Page 19 of My Ex-Best Friend's Wedding

“Oh, please call me Dee.” She smiles with pleasure.

I’m having trouble holding on to my smile. And my thoughts. I need time and space to figure out how to explain things to Lauren. And then I need to sit down with her while she and Spencer are here. Once she and I have hashed this out then the three of us could get together and... This is where the scenario falls apart. On the one hand I want... I have to believe that Lauren will understand that I was trying to protect her. On the other... I force myself to meet his eyes. Is a good outcome for all three of us even possible?

“I’ll be back Sunday,” Jake continues.

“Oh well. I...” I glance down at the bag I’m clutching to my chest as if it were a shield.

Although he’s already given me his cell number, Jake steps forward and hands me a business card. “This has all my contact information. I look forward to meeting her.” His voice is polite but steely. Then he nods and turns to go back to the dining room, and I realize that he’s issued a command not a request.

Ten

Lauren

New York City

The closer our trip home gets, the more nervous I become and the crazier I get. I just can’t seem to focus on anything, including the book I’m writing. Which is not good because every day I don’t meet my page count I feel that much more out of whack. Writing a novel isn’t like cramming for a final exam—you can’t just sit down the night before it’s due and bang out a hundred thousand–plus words, though I do know a few writers who’ve tried.

For me, writing a minimum number of pages every day is critical. It’s like exercising a muscle. As anyone who’s joined a gym in January only to stop going in February knows, the more days you don’t exercise the harder it is to start again.

Addressing the page on a daily basis also helps you burrow all the way into your characters’ heads, which is key. A book that can’t be put down doesn’t come from a mind that is leaping from thought to thought like a frog across lily pads. It comes from tunneling deep inside your characters’ heads and staying there—or at least knowing how to find your way back in each day when you sit down to work.

Today is Monday, April first. We leave for North Carolina in four days and at the moment I’m leaping lily pads at the speedof sound. I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for almost an hour now without actually touching the keyboard when my phone rings. Normally my phone stays off until I’ve finished the day’s pages, but there’s nothing normal about me, or my life, right now. The number belongs to my editor, Melissa Sanchez, which gives me a semi-legitimate reason to pick up.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

“No, not at all. I was just taking a break.” A long one. I stand and move toward the window to stare down at the people striding up the sidewalk.

“I have some exciting news,” she says, diving right in.

“Okay. Exciting’s good.” At least a certain percentage of the time.

“Sales and marketing have come up with the most wonderful idea.” Melissa pauses. “We want to publish a fifteenth-anniversary edition ofSandcastle Sunrise!”

I have no idea what I was expecting but it wasn’t this.

“Genius, right?” She sounds genuinely excited, but I can also hear how hard she’s selling it. “We think this is the perfect time to remind everyone who you are and how beloved your books have been. And what better way than with the book that started it all?”

I try not to notice that she’s using the past tense, but as bad as losing part of my audience seemed, the idea that another part of that audience has “forgotten” who I am feels even worse.

“And we thought we’d release it immediately before your wedding. Your engagement’s been all over the entertainment news and your sales have had a serious uptick. Even the anthology’s moving. It will give your fans something special and introduce your first big book to a whole new batch of readers.”

It doesn’t happen often, but I am actually speechless at the impact of our engagement on my book sales.

“Publicity is already fielding requests for you and Spencer to appear together on the morning shows.Peoplemagazine is talkingabout giving you two the cover.” She takes a breath, possibly the first one since I picked up the phone. “Whenisthe wedding?”

“We haven’t picked a date yet.”

“Well, we’ll need time to redo the cover, design the new edition, and do serious marketing and publicity outreach. June of next year would be perfect.”

I remain silent. I’m relieved my numbers are improving, but I hate the idea of using our wedding, which should be a personal and intimate life event, as a sales and marketing tool, and I’m not sure whether I’m more afraid Spencer will feel the same way I do or that he won’t. It’s not as if we’ve ever talked about what kind of wedding we’d have. Or have some date that’s so special to us we’d want to get married on it.

Clearly we’re going to have to start figuring out the details. But right now all I care about is making sure Spencer and my mother hit it off and surviving any encounters with Bree. I also need to find out why my mother was so adamant that we come there. So far I’ve imagined worst-case scenarios that include bankruptcy and a brain tumor—and I’ve made it through only the first two letters of the alphabet.

“Obviously you’ll need to talk to Chris Wolfe about the anniversary edition,” I finally say, turning my back on the window. “Spencer and I are going to visit my mother, and I’m sure we’ll reach some decisions about the wedding while we’re there.”

“Of course.” Melissa’s tone turns apologetic. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a little ahead of myself. It’s just that everyone’s thrilled about your engagement—congratulations again! When do you head down?”

“Friday morning.”

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