Page 31 of Austen Persuaded

“Sorry, guys. Wedding stuff isn’t really my thing,” I admitted. When they looked at me with brows furrowed, I held up my hands. “What? Just because I’m a woman, I’m supposed to love weddings and be all about wedding planning?”

They sighed, and Rafael said, “Fair enough.”

“So whatareyou guys leaning toward as of now?”

Joel grinned at Rafael and then at me. “Let’s make it a surprise for now, eh, love?”

“That suggests eloping, but that would be too obvious. So I’ve narrowed it down tonoteloping.”

Rafael narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting we’re predictable in our unpredictableness?”

I smirked. “Something like that. Hey, we’re going to order dessert, right? Because you know that’s why I’m here.”

“Meanwhile, she’s just regular old ‘predictable,’” Rafael said to Joel, tongue in cheek. “Only Annie can turn any discussion into a conversation about dessert in a matter of seconds, all while looking likethat.” He gestured toward my figure, reclining against the chair.

It was true—I could eat anything and stay slim. Society’s idea of an ideal figure, slender with the hint of an hourglass shape, was one of the few things I’d been lucky to inherit from Jacqueline. My mother also liked to point to our lush red hair, sea-green eyes, heart-shaped faces, well-formed lips, and fashion sense—as silly as it sounded—as if they were accomplishments. As if we’d done anything to deserve them. Of course, I knew that it all meant essentially nothing. My body wasn’t better than anyone else’s, despite what society said. Sometimes, it even made me feel strangely inferior, though I never bothered to analyze why. My socially approved beauty had opened doors, but I had learned it meant little in the grand scheme of things.

“Well, I, for one, can’t eat another bite,” Joel said.

Rafael leaned in for a dramatic whisper. “He actually means it.”

I smiled. As we waited for the server to bring the dessert menu, my thoughts returned to my situation. What did I want in life? At least, career-wise?

Why was it so hard to figure out? After we placed our dessert orders, I stared out the window at the blustery spring day, trying to envision what my ideal life would be. At first the vision was … empty. Then hazy. Then …

“Books.”

“What?” I turned to see Joel looking at me.

The crease between my brows deepened. “What?”

Joel studied me with an amused expression. “You were staring into space and then said ‘books’ out of nowhere.”

“Quite decisively, I might add.” Rafael eyed me curiously.

I pressed my lips together. “I said that aloud? Oh—” And then the server arrived, and all words escaped me as my eyes lit upon the strawberry shortcake that Rafael and I were going to share. “I can see why you wanted to share, Raf. This is massive.”

We both dipped our dessert spoons into the cake and then sighed in unison. When our spoons nearly collided for the second bite, Joel smiled, shaking his head with mirth. “Watching you two eat dessert is almost better than actually eating it.”

After several more bites, Rafael slowed down. “So, Annie, did you have some kind of revelation about books?”

I set my spoon down reluctantly. “I’m not sure. Maybe this will sound silly. No, it definitely will—”

“Say it,” Rafael said, rolling his eyes.

“I was asking myself, what do I want to do with my life? I know, deep stuff for a casual lunch,” I said with a half-smile. “And then I thought, something to do with books. That’s all … that’s as far as I got, before I apparently blurted it out to you guys.”

“You’ve always been better with talking things out loud rather than doing the internal debates, girl.”

“That’s true.” I was an extrovert through and through. Most of the time, I’d much rather talk about things than think about them. And I’d been stuck in my head far too much lately. “I don’t mean editing dull nonfiction books like I’ve been doing since college. I mean, well, actually … I don’t know. Like, I have no idea. But not what I did before.”

Joel looked thoughtful. “Books … hmm. What about writing books? Novels? Are you interested in that?”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think I’d have the patience. I love to read books, but I don’t think I could write them. I could maybe edit fiction, but I’m sort of leaning toward moving away from editing at the moment. Or at least taking a break from it.”

“Maybe you could be a professional book reviewer,” Rafael offered. “Is that a thing?”

“It is a thing, but it’s not an entry-level thing. People have usually built up respected literary careers first before their opinion can be trusted as a professional reviewer. Well, at least the good ones.” I took a long drink of my iced tea. “I probably need something entry level.” When Rafael made a face, I added, “It’s fine, I’m only twenty-six. I don’t mind starting over.”

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