Page 107 of We Met Like This
“I don’t know. I told him to piss off.”
“You did?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Just ignore him. You know how he is.”
“Yes, I know exactly how he is. I’m glad you finally see it too. Hey, I can’t talk. I’m literally on my way into a short film showing but I love you and whatever you are going to tell me I really want to hear later.”
“It will keep,” I said. I hung up kind of relieved I didn’t actually tell her about the book I was reading or the amazing sex I’d had. I got to keep it for myself a little longer, and that made it feel all the more special.
I settled back into the book, and after thirty minutes or so of reading, the progress bar at the bottom of my screen said I was seventy-five percent done.
You love this book, just make an offer.
The thought came to me in my own voice. It was time tostart trusting that voice, even if she did lead with her emotions. If the last twenty-five percent of the book fell apart, we could make it better.
I got out of bed and pulled on one of the hotel robes. I didn’t need to make my first offer in the buff, although that could’ve been a funny memory to pull up in the future. I brushed my teeth because that seemed important too. Oliver must’ve cleaned up the mess we’d made the night before because there was no longer toothpaste on the floor or countertops. Then I opened the curtains and sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. My entire body stilled as I listened, my breath, my movements, my heart even, it seemed.
“Hello,” came the tentative voice of Marissa through the phone.
“Hi, Marissa. It’s Margot Hart.”
“Hi. Hi!” she said. “How are you, Ms. Hart?”
“I’m great. I’m almost done with your book and I couldn’t help myself, I needed to call. It’s brilliant.”
“You like it?” she asked.
“I love it. I can think of several editors who would love it too.”
“You can?” she asked.
“Absolutely. I’d love to represent you.”
“I… That’s… That’s awesome.” Her words came out haltingly, but I could tell it was from excitement, not hesitation.
“I’d take you out to about six to eight editors to start and see what their feedback was. If we needed a second round, we’d go out to six or eight more.” I loathed Rob with all my heart,but he had given me a good script to work with over the years. I felt comfortable talking to authors and editors. “What do you think about that plan?”
“It sounds great. Can I have some time to think and let the other agents who have my manuscript know I have an offer?”
This wasn’t an out-of-the-ordinary request. It was pretty standard, actually. “Of course. How much time do you need?”
“A week? Is that okay?”
“Yes. I’ll keep my fingers crossed. I love this book and would be honored to work with you.” Arms wrapped around me from behind and I jumped, nearly letting out a yelp. I settled back against Oliver’s chest.
“Thank you, Ms. Hart. I really appreciate your interest,” Marissa said. “I’m excited.”
“Me too. I look forward to hearing from you.”
We disconnected the call.
“You scared me,” I said, looking out at our view, which was mainly a parking lot. But in the distance was a vineyard, uniform rows of vines lining the side of a hill, the sun blasting them with light.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me come in.”
