactly, though that’s part of it, but the sound of the waves pulling out again, that foamy, slurry rush of the water pulling at the sand.”
He smiled at me. “Only a real writer could come up with that kind of description that fast.”
I turned my head and rested my chin on his chest so he could see me roll my eyes at him, but I felt all the pleasure of his compliment. He meant it. Anders really believed in me in a way no one else did. From the beginning, he had always been on my side. “What about you? What’s your favorite sound?”
His smile softened into something nostalgic. “I love the hum of tires on the highway during a road trip, where there’s that occasional Doppler swish as other cars pass.”
“Hmm. Doppler swish. I like that. I don’t think that’s a sound I’ve ever thought about before.”
He shrugged. “That sound, along with the sway of the car lulling you to sleep, means that when you wake up, you’ll be somewhere else. It’s the sound of progress, movement, adventure, something new.”
I settled my head on his shoulder. “Now who’s the writer?”
His phone pinged. He pulled it out to look and started to laugh hard enough that I had to move my head again or suffer a concussion. “Google maps just asked me if the place we’re eating at is romantic or if it is all-you-can-eat.” He tapped his phone a few times, then started laughing harder. “And now Google has thanked me for my answers because they will help others who have searched for all-you-can-eat romantic restaurants. I know I’m a pretty basic guy, Lettie, but is there any such thing as all-you-can-eat romantic restaurants?”
I smiled and kissed his ear because I couldn’t quite reach his lips from our position. “Eating from a garbage can is romantic when you really love the other person.”
His chest vibrated with another laugh until he fell still and silent again.
I stared up into the tree branches and thought about how much I loved the moment surrounding me.
Our relationship was going pretty well. We were taking things slow—like I’d requested from him, but he didn’t seem to mind that. He seemed to appreciate the friendship, the solidarity, the genuineness of who we were when we were together with no other strings attached.
I appreciated all the same things. I loved having him as my best friend and constant companion. I loved telling my sister about our relationship and hoped she would find something like that for herself someday. Something true.
True. Genuine. Real.
So why could I hear Toni’s voice mail ringing in my ears? Why did I hear her voice telling me that I could keep my relationships, but I couldn’t give them advertising space in the online world? I could see her texts telling me not to tarnish my brand.
“Anders?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you climb trees when you were little?”
“All the time.” His voice slurred with the sleep he hadn’t been able to get the night before because of work.
“Did you ever climb too high? So high that the branches got smaller and smaller until finally there wasn’t anything to hang onto except a few random leaves, and the branches under your feet bowed under your weight? Have you ever felt like you were hanging on by a leaf?”
He peeked open an eye and strained his neck to be able to view me better. “Are we still talking about climbing trees?”
I shook my head. “No. Yes. Never mind.”
“Lettie? What’s up?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing. Just looking at the trees and thinking too much.”
He murmured something noncommittal like he was fading from consciousness again, which meant he’d believed me when I said nothing was wrong.
But he couldn’t really believe me. Hadn’t he been the one to raise his eyebrows at my ever-shifting wardrobe, where a single T-shirt that looked casual and fun now cost more than my whole previous wardrobe, or, under Toni’s instructions, at the way I now did my hair? Another leaf fell silently until it hit the ground, making a crunching sound—little leaf bones breaking on impact.
“You’re climbing too high, Lettie,” I murmured to myself. But there was no way to go back down, not when I only had to reach up a smidge higher to finally attain the prize. I only had to hang on for a bit longer.
The book launch was soon. I could go back to being the me Anders wouldn’t raise his eyebrows at.
Chapter Fourteen
“Beauty and the Beast proves that being able to meet the deadline imposed by an old crone and a dying magic rose can really make a difference in your love life.”
—Charlotte Kingsley, The Cinderella Fiction
(The “Pace Yourself” Chapter)
I awoke the next morning to a knock on my door. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, unsure if I’d actually heard the knock or if it had been part of the already fading dream where it seemed someone was on the rooftop of my apartment building throwing pinecones down at the guy on the street he’d accused of dancing like a pony. I’m pretty sure he meant it as an insult. Or maybe he didn’t. I couldn’t decide because the knock at my apartment door came again.
Why would someone be at the door? What day was it? And then it hit me: October first, the day of the book launch.
