Page 129 of We Met Like This
Audrey:Maggie, I’m sorry. I realized I never said that. But I am. And I am a judgmental bitch. Please answer my calls.
Margot,
I adore Kari Cross and if she writes another romance, please send it my way. But horror is not my specialty or interest. I’m going to pass…
Rob:I’m consulting a lawyer. It’s not too late to make this right.
Hey Margot,
We’d love for you to come to our romance con. Please see attached itinerary and let us know if the proposed panels work for you.
Margot,
I like to keep my horror acquisitions pure. I don’t think I can get behind something so convoluted. Thanks for thinking of me…
Kari:Rob’s an ass, he has no ground to stand on. Please don’t worry about any threats he might make. Just focus on selling my book.
Ms. Hart,
Attached is the full manuscript of my rom-com you requested. I hope you love it and look forward to hearing from you soon…
Oliver:Margot, I know you aren’t speaking to me, but when you get clients, if you want me to add them to your website, let me know. I didn’t teach you how to change things. I should’ve taught you how to change things. I should’ve done so many things. I’m sorry… Also, I miss you.
Margot,
We love Kari Cross, we don’t love this idea…
“Shit,” I said as I read the most recent rejection in my inbox. “I can’t fail.” I was home alone, talking to nobody, yet still felt the need to say it out loud.
I had actually gotten dressed that morning, in a pair of slacks and a blouse. Work clothes. Because even though my apartment was too small to have a dedicated office space, Oliver had been right, I needed something to mark my work hours from the rest of my day. Otherwise it all blended together in a big continuous stream of time.
Speaking of Oliver, I’d read the text he sent that morning at least a dozen times. Soaking in each sentence, analyzing every word choice, second-guessing every meaning.When you get clients, he’d said. When. He believed in me. And yet I didn’t respond. At this point, I wasn’t even sure what I was waiting for. Maybe I was waiting for my brain to turn off and my feelings to take over. Something I wasn’t used to. And the fact that it wasn’t happening worried me more than anything.
CHAPTER 39
I sat up in my bed with a gasp. I had been scrolling the apps again. Rejection after rejection. Face after face. It had become my habit before drifting off to sleep every night. My new mind-numbing ritual. A ritual that tonight I was jolted out of with the face I’d been waiting for. Oliver’s.
It didn’t surprise me that as I stared at him, took in his kind eyes, great hair, and heart-melting smile that tears came to my eyes. I missed him so much. This was the sign I was waiting for. The jump start to my emotions. Did I force the sign? Maybe. But still, the universe provided.
I bit my lip nervously, thinking about what my first message to him should be.Fancy meeting you here? So we meet again? We have to stop meeting like this?They all seemed too basic or too flippant. I needed to be sincere. Something like:I miss you. I’m ready to hear you out.
It would be a full-circle moment. We met on the apps, we remet on the apps over and over, and now we’d make up on the apps. Our meet-cute.
I smiled and swiped right.
Nothing happened. Nomatchedmessage appeared on my screen. Maybe I’d come across his profile first and now just had to wait for his acceptance. Or maybe he swiped left, rejected me.
It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that he could’ve decided it was too weird to date the sister of an ex. That all he wanted to explain was why he’d lied about it, because he was a nice guy and couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t, and then he’d go on his way. The fact that he was still on the apps at all was messing with my head. Had he never gotten off? How many women was he chatting with?
Maybe this was the real sign from the universe. And it was telling me to let him go.
Two people were in line in front of me at the coffee shop Monday when my phone rang. Sloane and Cheryl were supposed to meet me here on an early lunch break, so I pulled out my phone, thinking they were going to tell me why they were running late. The name on my screen stopped me cold.
“Hello, this is Margot,” I answered, doing the best I could to sound professional in the middle of a coffee shop.
“Hi, Margot, it’s James Rosen.” Only one of the very best editors of horror around.
“Hi, James. How are you?”
