Page 25 of The Rom-Commers

“Thanks so much,” I ventured then, “for saving me from the mountain lions.”

“Not a problem.”

“I really am so sorry about all of this.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s Logan’s fault.”

“It must have been so weird for you to see me standing at your front door with my suitcases.”

“You have no idea.”

“Logan just called me out of the blue and said he had a job for me.”

“Right?” Charlie said, likeWhat a douche.

“He’s found me lots of jobs in the past, so it didn’t seem all that weird. But it did seem… too good to be true.”

Charlie nodded in solidarity.

“But I trusted him,” I went on. “I took the summer off from my job. I left my family. I put everything else that mattered on hold, and I packed up my life and flew out here. With no idea that you had no idea.”

Charlie shook his head at the situation, like he really got it.

“Youaremy favorite writer, though,” I said next. “Logan wasn’t lying about that. I love you more than Richard Curtis, and Elaine May, and Billy Wilder. I love you more”—and this felt so sacrilegious, like I might be smote by lightning at the words, but I had to make my point—“than Nora Ephron.”

Charlie held kind of still.

Too much?

Then he gave a small, mechanical nod that read likeGot it.

No doubt my cue to stop talking.

But I just had to know. I had to confirm. I decided toproceed as ifand see where that got me. “So I just want to thank you. For this opportunity. It’s not easy to change your mind. Especially not in the heat of a crazy moment. But I need to say that this is the hugest of huge deals to me.” And then, realizing it might sound cheesy but unable to find any better words to capture my sincerity, I concluded with “I will do this work with my whole heart and soul.”

I snuck a look at him.

He was frowning.

“What work?” Charlie asked.

“The rewrite?” I said.

At those words, Charlie positively detonated with laughter—the kind ofpahyou make when you are very surprised by something unspeakably ridiculous. Then he followed thepahwith hooting, and chuckling, and slapping his hand on the door of the truck.

This went on for a while.

It was bitter laughter, I decided as he went on—but laughter all the same.

Anyway. I guess I had my answer.

“The rewrite?” Charlie kept saying. “The rewrite?”

I wasn’t laughing myself, needless to say. “Logan told me you’d agreed to everything,” I said. “He said you’d said, ‘Fine. Fuck it. She can have the guest room.’ Heshowed me the text!”

Like I might prove him wrong.

Charlie took a few deep breaths as he worked to settle. “I did say you could have the guest room. For one night. Before you fly home tomorrow.”

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