Page 16 of The Loves We Lost
“When is this thing done?” he asks. I notice he’s wearing rings. Several of them. Not quite knuckle dusters but enough to know they’d do damage to someone’s face.
“Four. Then I have to pack everything up. I could meet you somewhere later.”
Miles raises an eyebrow. “And give you time to run away? Not a fucking chance. In fact, tell that bitch to move and give me the chair next to you.”
“Thatbitchis my agent, Louise. And I’ll do no such thing. If you want to put me under surveillance all day, you can stand.”
I shrug out of his grasp, pick up my things, and head to my table.
“Everything okay?” Louise asks.
I take a deep breath and try to bite back the sting of unexpected tears. “Do I look like a mess?”
Louise turns my chair a little so it’s not facing my readers. “You look a little pale. More shocked than anything else.”
“I knew him once. Wanted to reminisce. I told him he’d have to wait.”
Louise runs her eyes up and down him. “Yeah, because he totally looks like a patient man.”
“He was once. Now I don’t know who he is. But you know him as Fortune.”
My agent’s jaw almost hits my signing table. “Oh, shit. That’s how you got so many of the details right?”
“Indeed.”
“I wish you’d told me. I would totally have pitched it to a publisher with that angle and gotten you a better deal.”
“So mercenary.”
Louise chuckles. “Anyway, let’s get this signing going, shall we?”
I take a moment to properly greet my line ambassador and give her a little gift to say thanks for keeping my queue in order and for ensuring everyone writes their name on a square sticky note. It’s my worst nightmare that I write it wrong in a book they already paid for. Then I’d have to give them a new one for free, and these signings don’t generally make me any money.
When I look up, Miles has moved closer to my table. He’s flicking throughFortune’s Loss, Fortune’s story, and worse, he’s cracking the spine of a book I hoped to sell.
“They cost money to buy, Miles. I’d prefer it if you don’t ruin them.”
He eyes me for a second, then places the book down on the table before reaching into his pocket. Carefully, he unrolls two fifty-dollar bills from a fat roll and tosses them down on the table.
“Keep the change,” he says.
“Fine.” I’ll put it in Avery’s piggy bank for a rainy day.
He leans back against the wall next to my large banner and sadly is more attractive than the shirtless man I had printed on to it. He kicks one boot up against the wall and flicks through the book until he appears to find his page.
“Game face,” Louise whispers.
On autopilot, I sit up straighter and reapply my smile. “Hey,” I say, welcoming the first person in my line, a young woman in a pale blue-and-white striped dress. “How are you doing this morning?”
“Oh my god. Vi. You’re my unicorn. I’ve been reading your books since my mom was sick in the hospital. You kept me company through some really rough moments, so I just wanted to say thank you and see if you’d sign this?” She offers me a well-flicked-through copy ofWilder’s Gain, the book before Fortune’s.
“Of course.” I flip through to my signing page. Her name note saysEloise.
“How’s your mom doing now?” I ask.
“She’s on a cruise with my dad. So all good.”
“That’s great to hear. What’s your all-time favorite five-star read?”
