Page 114 of Read Me (Forget the Past 2)

A short while later, when I’m pulling back into my driveway with a fresh pizza, I see Summer’s car already here.

Thank god.

I circle around back, taking three stairs at a time. In the kitchen I barely pause to put down the food before jogging to my bedroom. Summer sits cross-legged on my bed, her skirt bunched high on her thighs as she fiddles with the remote. Any other day, I’d kneel in front of her, slide off her panties, and give her a post-work orgasm with my tongue.

But today I have news.

“Did you get pizza?” she asks.

“I got a book deal.”

Quiet descends over the room as Summer’s eyes flick to mine, going wide.

“You what?” The remote drops from her hand, bouncing from my mattress onto the floor.

“I got a book deal,” I repeat. “My agent called earlier and told me.”

Slowly, my librarian unfolds herself, standing from the bed. “You wrote a book? And it’s going to be published?” She sounds mystified.

Fingers tapping rapidly on my jeans, I anxiously wait for something other than her complete confusion. Maybe I should’ve told her about my manuscript and signing with an agent. As far as Summer knows, I just write my serialized story.

“Next year. As long as I sign the contract. Which I will,” I say.

As she continues to stare at me, my fingers drum faster.

I’m not sure what reaction I expected.

No, that’s not true. In my daydreams, I came up with a hundred different Summer reactions to this possible news.

I expected screeching and dancing and grabbing random things.

Something like when she found out about The Inked Dragon.

I expected gushing.

But Summer just stares at me, her lips parted. She’s doing none of my hoped-for reactions.

So I keep talking.

“My agent has been shopping it around for a while now, and I wasn’t sure a publisher would want it. I mean, fantasy isn’t always the biggest seller. But my agent thought it was good, and a lot of people likeThe Seven Siblings, so—”

My words are cut off when Summer steps up to me. Another emotion has bled into her gaze. She’s no longer bewildered. Now there’s a pure wave of joy that crashes from her into me.

Her hands frame my face. She has soft palms, soothing like silk on my cheeks.

“I know you did this all on your own, but I amsoproud of you.” The words come on a low, worshipful murmur. They dig into me and caress every inch of my self-doubt.

“Summer…”

She shakes her head, smiling all the while, as if she knows I want to duck away from her praise as much as I want to bask in it.

“I am. You are amazing.” Pride shines from her eyes, and my entire body clenches, my muscles going so tight I begin to shake.

This is better.

This is so much better than gushing.

I didn’t realize that I’d want more. That I’d need more from her than an overeager fan reaction. If we hadn’t known each other, if she hadn’t cared about me first, her adoration would’ve felt empty. Fleeting.

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