Page 105 of Resist

“Excuse me?” I’m not sure whether to laugh or not. “Who we?”

“Flamingo Publishing. I slipped it into a stack of potentialbooks for the company with one of the other acquisition managers anonymously to make sure I wasn’t accused of having a bias. It needed to be impartial. If it didn’t make it through acquisitions, then there was nothing lost, right? But they liked it.” She jerks her chin at the book. “They’ve already gone through one pass of edits.”

I blink as I flick through the book, there’s red pen everywhere.

“If you’re open to it, they’ve put together an editorial feedback letter for you to work on and suggested changes to make. If you’re not, well, at least you know you had what it took to get published. Do with that what you will.”

I’m flicking through the pages of the book, there’s all manner of notes scribbled all over the book. We usually don’t send the author a hardcopy, it’s all done online, but there’s something about having a physical copy of things that flag some errors more than a screen does.

Pretty sure Corabelle is making a point handing me the paper copy. It makes more of an impact than an email would at this venture.

“You want my book?”

She nods. “We do. We want more, too. But I know what you said about it being just one so, like I said, it’s all up to you. Whatever you want to do, just know the door is open.”

I’m still blinking at the pages in front of me, there’s a faint ringing in my ears. She read it. I wave the book at her. “You read my book?”

She nods again.

“But I only printed it a few days ago.”

“Yeah. You left the printer on. It piqued my interest. I did a little investigating. I knew you’d never put it forward yourself, so I thought I’d give you that wifely nudge and do it for you.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Wifely nudge. You mean shove me off the edge of the cliff?”

The edge of her lips tug into a smile. “Yeah, but at least I’ll jump with you, right? I’m sorry. I know it’s rich, me prying into your things given my meltdown when you were going through my stuff, but...” She shrugs.

“I know. It was for a good cause.” I actually don’t feel violated as much as I probably should. Her intentions were good. Neither of us brings up the fact that my intentions were not at all good when I went hunting through her things.

She purses her lips. “I wanted you to know how talented you really are.” She leans forward and takes both my hands. “And you are, Sterling. You have real talent here. Your words jump off the page. If you wanted a career in writing, you could have one. I just...” She worries her lip between her teeth. “You said you weren’t sure what you wanted to do, or be, or who you were without all the noise. If this is it...” She pats the book. “You’re really damn good.”

This fucking woman. My heart swells, pressing against my ribcage like it may explode. “I love how much you believe in me.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” She holds the book up and flicks through it. “While it’s true, and I do, this is external validation, not Mrs. Corabelle Montgomery validation.”

I make a half-snort, half-laughing sound. “Wait, what? I could have sworn you just said Corabelle Montgomery.”

Red blotches start blooming across her chest as she reaches for her purse at her feet, dropping it on her lap. She pulls out her wallet, and slides her driver’s license across the table to me without saying a word.

I have no idea what to do with this. She’s changed her name. That, or she’s gotten a fake ID made. What the fuck.

I look from her, to the ID, to her again. “Wh... How? When?”

She rolls her lips. “It can take anywhere from a day to six months to change your name in Minnesota.” She lifts one of her shoulders. “It arrived this morning, I figured why wait?”

It’s like my emotions are all on overdrive. “Y-you changed your name?”

Her inflamed cheeks are adorable as a flicker of doubt passes through her eyes. “Surprise?” She holds her hands up. “Is that okay? I think it fits me better than Dad’s name, or even Mom’s last name.”

It’s only been two months, but the love I have for this woman threatens to break my body into a million pieces of warm, white light. Fuck. She took my name. She... took my name.

I stare at the piece of plastic between my fingers, and my manuscript sitting next to me on the table. Fuck. The growth in her in the last eight weeks has been monumental, but in that time, she’s never been the type of person who is indecisive. She’s a “knows what she wants and goes out and gets it” kind of woman.

She’s not the sort of person to make a hasty decision and regret it. She’s an over-thinker, generally risk averse, and whip smart.

Her name change wasn’t done on a whim. She wants this, wants me. If you’d told me nine weeks ago that I’d want to marry a Blackwell, I’d have punched you in the face, then laughed. But knowing this Blackwell changed her name to mine, chose me,lovesme, makes my heart sing.

BC, Before Corabelle doesn’t exist anymore. There is only AC, After Corabelle. And I’m going to spend every day for the rest of my life loving her any way she’ll let me.

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