Page 7 of Love is an Open Book
“Hardly on your own,” she says, with a childish singsong lilt. “Ever think that having a best friend with movie-star good looks might be making some guys hesitate about going all in?”
We’ve had a version of this conversation for nearly a decade. “Any guy who’s jealous of Gavin isn’t worth my time.”
“Agreed. But you two are so...” She flaps her hands, searching for the right word. “In sync.”
“That’s what happens when you’re friends with someone so long, and exactly why no one I date should feel threatened by him. If we’d ever had feelings for each other, it would’ve come between us by now and he’d be long gone.”
She clicks her tongue. “Do you really think that?”
“I know that.” Friendships endure. Relationships are a gamble, and so far, a losing one. “Right now, dating is the last thing I need on my to-do list.”
Rising, Kim says, “Dating isn’t something to put on a checklist, so if you’re feeling that way, it makes sense to take a break.” She starts emptying the next shelf, placing books in the box at her feet. “How’s the draft coming along? Wasn’t sure if you’d make it today with your deadline coming up.”
When I’m getting close to turning in a book, I need a lot of uninterrupted writing time. My family and friends used to try to coax me out of the writing cave, but now they know what to expect. Doesn’t stop them from showing up on my doorstepwhen I forget to answer texts, but these days it’s to bring a meal or make sure I’m remembering to hydrate.
But my deadline isn’t as close as Kim thinks. I haven’t mentioned that I asked my publisher for an extension. Partly because then she’d assume my schedule is open, and extra time or not, I need to focus on work. Also, I’m feeling pretty discouraged about needing to ask for one in the first place. “About as well as a book I never should’ve agreed to write can go.”
I don’t pitch a book unless I know I can execute it. But in this case, the Hollywood producers who’ve done an incredible job adapting my most popular series came to me with a pitch of their own that filled me with misguided belief in my ability to create chemistry between two characters whose story I abandoned years ago.
My bestselling bookish-themed contemporary romance trilogy is now a hit show, and I agreed to write a bonus book to please fans who wanted to see the best friend side characters get their own happy-ever-after.
Before the publication of the trilogy, I’d had consistent sales, but whether it was the concept or the chemistry, readers fell hard for the series centered around characters in the publishing industry. The rights sold to a big-time production company who greenlighted the project right away. Before the final episode of the second season aired last year, fans were already clamoring for a fourth season, this time featuring the lovable side characters, Sydney and Victor.
“I figured this one would be a cinch to write since you’re so familiar with Sydney and Victor by now,” Kim says.
I’m familiar with them all right, because what no one besides Gavin knows is they were the main characters in my first manuscript, the one I shelved after my breakup with Ted.
The front door slams and saves me from coming up with an excuse for why I’m struggling to get a handle on this book.Gavin’s deep, familiar voice calls out, “Who’s hungry? I brought doughnuts.”
“About time you got here,” I yell back, even though I’m honestly surprised he found a parking spot this quickly.
Kim winces at my shout. “Mia.” She gives me a big-sisterly glare to act right, but Gavin and I always mess around. “Tell him the plates are packed, but there are some napkins on top of the fridge.”
I heave myself up off the bare floor and head out to the entryway, where Gavin is inspecting a hole in the drywall. “Should’ve brought my putty knife to patch these.”
“Pretty sure Ted won’t appreciate you doing more than you already are.”
His brows tug together. “We care what Ted thinks now?” In true best friend fashion, he holds a worse grudge than I do. He would’ve never brought his truck to help them move today if it weren’t for me asking on Kim’s behalf.
“My sister does, so I do.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Passing me a box of doughnuts with the logo of the shop at the end of the block, he leans in and lowers his voice. “Are we mentioning the extension?”
I blow out a breath. “I haven’t yet.”
“You’re being proactive, Mia. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Proactively stuck.” I bought myself two months of extra time—now I don’t need to turn in the manuscript until late fall—but so far, breathing room hasn’t equaled inspiration.
“Proactively making time for yourself to get unstuck,” he says. “This book could tank, and you’d still be a huge success. Just give it time.”
“Not sure time will help.” But I’m not giving up. One of these days I’ll find a way through. Until then I’m sticking to my schedule, even though lately I end up deleting most of what I write. “Doughnuts might, though.”
Cradling the box of sugary goodness, I scoot past boxes on the way to the kitchen.
Kim comes in a moment later, no doubt lured by the sweet tooth we share. “Thanks for helping out, Gavin.” Ever the polite one, she stops to hug him before descending on the doughnuts.
“No problem,” he says. “But with you leaving Chicago, where will we crash after a night out?”