I sat up straight and gasped with the fear that I’d
slept through my book launch. But my phone informed me that it wasn’t even nine in the morning yet. I smirked to myself at that. Not even nine in the morning, and I feel like it’s okay to be in bed? The days of Frankly Eyewear and being in the 7 a.m. commute really were over. I remembered someone was at the door when they knocked a third time, prompting me to get out of bed, slip on a robe, and answer.
Anders stood in my doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he had on his scowl face. “You locked your door.”
“You’re always telling me to lock it.”
“Yes, but you moved your key.”
“That’s because I’m pretty sure Shannon knows where it is.”
“Well, you’d better let me know where you hid it this time, because not knowing ruined the surprise I found lurking by the front gate.” He stepped to the side.
Lillian Christie poked her head from around the corner. “Is that my cue?”
“Lillian!” I pulled her into a big hug and felt a huge relief to see her there. “What are you doing here?”
“Moral support. Happy book birthday, Lettie!” She squeezed me tighter.
“Don’t you mean Char?” Anders asked. If sarcasm could be given a name, it would have been called Anders. He hated that my online persona went by Char. He hated even more that some of my fan followers had made a flame for me as a logo.
Toni loved the logo and loved even more that people totally unconnected to me had made it because it meant that I had reached “the people,” and they had declared me theirs.
“Don’t you go sassing on the woman of the hour,” Lillian said to Anders before she released me. “How are you feeling? Are you ready?”
“I thought I was, but honestly, I don’t know.” Out of all the people in the world, Lillian would know how to get me through this day. Terror threatened to consume me at the thought of getting up in front of all those people.
“You’re going to be great, baby girl. You’re going to show the world who you really are. But first, I’ve come to take you to breakfast.”
“I’d love to go to breakfast with you!” I looked down at my pajamas and laughed. “Maybe I should get dressed first. I’ll be right back.”
I hurried to my room and shut the door. The noise from outside my room proved they weren’t having trouble making conversation. “So are you and Lettie dating? We talk all the time, and she hasn’t mentioned you,” Lillian said.
It hadn’t occurred to me that they’d go into that type of conversation. I hadn’t told Lillian about my relationship with Anders. I hadn’t really told anyone because Toni had wanted to keep him under wraps.
Staggering to get dressed faster with the intent of getting back out there and limiting their chance for an in-depth discussion, I ended up tripping on my pant leg and falling face first onto the floor.
“Oomph! Ow!” I cried out.
“You okay in there?” Anders asked after tapping on my door.
“Great. Fine!” I called back.
Half-dressed, I stood just inside my bedroom door and found myself too paralyzed to move. I was not so stupid that I hadn’t felt the beat of silence from Anders after Lillian had asked if we were dating. It meant he was internally translating what she’d told him.
Why had I kept him a secret from Lillian? She was my friend and certainly wouldn’t have gone off tattling on me to Toni.
I could almost feel Anders taking a glance at my bedroom door and then reassessing our entire relationship. I closed my eyes and held my breath.
“I’m just a neighbor from downstairs.” He didn’t go into our relationship or why he knew where my key used to be hidden. Lillian made a comment about me being so lucky to have such a nice view.
He must have been confused because it took him a moment to say, “View? All of her windows look out on alleys lined with dumpsters.”
I opened my eyes as if I could somehow see the two of them through the door.
Lillian let out a booming laugh. “No, honey,” she said. “I was talking about the neighborly view. You’re a handsome man. Handsome neighbors are hard to come by. Nice, handsome neighbors are even more rare.”
That made me smile. If I knew Anders at all, he was blushing right to his blond hairline. He turned it around the only way Anders knew how and that was to make the conversation about her. “Well, Lettie’s pretty lucky in a lot of ways. I mean here you are. And she’s one of your biggest fans. It must be a pretty big deal for her to have you here.”
He must have been showing her my collection of her books because she gushed over how amazing it was to see her books so well-loved and how she couldn’t be better complimented, since she was such a fan of my work as well.
“Really?” Anders asked. “You’ve read Lettie’s book already?”
“We have the same agent. Jen gave me an ARC to read.”
Anders hadn’t been given an ARC to read even though I had one. It hadn’t occurred to me to let him get a preview.
But wasn’t he always promoting me?
