Page 7 of Tell Me You Love Me

“Fun fact.” He goes back to glancing out the side window, awe playing across his features while Dave’s horses race us as far as their fences allow. “Did you know you can breed sheep by making a red sheep and a blue sheep kiss?”

“Uh…” My son said breed. He saidbreed! “What?”

“When they stop kissing, there’s a purple sheep. That’s how you do it.”

“Well…”

“But that’s in Minecraft. Not real life. Everyone knows that’s not how you breed animals in real life.”

What the everloving fuck?“Okay…”

“To breed animals in real life, you need to make them marry first. Do you think Farmer Dingus marries his animals so they can make new animals?”

“Yep. Absolutely. Theyhaveto be married first. It’s the law.” My phone trills through the speakers, my agent’s name flashing on the screen. And though I’ve declined a half dozen of her calls in the last week, I frantically accept this one. Anything to change the subject. “Hi, Helen. You’re on speaker in the car.”

“Oh, hey. Hi Franky. You in there, too?”

Sour, he folds his arms and flops back into his seat, wrinkling his lips and nose.

“He can hear you,” I answer for him. “But he doesn’t want to talk right now. We’re almost at my mom’s, so we’re both a little tired. What’s up?”

“Okay, so I was talking to the editor over at Elyte Publishing; she’s willing to accept your manuscript as is. They’ve made an offer above that which we’d last discussed, so I emailed that to you, too. I told her you were traveling this week, so you probably wouldn’t be able to take a look for a few days. So she’s expecting a reply next week sometime.”

“She wants to accept it as is?” My heart whips painfully against my diaphragm, knocking the wind from my lungs and leaving me anxiously searching for more. In my haste to escapebreeding, I’ve run face-first into books. “She didn’t like the main male lead. She wanted to change him.”

“She didn’t say she didn’t like him. She said he was harsh and tossed around the idea of softening him a little, that’s all.”

“But I didn’t…” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth. “I refused, so I expected them to rescind their offer.”

“Well, now they’re proposing more money, and Marianne is happy to take him as he is. That’s great news!”

“That’s…” I noisily exhale, slowing the car as we round a bend. God help me; a bull is doing the blue sheep-red sheep thing right there in broad daylight. “Hey, Franky?” I point to the other side of the road. “See that windmill? It harnesses the power of the wind to turn, and then it uses the friction it creates to pump water out of the ground. Isn’t that cool?”

To him? To his brain?Hell yeah, it’s cool.

“That’s a lot of money, Helen. Why would they offer more and accept a manuscript they didn’t like before?”

“They nevernotliked it! In fact, theylovedit. They just worried the hero was too critical, especially in the third act. His anger makes for amazing tension, but that doesn’t negate Marianne’s concerns with how he’d be received. She was worried he wouldn’t earn every reader’s forgiveness.”

“Why would she offer more money when I refused to change him? Her concerns remain unresolved.”Why am I such a self-sabotaging asshole?“He’s still harsh. He’s still unlikable. And ya know what? Oh, Franky, look!” I point toward the lake as we pass, and the massive, picturesque home Edwin Sanderson built for his wife eons ago.God, I always looked at that home and wondered what it would be like to live that life.“My hero is still unlikable, Helen. He’s mean and flawed. He probably won’t convinceall readers he’s the right choice for the heroine.” I pause, lifting my shoulder in a shrug, though she’s not here to see it. “I’m not sure Elyte realizes the risk they’re taking.”

“This is Marianne’s job, Alana. This is not her first day in the office, and you’re not the first writer she’s dealt with. If she’s making an offer and allowing you to slide through with no major edits, it means she believes in the story. You should take the deal.”

No. I don’t think I should.

“Kinda makes me wonder if she’s even good at her job.” Pettiness seeps into my veins, kicking out the remaining dregs of being-in-Plainview anxiety. I only have room for one. “Sheshouldwant to change stuff. There’s no way the story is flawless. That she wants itas ismakes me think she’s phoning this in and doesn’t believe in the story at all. Like she has a quota to fill and books to buy before her boss gets mad at her.”

“Literally not how the industry works,” she drawls. “And you’re talking yourself in circles. You worked your butt off for this, Alana. You put in the hours, sweating and bleeding for it, but now that someone on the outside wants the book, you’re tying yourself in knots trying to get out of making a deal. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you even want to be published at all.”

Franky’s scoff reverberates all the way to the front seat.

“Of course I want to publish. I just don’t want to give my book to the wrong team and risk it being fumbled. I want an editor who truly understands what I wrote. A house that believes in the story and intends to have it read by the masses. Marianne allowing me to keep a hero she hardly likes is a red flag.”

“You’re being intentionally difficult.”

“More cows, Mom!” Franky pokes his head between the two front seats. “Do you see them?”

“I see them.”I saw them every single day of my childhood. I was raised in this hellhole. “We’re about a minute out, Helen, so I’m gonna let you go.”

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