Page 9 of You & I, Rewritten

“I figured…seeing as this is, you know…a publishing house after all!” The sarcasm rolls of her tongue as she sits upright, marking the page she was on and crossing her arms.

“HA HA.” I mock at her. “No, it’s like areallygood manuscript. Like one of the best ones I’ve read in a while. Here, look!” I flip through the pages, looking for the specific passage I had in mind and hand it to her.

She takes the pages from me, scanning to the section I’ve highlighted with her lips pursed and starts reading.

“The hardest part wasn’t acknowledging that she never chose me,” Klair reads aloud. “The hardest part was accepting that this moment—the one that I’d been dreading my entire life—was definitively and heartbreakingly never about me.”

Klair reads on, her hand over her mouth and I watch as she experiences the same range of emotions I did while reading Lana’s work.

“Will,” her eyes are filled with tears, “This really is special. It’s such an authentic and unique voice. But, and I only ask this because I care, are you going to be able to work on this?”

“Of course I am,” I say, dismissing her concern. “This,” I say, waving the manuscript. “This is why I wanted to get into publishing in the first place—to connect with and amplify authors like Lana who speak so passionately about the human experience and the pain we cause one another.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she says, putting her hand on my arm. “I’ve just scratched the surface and can already tell how deeply emotional this one is, so I just want to make sure you’re not voluntarily taking on something that will be too much for you, that’s all!”

Her concern is genuine, which is one of the reasons I love her so dearly. Maybe she’s right—she usually is—I do have a soft spot for familial trauma.

“YouknowI’m an emotional junkie, girl…my bleeding heart lives for stuff like this!” I walk back to my desk and put Lana’s manuscript in my bag. “Besides, it’ll balance out all this lighthearted, wannabe Hallmark-level romance I have to get through,” I add, pointing to my now towering pile of recent submissions.

Klair shakes her head, turning her attention back to her work. “That may be so, but just make sure thatyouremotions are prioritized during all of this, okay?”

“Scout’s honor.”

The rest of the day goes by in a blur and as Klair and I pack up to head home for the night, the promise of Lana’s novel has ignited more inspiration than I’ve felt in a really long time. If I’m being honest, it’s the first time I’ve ever connected this intimately and immediately with the words of a new author. I just pray this moment of happenstance transforms into something beautiful.

For both of us.

CHAPTERFIVE

“Okay,can we go over this one more time?”

Klair and I have been sitting in our living room for the last two hours, sharing a bottle of red and running over my pitch of Lana’s book.

I’ve spent the last few days poring over every word in her manuscript.Obsessing over it, really.At this point, I feel like I know it inside and out.

“Absolutely not,” Klair says, bolting upright, nearly sloshing red wine all over our couch. “As much as I love you—which is a lot—and as much as I love Lana’s book—again…a lot—no more.” She gets up to stand in front of me, her hands on my shoulders. “You got this! You’re stressing yourself out for no reason. Damn, you’re stressingmeout and this isn’t even my pitch!”

I know she’s right. I’m totally in my head about this one. From a business standpoint, this book is a slam dunk, it practically sells itself, and from a reader’s perspective, Lana’s book will speak to a broad audience…something the publishing house will appreciate.

“This is my first pitch in this role, Klair…I’m allowed to be a little nervous.” My admission hangs in the air. There is nothing Ihatemorethan coming across as unqualified for a position, but I know that with Klair, her support is unwavering.

“Of course you are, and as someone who has known you areallylong time, trust me when I say that you got this! Graham, and the rest of the team for that matter, are going to love this book regardless of how your pitch goes…it’s a money maker!” I scowl at her. “But…I’ve heard your pitch—way too many times—and your passion is contagious. Have some faith in yourself!”

Easier said than done. I spend the rest of the evening doing everything in my power tonotthink about the coming workday, but when I’m not thinking about the pitch, I’m thinking about Graham’s mouth…which makes me start thinking of the pitch again.Kill me, now.Before moving back to New York, I never felt pressure like this. Is this new-job jitters? Or something more?

Eventually, I’m able to shut off my mind and succumb to a much-needed night’s rest. As much as I’m certain my dreams will be filled with some chaotic combination of public speaking and Graham’s gaze and sad books, I wake up refreshed and as ready as I’ll ever be. After showering and going back and forth on the perfect outfit—let’s be honest, I went with Klair’s recommendation—I head out into the kitchen, seeing that my fabulous roommate has prepared a cup of coffee for me.I don’t deserve this girl.Triple checking that I have everything I need for this morning’s meeting, I head out the door, more energized than ever to get this pitch over with and get the blessing to move forward on this project.

* * *

“Ughhh, what is that for?” Klair objects after I sneak up behind her, wrapping her in a massive bear hug. “Too tight! You’re going to wrinkle my outfit!” She laughs as she swats at my arms.

“I just adore you and am so lucky to have you in my life.” It’s true—I couldn’t imagine my life without her. “I don’t know if I tell you that enough, but I really do appreciate everything you’ve done, and continue to do, for me.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s because we’re family, William. I would do anything for you, just like I know you would do anything for me.” Extending her finger, she touches my nose and whispers, “Boop,” before laughing maniacally because she knows I hate and secretly love when she does that…especially in public!

“Don’t you have some big pitch to get ready for? Go on…shoo!” She gets back to work as I head to my desk smiling. Our staff meeting isn’t for another twenty minutes, ample time to grab another cup of coffee and make sure all of my materials are printed and presentable for the team.

As I head to our office’s shared snack area to brew my coffee, I look up to see Graham pacing in his office on a phone call, clearly animated in the discussion he’s having. He’s wearing his usual business attire: dark navy suit, crisp white oxford shirt slightly open at the neck, and a pair of impeccably polished brown dress shoes.Drool.

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