Page 30 of Novel Problems

“George, seriously. You’re going to be wrecked tomorrow if you don’t get some more sleep.” Hannah’s voice, low and gentle, tugged at my chest. My gaze met her soft brown eyes.

“I’m okay, really. I went to bed early last night, so I’ve had some sleep. I doubt I’d go back to sleep now anyway.” Hopefully Ben would be back today, since Hannah would be in no state to work.

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, if you’re sure, I would love some tea.” She put down her pen and did some hand stretches.

By the time I’d brought Hannah back a tea, I needed torefresh her pile ofto be signedbooks, and there was a pile of signed books to pack back into boxes. For the next while, we worked in a silent production line, Hannah autographing while I packed the signed books away and brought her fresh books. All the while, I stole glances at her, trying to reconcile the fact that this gorgeous woman who I’d spent so much time with over the past three days was also a genius fantasy author, creator of worlds and complex characters. I was itching to ask Hannah so many questions, but I didn’t want to disturb her when she needed to focus on signing books.

“Only a five more boxes. You’re nearly there,” I said as I finished packing another box of signed books.

“Oh, thank god!” Hannah rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms out wide.

I tore open the next box. On top of it was a piece of paper. Sleepily, I gazed at it for a few seconds before realizing what it was. Underneath the title “Personalizations,” there was a table with a list of names, addresses, and, in some cases, messages. My eyes flicked down the first few rows:

Happy Birthday, Sam!

Good luck with your writing, Marj.

I looked up at Hannah, dreading breaking the news to her. “Um, so it looks like these need to be personalized.”

“Oh shit.” Hannah’s face crumpled. “I’d completely forgotten about that.”

“I wish I could help you with them, but, well, that would be forgery. But I could read them to you—that might be faster.”

“Are you sure? That would be amazing.”

I nodded, and as soon as Hannah had finished signing the books piled up next to her, I began reading out thepersonalizations. The first few were very generic, wishing people happy birthdays and anniversaries.

“Dear Jeffrey, thank you for all your support. You are my favorite reader, and I cherish you deeply. Love, HM.” I stopped and snorted.

“It does not say that!” Hannah snatched the piece of paper out of my hand and stared at it, bleary eyes wide with disbelief. “Oh my god! You’d think someone would have vetted these before passing them on to me. What am I supposed to do? I knowJeffreypaid a premium for the personalization, but I don’t feel comfortable writing that to a complete stranger, even if I’m not signing it with my real name.” She let out a sound that was halfway between a groan and a chuckle.

“What about if you change the second sentence toI cherish all my readers deeply?” At least, that way, it’s not Jeffrey-specific.”

Hannah chewed on her lip, distracting me from thinking of any alternative wording, and then nodded. “Thanks. That’ll do, I think. To be honest, I’m so tired right now my sympathy for Jeffrey and his personalization request is low.” She picked up her pen and then looked at me with a sheepish smile on her face. “I’ve already forgotten what it said. Would you mind repeating it again?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HANNAH

In a half dream-like state, I gradually became aware that the light around me had changed. The sun was rising.

I put down my pen and looked at my watch, yawning. It was just past 6 a.m., and I was half-way through the second last box of books, which thankfully did not require personalizations.

I glanced over at George, who was slumped on one of the armchairs, asleep. After reading out the last box of personalized messages to me, she’d made us both another hot chocolate and sat on the armchair to drink it while I kept signing. Despite her claims that she didn’t need more sleep, a minute later, she was snoring softly.

Warmth crept over my body as I watched her sleeping, eyes shut and face soft and relaxed, her chest moving slowly up and down. I’d insisted all night that she go back upstairs to bed, but she’d steadfastly refused. Instead, she’d made me hot drinks, helped unpack and pack the books, kept me awake during my hand-stretching sessions by chatting with me, and stepped in to save me on a few occasions. If itwasn’t for her, I wasn’t sure how I would have gotten through the night. And she’d done it all despite me breaking into Novel Gossip and revealing who I really was. While she’d initially seemed shocked, angry and more than a little confused, the shock and anger appeared to have dissipated as I’d explained how I’d gotten into the predicament. She’d been so understanding, and also opened up to me about her own experiences dating Alexis Merritts. George was so down-to-earth and self-assured, I couldn’t quite imagine her being the reluctant plus one at a political gala or the center of media speculation. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing how she scrubbed up in a tux…

Worried George might be cold, I grabbed the throw off the other armchair and carefully put it over her. I hovered above her for a second, admiring her face close up—her brown eyebrows, faint freckles on her nose and cheeks, and soft red lips. I fought the desire to trace my fingertips over her lips and run my hand through her short hair. She let out an adorable little snore and I smiled.

I dragged myself away from ogling George and back to the pile of books in front of me, but I couldn’t help shooting glances at her as I slowly made my way through it. Exhausted, I was just packing the last of the signed books into a box when the keys jingled in the front door. I looked up and saw Romina enter.

She did a double-take when she saw me. “Hannah! What are you doing here so early?” Her eyes traveled over to George and widened further. Romina lowered her voice. “Looks like you guys had a big night.”

“It’s a long story,” I said, eager to avoid going into any detail.

Romina raised an eyebrow but left it alone. “Well, let me know if you need anything.” She bustled toward thekitchen. A few moments later, metal clanging sounds indicated that she’d started food prep for the day.

By the time I’d piled all the boxes in a corner and packed away the pens, it was 7:30 a.m., and the café was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of muffins baking. My stomach rumbled. I was looking forward to shoveling one into my face as soon as they were out of the oven.

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