Page 106 of The Bodyguard Affair
“She also said to live a loud life. A life so big, so full of meaning, that even if one day you forget some of the things you’ve done, you’ll have given people one of the most important things we have in this world.”
“What’s that?”
“Happiness. Hope. Even if it’s temporary.”
Maybe he’s exactly right. I can’t continue letting my life pass me by in a whisper. I deserve to pursue my dreams in vivid color. To live loud and live big. Maybe I don’t have to be scared or ashamed anymore to be A. A. Zed, or even Andi Zeigler. And I certainly shouldn’t have to choose one or the other.
Chapter 48
Andi
The headlines have come out this morning, officially linking my pen name to me.
Inevitably, Mom called. Her reaction was as expected. She was scandalized and surprised, but mostly offended that I kept my writing a secret. To be honest, I think she was just impressed by the whole deal announcement. I told her I’d provide her a redacted copy of the book, minus the steamy bits.
Mom isn’t the only one who’s surprised. Laine comes over, which is unexpected.
“So you actually wrote the book?” Laine asks the moment she steps into my apartment.
“Yeah. I did,” I say, managing to maintain eye contact with an iota of confidence.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, not bothering to take off her shoes or coat.
“I’m sorry, Laine. I didn’t tell anyone, especially not people I work with. I couldn’t afford to have people not take me seriously.”
Her brows draw together tightly as she leans against the wall in the entryway. “Okay, but I’m not just some person you worked with. We’re supposed to be best friends. You know everything about me.”
I don’t really know how to respond to that. “Are we, though? I mean, I barely see you.”
“What? We hang out all the time. I invited you to my wedding.”
“I know. But we only see each other a couple times a year,” I counter, the sting of distance between us palpable. “You hang out with your work friends all the time and never invite me. And it’s been that way ever since I started working for Gretchen.”
“Because we work together. It’s easy to go for drinks after work. I’m sorry. I figured you wouldn’t want to be invited. It’s not like you really like hanging out with them, and you have nothing in common with them. And then there’s the Hunter thing. Most of them are friends with him and I figured it would be awkward for you.” Her reasoning makes sense, but it doesn’t ease the hurt.
“Honestly, I’ve felt like we haven’t been nearly as close over the past few years,” I admit.
“So that’s why you’ve decided to have a whole secret life behind my back?”
I squeeze my eyes closed. She’s right. “No. I didn’t tell you because if I did, you would have judged me. Hard.”
“Why would you say something like that? Is that really what you think of me?” she asks, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Yes. All you used to talk about was serious literature. Youturn your nose up at rom-coms. You called them trash. Remember?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Exactly,” I interject, folding my arms tightly over my chest.
“I wouldn’t have said something like that if I’d known,” she says regretfully.
“See? If you’d known,” I point out. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I was ashamed and I shouldn’t have been. That was on me and my own insecurity.” If anything, I’m the one who refused to see my writing for what it is. Not just salacious stories filled with steam, but stories about love and all its intricacies—something people universally long for.
She takes a step closer. “Andi, I’m sorry about all of this. I’m sorry we’ve gotten distant over the last few years. I’ve missed you a lot, you know.”
“Really?”
“Every time I stay late at work, I think about our intern days. Sending each other code words over internal messenger whenever Raj would bring up his master’s degree from Queens.”
