Page 50 of Not in the Plan

Charlie: ;-) I just want to say good luck today

Mack: I told my agent I was sick, but she called bull

Charlie: You’re going to be great. If you want to chat after, you can call me.

Mack didn’t want to chat after the signing. She wanted to swing by and recreate the hammock moment.

Mack: if you’d sit by me during the book signing, I’d feel so much better

Charlie: You’re funny

Mack: I’m not joking!

Mack: Hate this, but I’ve gotta run.

Charlie: all good. See you tomorrow ??

Tomorrow. A real live, adult, proper date. Yesterday, when she asked Charlie out, the words slipped from her lips before she could reel them back in. God bless fatigue, flooded floors, and Italian soda for giving her a swift kick in the ass to take the leap.

The giddiness of spending time with Charlie outside the shop counteracted the pending nerves from chatting with a hundred million people today. Everything about Charlie was warm and gooey, and Mack wanted to swallow it whole and let it swim in her belly. Charlie’s kindness, sharp tongue, laughter. Her hair… those lips.Damn.Mack had never felt a connection before. Not like this anyway. Wanting to sleep with the same person she wanted to talk to for hours was a new sensation. And more than a tad terrifying.

Also new? Flutters in her chest. The yearning to hear someone’s laugh. Wanting to know someone’s favorite ice cream, favorite movie,andfavorite position.

Mack clasped on a multi-layered necklace, double-checked her hair in the mirror, and read through all of her and Charlie’s text exchanges,again, gorging on the buzz. How did simply reading texts cause this much of a physiological reaction? She was a writer. These were words. And yet… all unholy places stirred.

“Bring it in.” Viviane’s bangles clanged like a symphony when she opened her arms wide for a hug.

The assaulting bright lights of the hotel lobby lessened as Mack closed her eyes and inhaled Viviane’s comforting signature coconut scent. “What time did you land?” She wrapped a conference badge Viviane handed her around her neck.

Viviane tugged the bottom of her satin gold shirt. “Didn’t get to the hotel until almost two in the morning.”

“I don’t understand how you still look beautiful jet-lagged.”

“Oh, Mack. Go on.” She swept her long braids over her shoulder with a grin. “Let’s get out of the lobby before any groupies spot you.”

She rolled her eyes, but Viviane wasn’t wrong. Growing up a certified book nerd, Mack hadnoidea the type of action she’d get offered at conferences and book signings. The number of people who slipped their contact info into her hand or asked to buy her a drink probably matched what bartenders at a swanky nightclub received. She shouldn’t indulge as much as she did, but it wasso easy. Every few months after maintaining a self-inflicted dry spell, she got laid to help her focus. Maybe hooking up with no intention of a relationship wasn’t cool, but a nonverbalized agreement of a mutually beneficial encounter always seemed present. She satisfied her physical needs and got her creative juices flowing, and they gained the notoriety of sleeping with one of their favorite authors. Dinner or breakfast was never part of the equation. And cuddling was out of the question. Doing rugged, messy, dirty things, then snuggling after, always felt a little gross.

“Let’s grab some coffee and snacks from the prep room.” Viviane simultaneously walked, talked, and texted like a champ. Her phone pinged so much it became like crickets chirping in the background. The beauty of having an agent to coordinate, talk, and sell meant Mack’s phone remained perfectly quiet.

“Mack Ryder. So excited to have you with us,” the blue-haired conference coordinator said as she approached with her hand outstretched. “I lovedThe Edge of the Shadow. Personal top five of all time.”

Less than twenty words spoken to someone outside her bubble, and already beads of sweat brewed beneath the surface. “Nice of you to say. Thank you.”Nice?She had a thesaurus in her brain and came up with “nice.”

“If your ears have been burning, it’s all the buzz about you from the attendees. People are really excited to learn from you today. You may have broken the record for the quickest time filling a class.”

Probably not true. But Mack smiled anyway. God, she wished she could take a compliment and move on. Now she was even more nervous, and her imposter syndrome demon sat upright on her shoulder, ready for battle.

The coordinator led them to the conference room. Without breathing, she rattled off the classroom’s technical capabilities, gave her the name of the moderator who’d be fielding questions from thevirtual audience, and asked for the third time if Mack needed a snack. An assistant knocked on the door juggling five bottles of water—per Mack’s strict request—and lined them up on the desk.Perfect. Now Mack was prepared for a coughing attack while presenting.

After the coordinator left, Mack paced the room’s perimeter, her pre-speech ritual.

“Woman.” Viviane’s clipped voice echoed in the open space. “The PowerPoint presentation is confirmed working, your microphone tested, and your obscene amount of water is here in case you need to take a bath.”

Mack tossed up her hands. “Yeah?”

“So why are you still pacing? You’ve already done your standard two times.”

Mack shrugged. Now was not the time to have a heart-to-heart or ask for love advice.

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