Page 13 of Devoted

Hey! Sorry I wasn’t around today. It’s been crazy.

Zeke

No worries! Did an author need you to run to their aid at a signing or something like that?

I flinched, grateful for the screen between us. As a romance reader, I wouldloveto go to a signing. There were lots all over the world, and I’d been invited as an assistant by several of my authors. There were just too many obstacles in my way. I’d need to know everything about the event—the itinerary, the venue, where the toilets were. On top of that, I’d need detailed instructions as to what my author needed from me and what I was expected to do. It wasn’t that I couldn’t think on my feet, but the anxiety surrounding not knowing what was required was huge. Finally, there were the crowds and noise to consider. How could I assist when I wasn’t even certain if I’d be able to cope staying in the room?

I couldn’t admit any of that to my clients, so instead I always politely declined, citing a schedule clash. I liked to think that one day I’d be comfortable attending.

There were lots of things I’d love to be comfortable with, one day. I wished they didn’t seem so unobtainable.

Sam

Not today

I gave Zeke the full rundown of my day, and with each message I typed, the stress I’d been carrying lessened a little more. When was the last time I’d had the chance to do something as simple as rant about my shitty day to someone else?

I genuinely couldn’t remember.

Sam

To top it off, I had to cart fifty book boxes to the post office. Guess when I had to do it

Zeke

oh, shit. Don’t tell me you did it during the rain?

That’s right, earlier that afternoon, London had been the centre of a torrential storm. It had hit suddenly. I’d say it was without warning, but no doubt it’d been on the news and my weather app. Needless to say, I hadn’t had time to eat, let alone check the weather.

Sam

yep. thankfully the boxes were packed in waterproof mailing bags. Sadly, I was not

Zeke

now I’m picturing you in a waterproof mailing bag

My laughter echoed around the room.

Sam

must be difficult, given you don’t know what I look like.

Was I hinting at him to ask me for a description? Or maybe even a picture?

I bit my lip, tense as I waited for his response. When it came through, I was a confusing mixture of disappointed and relieved.

Zeke

that’s the beauty of the mailing bag—if it’s over your head, I don’t need to know what you look like

it’s a shame I don’t know where you live though. I totally would’ve come and helped you

Help. The concept was foreign to me. It was something I did for others, not what people did for me.

Zeke

I’m not hinting for your address by the way

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