Page 95 of The Story of Us
“You’ve got a visitor,” Garrett’s secretary, a typical New York City glamazon, said. Hair perfectly smooth, her lips painted bright red to match the pantsuit she was wearing.
“What are you doing here?” Garrett said when he saw Nate. “Dude, you look like shit.”
Nate stood, his knees creaking from the effort, wincing when the sun blinded him. “Came straight from the airport.”
“To tell me that you love me?” Garrett cast a sceptical gaze over him.
To stop myself from telling Eloise that I love her. Ruining her future.
“For the lunch with Jemima Jenkins.”
“Looking like that? I don’t think so.” Garrett gestured towards what Nate knew were the bags under his eyes. He’d flown economy because assholes who broke beautiful girl’s hearts didn’t deserve any better and he’d been lucky to get any seat at such short notice. Garrett’s loud sigh echoed around the reception area. “Come on, mate.” He dragged the ‘a’ sound out, his attempt at an Australian accent so bad it should’ve been funny. But nothing was ever going to be funny again.
Heartbreak blew.
“You can use my bathroom to clean up. Have you eaten?”
Nate shook his head.
“Leave it with me. Let’s get you all pretty, and then you can tell me what the fuck is going on.”
* * *
A blisteringhot shower and several everything bagels later, Nate was sitting at Garrett’s favourite restaurant. Crisp, white linens covered the tables, and sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling making all the crystal goblets shine. A never-ending throng of people hustled past the windows. Walking through the crowded sidewalks had been brutal. The volume of people, the pace … Nate’s head pounded.
“Here we go,” Garrett muttered and stood. Nate followed suit, fixing an interview-ready smile on his face.
“This is a surprise,” Jemima Jenkins said, flicking her blonde curls over her shoulder before shaking their hands. “I thought you couldn’t make it.” There was a hint of teasing warmth to her tone like she couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t rearrange their schedule just to meet with her, which made sense considering the whole restaurant was staring at their table. She just had no idea what the real reason was.
“And miss the opportunity to celebrate such a great partnership? Nate would never.” Garrett sure was laying on the charm.
“What he said.” Nate hitched his thumb towards Garrett, certain he would’ve received an eye roll if Jemima Jenkins wasn’t standing right in front of them with two bodyguards and three assistants.
“Sit, sit, please.” Garrett pulled out a chair for Jemima and gestured for the white-jacket-clad waiter to bring over the drinks.
“It’s nice to meet you in person finally.” Jemima accepted a tall flute filled with pink champagne. Nate would bet it was her favourite. Garrett was always all over that sort of stuff.
“You, too.” The words were woolly, hard to get out, and Nate could pretend jetlag was to blame, but he knew the truth. His heart wasn’t in this. It was back home cursing him for being such an ass.
But it’s better this way.
“Shall we get the formalities out of the way so we can celebrate properly?” Garrett asked.
Jemima Jenkins smiled over the top of her drink. “A go-getter. I like it. Reminds me of myself when I first started out.”
“A deal’s only a deal once the ink is dry.” Garrett winked, lifting his tan leather Hermès briefcase to the table. He undid the clasp and pulled out the contracts. “Nate was just telling me about how excited he is to see theSmoky Mountain Killershit the small screen. How it’s a real dream come true.”
He winced when Garrett elbowed him. “I’m looking forward to seeing how your production company adapts it.”
Jemima Jenkins accepted the pen one of her assistants passed her, thumbing through the contract until she found the firstsign heretab. “We’ve got a lot of great ideas. I think your readers will be very happy. And you. We’re going to make a lot of money together, Nate, and I like making money. Don’t you?”
Nate sipped his water, trying to quell the bitter taste in his belly. It was irrational and irresponsible to act like money wasn’t important, but he genuinely couldn’t have given a flying fuck if he never made another dollar in his life. Was that made easier because he had enough in his bank account to retire very comfortably now? Yes, it was. But did it make him happy? Would it keep him satisfied until his days were done?
No. It sure as shit wouldn’t.
His palm tightened around his glass, drops of condensation from the cold glass pressing into his skin. This is what he had to look forward to. More meetings like this. Writing other books he thought his readers would like. Being the person everyone thought he was instead of the person he wanted to be because he was too scared to try. To really let people in.
This wasn’t the way Nate wanted to live his life. Like it was a lie.