His promotion of me reminded me that Lillian was there to see me and hiding behind my bedroom door wasn’t exactly me being a good hostess or a rational adult. I hurriedly finished getting dressed and then opened my bedroom door. I found Anders and Lillian in the kitchen, where Anders had offered her a glass of water.
“Your neighbor was showing me around.”
“He’s more than just my neighbor. He’s my boyfriend.” I smiled and linked my arm through his. He deserved to be acknowledged.
A breath exhaled from him. Had he been holding it while wondering if I would introduce him properly?
“And here he’s telling me he’s just a neighbor.” Lillian laughed a booming and delighted laugh. “Why are you keeping your relationship a secret?” she asked him.
His smile tightened. “That’s an excellent question.”
She didn’t notice the snick of a bite in his response. “I cannot believe you have all my books!” she said. “I’d accuse you of going out and buying them all just to make me feel good about myself except you didn’t know I was coming. So really, I’m very complimented. I don’t even think my mother has all my books!” She laughed. I laughed. Anders laughed.
My personal and writing worlds colliding made the idea of being an author real. I’d always been able to say I was a writer for my profession when people asked what I did for a living, but it occurred to me that I could now, as of today, say I was an author. While Lillian signed all of my books that were her titles, I texted Kat to tell her who was over. Kat’s reply was nothing but exclamation points and question marks. “Will she sign my books?” was Kat’s next reply.
“Bring them to the launch, and I’m sure she will.”
“I’m packing them now! Oh. And, so you know, your mom is saying she might not be able to go tonight.”
The disappointment smoldered in my throat and threatened to choke me until I swallowed it back down and texted, “But you’re coming, right?”
“Anders said he’d pick me up.”
I glanced his direction and felt love swell up and take the place of disappointment. Anders. He caught my look and his expression turned into a question. His head tilted and he squinted as if trying to see me better, probably wondering why I was looking at him like a crazy person. Could he see the shine of tears in my eyes for the gratitude I felt for him?
“What?” he mouthed.
“Thank you,” I mouthed back.
He raised his hands in questions and mouthed, “For what?”
I simply shrugged. I’d thank him out loud and with real words later.
“So let me tell you why I’m here,” Lillian said, interrupting the silent moment between Anders and me. “This is your book birthday. It’s your first one. You’ll probably have dozens more after this, but this is the one that sparks that chain of events, and as such, I t
hink it needs to be a book birthday worth remembering. I’ve got a day planned!” She took a drink of the water Anders had fetched for her and slid her gaze toward him. “Unless you have plans and I’m intruding?”
Anders waved her off. “We didn’t have plans, so don’t worry about me. Besides, she sees me every day, and she’ll see me tonight at the launch.”
“Why don’t you come with us to breakfast at least?” Lillian’s offer was generous, since I didn’t want to part with Anders yet. I had planned on being with him for some part of this day. I had planned on the celebration being something we shared.
He agreed. Lillian took us to a new little crepe cafe and then revealed the rest of the day’s plans by handing me an itinerary on cardstock covered in swirled designs.
11:00 a.m.: Massage—to work out the kinks from your social media marathon
12:30 p.m.: Pedicure—so your feet are relaxed and able to “stand” all the attention
1:15 p.m.: Manicure—to make sure your nails are worth biting off in case you get nervous
2:00 p.m.: Shopping—so you can enter your new author life in clothes that match the moment
4:00 p.m.: Hair stylist—for a do that does as much work as you’ve done
5:00 p.m.: Dinner
6:00 p.m.: Bookstore—Melissa and Jen will kill me if I don’t get you to the party on time
I loved the itinerary, but for Lillian to do so much for me? Sure, we were friends, but this was too much.
“I see that look you’re giving me. Don’t worry, Lettie. This is a gift from Melissa, Jen, and me. We all pitched in. When they heard what I wanted to do for you, they were thrilled to be part of it. I’m just the lucky woman who gets to do it with you.”
“What’s the gift?” Anders asked. I handed him the cardstock itinerary. He scanned through it and whistled. “Sounds like quite a day.”
The idea that my agent, editor, and hero writer had gone in together to make this day so special meant everything to me. It meant they believed in me. It meant they were in this with me and would cheer for me. It meant that we were all friends.
