Page 74 of We Can Do
Leaving the coffee till later, I sit back down and open her email. Apparently, she has more notes that she wants me to incorporate in this round of edits.
But it’s not that at all. It’s a message telling me that the rewrites I send her tomorrow will be the last part of the book she edits for me, followed by a list of personally recommended editors.
That’s it. There’s nothing more other than a formal sign off. No explanation. Nothing personal at all.
And why should there be? This is what things have come to between us. We might as well be strangers.
Slumping back in my office chair, I stare at the computer screen. I want to be angry with her, but that’s impossible because this is all my fault. I did this. I ruined her chance at her dream job. Ruined our relationship.
“Fuck.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, trying to shut out the world.
This book was supposed to be a major launching point for both of us, and now I don’t even care about it anymore. Who gives a fuck if it even gets published? Without Alexis, it’s lost its spark. No random editor could bring that back.
Just like no other woman could bring that spark to the rest of my life. It has to be Alexis. She’s the only woman I want to work on my book with, that I want to laugh with, that I want to wake up with.
Opening my eyes, I notice something I didn’t before. A link at the bottom of her email. Clicking it, I find a review of Rye Again. It’s similar to the draft she showed me a few weeks ago, glowing and full of praise, but with some tweaks. And the by-line credits another writer.
My stomach lurches. What the hell? Why would she…
Of course.She wants to avoid any more backlash.
It’s a smart move, but she shouldn’t have to do it. Not after she worked so hard on the review—and, even after I broke up with her, kept her opinion positive.
She’s too damn nice to me, and maybe it’s best that we broke up after all. I don’t deserve her one bit.
A knock brings my attention to the open door, where Lawrence stands. “Hey.”
“Hey. What are you still doing here?”
“I left and came back.” He crosses the office and opens the blinds. To my shock, it’s dark out. “You know what time it is?”
“Uh… Seven?”
“Seven?” His eyebrows rise. “It’s not even dark out at seven. It’s nine thirty.”
“What?” I gasp, whipping my neck to look at the wall clock.
“If you’re gonna start living down here, I suggest you at least consider eating. Come on. I used the day’s leftover dough to make calzones.” He leaves the office without waiting for my response.
I stand and follow, surprised at how much my hands are shaking. Alexis's email has me steadily unwinding, all of my choices that once seemed so solid now scattering in the wind. I’m trying to locate all the points where I could have done something different, where I could have made a choice that would have saved both my career and my relationship, but nothing comes to mind. I’ve fucked up, and yet I don’t know where I was supposed to have done things different.
“Hope you like pepperoni.” Lawrence leads me into the dining room, where two huge calzones wait on one of the tables. It reminds me of the Italian night I set up for Alexis—how stupid and silly it was, and yet she still appreciated it—and I almost crack.
More collapsing than sitting onto one of the chairs, I stare at the calzone and beer in front of me. “Looks good. Thank you.”
Metal scrapes against ceramic as Lawrence cuts into his dinner. “You talked to Alexis at all?”
“She sent me an email.” The words are sawdust in my mouth. Other than sharing a brief summary of the breakup, I haven’t talked to Lawrence about her.
“An email about what?”
“She’s quitting the book. She sent me some recommendations for other editors.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “How do you feel about that?”
“Shitty.” I blink at him. “Everything has gotten so mixed up. You really were right after all. Especially with her last review… she was just trying to help, and it all blew up. I pushed her away and I don’t know—maybe I shouldn’t have done that. But what was I supposed to do? I can’t…”
Running out of steam, I drop my head forward into my hands.
