Page 12 of You & I, Rewritten

I can see Lana’s gears turning and it’s immediately clear she’s someone who chooses the words she strings together with great care.

“For me, a first-generation Japanese American whose mother couldn’t see beyond her own cultural upbringing and a father—well, a father I’ve learned to stop asking questions about…I think it’s foolish to think the pain of a writer’s past doesn’t inadvertently find itself woven within the heart of their work.”

She shifts her gaze toward the window as the vulnerability of her words lingers between us—one that tugs at my heart in a way that is far too relatable and confirms my initial gut feeling about herdespitethe unusual nature of our paths crossing.

“That’s all I needed to hear. I don’t know if you’ve sent this to anyone else or not…frankly, I don’t care. I want to be the one to work with you on this.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. If you choose to do so, I’d be honored to work with you.”

“Why?” she asks, her voice soft.

“Because you have a profoundly unique voice, Lana. One that many authors would kill for. It’s the reason why I wanted to meet with you today…to tell you that in person. If you decide to work with me, great. I can promise you that I will throw everything I have into making sure this book is your best work possible. And if not? I wanted you to hear from me that what you’ve written matters, and it deserves to be shared.”

She’s staring at me through narrowed eyes and I’m certainly not going to be the one to break eye contact. But after what feels like the longest staring contest in the world, her lips pull up into a faint smile. “Where do we start?”

Genuine relief and happiness crash over me. I wanted this. I really,reallywanted this.

“Well, for starters,” I say, pushing her manuscript toward her, “you can begin with these minor edits.”

Lana fans the pages in front of her, her eyes widening at the amount of notes and comments I’d left in the margins. “Minor edits?” she says, putting her head in her hands. “What the hell did I just sign up for?”

I laugh, reaching across the café table and patting her arm. “Oh, this is nothing. Just you wait!”

We both start laughing as we dive into a conversation about the first couple of chapters of her book, our working relationship already starting on a high note.

* * *

Klair bombards me the second I get back to the office.

“Well?” she asks, taking a seat on my desk.

“I think it went really well. Likereallywell.” Lana and I both left seemingly on the same page that we would move forward working with one another. There’s a lot of paperwork to fill out on my end, but in the meantime, I gave Lana some direction to begin the editing process, which she promised to get a jumpstart on.

“That’s amazing, Will. See? I told you it would!”

“As always, Ms. Thompson...you were right,” I say, laughing and leaning my head against her arm.

“Don’t you forget it,” she teases, reaching to mess up my hair.

“I would rethink that if I were you,” I say, quickly pulling my head out of her reach. “Get back to work before Graham comes out here and sees you being a nuisance.”

“HA HA…But the only thing Graham would see is you looking at him with heart eyes.” She gets up from my desk, sticking her tongue out at me.This girl.

“Klair!Can you NOT do that? Thanks,” I say, shaking my head at her insinuation. But, I mean, she’s not wrong. That man isfine.I fire up my computer, open a new email and begin drafting a message to Lana.

Her quick reply makes me smile—I knew I liked her for a reason—and as excited as I’ve been since her manuscript came across my desk, this is the first time that this whole situation has felt real. Seeing my team’s excitement and interest in Lana’s work and then finally meeting her in person solidified this whole thing. I just pray that my gut about her and about this book is right.

CHAPTERSIX

I’ve just sentmy seventh unanswered text to Lana, which causes me to throw my phone clear across the room.

Tonight is the publishing house’s annual New Voices in Writing Gala, one that introduces our newly signed authors to the world of publishing and allows them the opportunity to be wined, dined, and celebrated before their lives turn upside down, especially if we all do our jobs right.

It also allows us editors to show off the fruits of our labor, and tonight was supposed to be the night I got to proudly show off my prized-acquire, Lana Taylor, who has written one of the rawest and most profound manuscripts I’ve ever read. Honestly, I’ve become obsessed. Her writing has consumed me and it’s all I can think about and as Klair will attest, it’s all I talk about anymore.

Sure, her inexperience bleeds through the pages she’s sent me, but what she has is a deeply personal story that punches any reader straight in the heart. Everything else is workable.

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