Page 190 of Between the Lines

“Well, a bit of secondhand embarrassment, I will admit. But it’s becausehe’sso cringeworthy. Entertaining, sure. But he’s the cringey one. Not me.”

“Of course he is, sweetheart. He’s an asshole.”

She laughs again, and it’s a sound of such relief that it makes my fists relax against the cushion.

“I thought… I thought I wouldn’t make it through five minutes. I thought I would be a sobbing mess on this couch. But I’m not. I’m not, Aiden.”

“You’re strong,” I tell her. “And you’ve grown so much since you were that nineteen-year-old.”

“I have.” Her smile fades, and she tracks her younger self’s movements on the screen. Looking tired and red from the sun, the Charlotte of a decade ago nervously looks around at the other, older contestants. “You know what? That girl? If she was anyone but me, I would feel for her.” Her voice turns thoughtful. “Isn’t that… I should feel for her, too. Past me. I was young and in way over my head, and I navigated it all as best I could.”

“You definitely did.”

She shakes her head slowly. “Compassion, maybe. Is that the answer? I didn’t realize...”

“You’ve shown it to a ton of your memoir subjects,” I tell her. “Curiosity to learn why they did what they did, and the empathyto understand them, even when you haven’t necessarily agreed with their choices.”

“Yeah. That’s true.” She leans back against me and looks at the younger version of herself on screen. The girl she once was is laughing at something the guys are doing. “Maybe it’s time I do that for myself, too.”

EPILOGUE

AIDEN

Eight months later

It’s release weekend.

There’s a large banner featuring the book cover. It’s got a plain background and a black-and-white image of me. Embossed text below.Titan, Rising.The tagline is right beneath it.A story of an American media empire, and the man behind its future.

“This is torture,” I say.

The woman beside me laughs. She’s heard me complain for weeks in preparation for this day.

Her hand slides into mine. “One hour. Contractually, we have to be here for one hour.”

“I’m going to throw all the attention on you.”

Charlotte chuckles again. “No, you’re not.”

“For a release party, I think that’s pretty expected,” I say. I pull her in closer and press a kiss to her temple. “After all, this book wouldn’t have been a success without you.”

Vera Tran is standing by the drinks table, chatting with a few people. She sees us coming in and excuses herself.

I’ve heard a lot about Charlotte’s editor at Polar Publishing. Especially in the last few weeks, ever since Charlotte submitted the outline for her non-fiction book. They’ve chatted weekly about what to keep, what to change.

Vera is slating it along next year’s spring releases and wants to make Charlotte into one of their biggest debut authors.

“You both made it,” Vera says. “Come in, come in. A few of your guests are already here.”

I frown. “I didn’t put anyone on the list.”

But someone must have, because standing in the corner of the bookstore is my mother and Mandy. They’re chatting with Charlotte’s parents.

On the table between them is a stack of books. Ofmymemoir.

Charlotte chuckles as we walk up to our families.

I’m already groaning.

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