Page 60 of Wine and Research
What did it mean for her and Jeremy?
He’s going to hate me…
She closed her eyes, and tears streamed down her face. It was surreal. It wasn’t fair. Things like this only happened in her books.
But it was real.
And it sucked.
Elle tried to inhale, but her tight chest wouldn’t allow a deep breath. She took a few short ones and talked herself out of being sick.
It was no time to panic or fall apart. She needed to think. What should she do?
The world would eventually know about her brother and the special man who’d sacrificed his life for him, and that he was the reason she created the series. It was all in her dedication. Of course, she’d have to revise it to name the correct officer.
That was months off, though. Her release date was set to coincide with the twenty-fifth anniversary of her brother’s death…and Officer Mercer’s, too.
Elle had some time before the book would be published in November. She was blessed to have a great editing team as well as a lenient publisher. Normally, finished works were handed in a good year in advance of release dates.
The dedication was easy to fix.
But what about things with Jeremy?
Her chest tightened again. She honestly had no idea how he would take the news. Elle only knew she had to tell him. And soon.
The sound of a car door slamming had her heart lurching.
But not this soon.
Dammit. She should’ve left.
Maybe it was just a solicitor or something. She waited, barely breathing, hoping to hear a knock but heard the front door opening, instead.
“Elle? Where are you?” Jeremy called out.
She opened her mouth but nothing happened, so she swallowed and tried again. “Den.”
“I’m glad you’re still here. I felt bad about my meager breakfast fixings,” he said, striding into the room, carrying a white bag. “So I grabbed you a cinnamon bun when I stopped for my…Elle?” Frowning, he dropped the bag on an end table, then rushed over to squat in front of her and gently grasped her hand. “What’s wrong?”
Only everything.
She hiccupped then shook her head as her stupid throat heated again.
“Was someone here? Did they hurt you?” he asked, glancing around frantically.
She squeezed his hand, and when his gaze returned to hers, she shook her head again. “No. It’s just…life.”
She chickened out. Idiot.
And that explanation wasn’t true. Her life the past several weeks had been wonderful.
His frown deepened. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
Good lead in. She needed to take it, but God, she didn’t want to.
He deserved to know.
With that in mind, Elle straightened her spine and lifted her free hand to point to the article on the wall.
