Page 31 of Now That It's You
“No shit, Sherlock,” Kendall said.
“My book is on The Tonight Show.” She gripped the back of the sofa, not believing her own eyes.
“It would appear that way.”
“How did Kiki-Fucking-Corso get my book?”
“I have no idea. Can’t anyone order it on Amazon?”
“Well, yeah, but no one has. I’ve had the link up there for almost three years and I’ve sold less than a dozen of them. None in the last year. How did the most famous actress in the universe get my?—”
“So, Kiki,” Jimmy said, and Meg stopped talking. “Are you the new pitch-woman for this book or something?”
“Not at all,” she said, tossing her trademark blond tresses. “I’m just enjoying the benefits of it, and also really loving the little details. You know, the character I play in my new film is a chef, so I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on and?—”
Kiki prattled on about her new movie, but Meg stood staring at the cover of her cookbook perched on the edge of the host’s desk.
“I don’t understand,” Meg said.
Kendall picked up her phone. “Siri, how many viewers does The Tonight Show have?”
Meg swallowed hard as Kendall stared at the screen of her iPhone. She held it up, though Meg couldn’t possibly see anything from this distance. “Four-point-five million. Four-point-five people just saw Kiki Corso recommend your cookbook.”
“I have to sit down.”
Meg felt her knees start to buckle, but she gripped the edge of the couch tighter to keep herself upright. Somewhere in her hazy peripheral, she saw Kendall stand up and set the popcorn bowl on the coffee table and walk around the sofa to Meg’s side, but Meg’s eyes stayed glued to the screen.
“Are you okay?” Kendall grabbed the wine bottle from her hand, and Meg looked down to see she’d spilled some on the floor.
“I’ll get that,” Kendall said, hustling into the kitchen to grab a rag as The Tonight Show faded to a commercial. “Why don’t you go sit on the sofa and let me wait on you?”
“What?” Meg blinked and looked away from the television, her gaze shifting to her best friend. “What the hell for?”
“You’re about to be famous, hon.” Kendall grinned. “I want to be the one who poured you your first glass of champagne.”
Chapter 6
Kyle glanced at his watch, wondering if it was too late to drop by Meg’s house on a Monday night. He’d tried to call at least a dozen times over the last week, but her phone went straight to voicemail. At first he’d figured she was screening his calls, maybe avoiding him after the disastrous kiss-that-wasn’t-actually-a-kiss incident.
He didn’t blame her.
But when her phone started giving him the mailbox is full message, he’d started to worry. Dropping by her house unannounced was probably a dumb idea, but so were a lot of things he’d done when it came to Meg.
He pressed the doorbell and glanced at his watch again, realizing this was the third time he’d looked at it in the last five minutes and he still had no idea what time it was. Nine p.m. What if she was out on a date? What if she was already in bed? What if she?—
“Kyle.”
Her voice washed over him like a warm wave, and he looked up to see her standing in the open doorway.
He swallowed, taken aback by the sight of her. Something had changed in the ten days since he’d stood here last. Her hair was even wilder than usual, piled in a frizzy ball on top of her head and anchored by something that looked like a chewed-up pen. Her feet were bare as usual, but her eyes looked oddly frantic, and was her T-shirt on inside out?
“I’m sorry, were you on the phone?” He gestured at the iPhone in her hand, and Meg looked down at it like she’d never seen it before.
“God, the phone hasn’t stopped ringing all week. All day, all night—then there’s the email and the social media messages and the hits to that silly blog I haven’t updated for three years and?—”
“What are you talking about?”
Meg cocked her head to one side. “Haven’t you heard?” She gave a wry little laugh and shook her head. “Sorry, why would you? Just because I’ve been bombarded by this stuff for a week straight doesn’t mean the rest of the world has.”
