Page 53 of Happy After All

I feel bad because I am. But only a little bad. Because if Reigna only knew ...

“It’s a wonderful idea,” she says. “Though ... what if he wasin conversationwith Christopher?”

I nearly die right there on the spot. “I ... I don’t know about that. As far as I know, Christopher Weaver isn’t really associated with writing.”

“He’s in the entertainment industry,” she says.

“Amelia is a writer,” Nathan says. “I’d be happy to do an in conversation with her, but it makes the most sense for me to be talking to another author.”

All eyes in the room turn to me. I can’t even be irritated that he’s outed me—it’s not like it’s a huge secret, and it would be churlish of me when I dragged him here.

“It’s true. I am.”

“Published?” Reigna asks, looking intrigued.

“Yes,” I say.

“What do you write?” This comes from Bob.

“Romance novels,” I say.

That gets a mixed bag of reactions from the crowd.

“Not under your name,” Linda Calhoun says from the back. “Or I’d have seen it.”

“I’m Belle Adams,” I say.

“I’ve read you!” Linda says, much to my shock, though she seems to be the only person in the room who has.

“I think that’s fantastic,” says Sylvia. “It’s a different kind of event and offers even broader appeal. We just need to rent another canopy and some more chairs, and there will be space right near the enchanted tree forest.”

“I don’t know,” Reigna says. “It seems like Christopher should at least moderate.”

I can think of nothing more horrendous. This is for Rancho Encanto and not me, though. Plus, it seems like no matter what I try, I’m getting myself more and more tangled up in the Christopher of it all.

“If he agrees to it,” says Sylvia, “then he can moderate. But Mr. Coulter is right. It makes the most sense to have him in conversation with another author.”

“All right,” says Reigna. “I’ll contact him immediately. Then we can update the website.”

I haven’t agreed to that at all, but I can’t think of any reason that isn’t the truth that I could possibly have for not wanting Christopher to moderate, so I say nothing.

“Excellent,” says Sylvia. “We have two more weeks of ticket sales before the event, and we’ll still sell tickets at the door. This is shaping up fantastically.”

The rest of the meeting goes as scheduled, but afterward, I have to practically untangle Nathan’s adoring fans from him. I’m very careful to not use his real name. By the time we get out of there and start heading back to the motel, I’m overwhelmed, and in awe of him.

“Thank you,” I say.

He looks at me from the passenger seat. “Yeah. No problem.”

Except I get the sense that it kind of is a problem, and he did it anyway. Itdoessomething to me. I just don’t know how to process all these emotions. Because ...

“I cannot believe that Christopher might moderate. That’s like my actual nightmare.”

“That does suck.”

I laugh, because for some reason it seems like an uncharacteristic thing for him to say. I’m not sure that I should have an opinion on what’s characteristic and not for him.

“I can have my agent call and say I don’t want him to.”

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