“What if she doesn’t?” I asked.
Pri shrugged. “Then she doesn’t. It’s a nice distinction and title to hold, but ultimately only means that a lot of readers bought her book.” She gave a quick wink. “I believe Jess will easily achieve it this time.”
I smiled. “Good. She deserves the distinction.”
“Agreed. Keep me updated,” she said. “Bastian is quiet, and I tell him he holds the honor of being my most difficult client, but he’s also my favorite. Don’t tell him that. Not that he’d let it go to his head, or anything. He’s actually quite humble.”
“I understand.”
“And if I can do anything from my side, I will.”
“Thanks, Pri. It was good to meet you.”
“You as well.”
The screen closed before I could issue an officialgoodbye,but that seemed less awkward anyway. For some reason, meeting Priyanka and finding approval made me feel a step closer to Bastian.
To . . . something that loomed ahead.
The sound of the silence that followed crackled slightly, like fire burning every bridge to the unknown, vague future that I still hadn’t built yet.
18
BASTIAN
The launch of my twenty-first novel passed in a smoky blur.
After texting Dahlia, I had to mentally set aside all the implications that her supportive text message built inside of me. The words looped through my head for minutes before I could dismiss them.
Of course! How could I show up for you while making cappuccinos? I got your back!
She did, in fact, have my back.
Maybe something more.
With that thought, I put a mental wall up and dove into fire work. I couldn’t be at the Frolicking Moose, so I had to be wholly here. Divided attention would only endanger me and my team, so I stuck to the chainsaw and cleared line like a machine. Trying to forget what I couldn’t control gave me ample fuel.
Smoke stung my eyes and filled my lungs most of the day. We worked ahead of the fire, but the air remained thick as custard anyway. Char drifted around the mountains and cast a haze over everything. It became part of me. By the time we left, I almost didn’t know myself from the smoke.
Showers were rare for this job. Some wildland firefighters wore their grime like a badge of honor. After ten-something days without scrubbing off under streaming water, my skin had started to itch. By this part of the summer, I’d usually gotten used to it. The heat of the sun and the dryness had increased tenfold this year, though, and everything felt worse. Some days, salt dried on my skin in a white, powder-like grit that I’d rub off and replace within hours of more back breaking work.
As I settled back onto my pad that night, I still hadn’t let myself think about the launch. AboutWanderlust is a Battleor even about Dahlia.
There was too much angst to let my thoughts stay there for too long. When I finally did think about it, everything settled like a weight.
Before I turned to my phone, which I had ignored while it charged in the truck, I sat in the fear of what would come next. Launches inevitably meant more attention. Had Katrina figured out my secret and outed me? Had the hopeful push for the bestselling slot failed? Did the influencers come through? Was there a flood of issues and nothing happened?
The anxiety sat on my chest like a constricting weight until I finally muttered a curse word and flipped my phone over.
Two video messages from Dahlia waited and a plethora of text messages.
Dahlia:Your sales ranking finally topped #5 around noon. And . . .
GIF
Her GIF of blowing trumpets made me raise an eyebrow.
Almost a full minute later, a picture finally downloaded. I zoomed in, startled to see a picture of the computer screen. After a beat, I finally comprehended what the array of numbers meant.