Page 50 of Overdue

AUSTEN

I can’t help the silly grin on my face. It’s been plastered there since leaving Reed standing in front of my house. This time, he said everything just right.

It’s like I’m in a dream where the hero sweeps me away. If the hero is usually covered in dirt, says the most ridiculous things, and makes me want to tear his clothes off every time I see him.

That mounting list of books isn’t going to take care of itself. But, I need to squeal at someone, and the most logical person is Eliot. I wait until Reed has gone for sure, then jump in my car. I’m still grinning when I pull out of the driveway.

Eliot’s office is only a short distance from the library, around the corner. I park against the curb, making sure I’m tucked away from Reed’s gaze. It would be hard to explain why I shooed him away, only to show up down here.

My sister works on the second floor of the old bank building. The bank built a new building in the sixties and leases this one out to small businesses like Eliot’s. There’s an elevator, but I chose to sprint up the stairs instead.

I’m winded by the time I reach her office. Checking that she’s alone, I fling open her door and slump in one of her client chairs. She doesn’t even flinch. I try to wait patiently while she finishes crunching whatever numbers she’s crunching. Finally, with a sigh, she looks up from her computer.

“What’s got you in a tizzy?” she asks.

“I’m moving in with Reed,” I blurt out. Her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. “I know, it’s really fast.”

“Or really slow. I can’t decide. What spurred this on?”

“Jennie signed the house over to him. She’s moving into Shady Acres.”

“Isn’t that a pet cemetery?”

“Right?! No, it’s the senior center in Fredericksburg. Anyway, he asked me to move in. Well, at first, he suggested I work off the rent in sexual favors. Then he apologized and said he just wants me to move in.”

I just thought Eliot’s eyebrows rose before. Now, they’ve basically disappeared into her hair.

“Wait, let me get this straight. He wanted you to work off the rent on your knees?”

“Yeah, but I stomped out of lunch. He came to the house to apologize and say he loves me. We made out right in front of everyone.”

Eliot does some sort of jolt like she’s been struck by lightning. “I’m not sure I want to know anymore,” she says.

“Do you think it’ll work without us killing each other?”

“I think if anyone can make it work, it’s you and Reed. Just please put something on the door when the make-up sex starts, so we don’t walk into a surprise.” Mmm, make-up sex. That sounds amazing.

“Deal,” I agree.

eighteen

AUSTEN

It feels like I’ve been writing on this book forever. I’ve agonized over every word. Is it long enough, too long? What if the names don’t work? I can’t exactly use Austen and Reed. I’m going with Jane and Ross. Not very original, but I can’t think of anything I like better. Besides, Rachel and Ross were already taken.

I’m currently reading it for what feels like the two-hundredth time. Every time, though, I manage to find mistakes. I was told by someone once that, at some point, you just have to stop. It’ll never be perfect.

Just a little more, then I can send it to my old agent. Hopefully, she’ll take me back. I was very careful to not burn that bridge when I gave up. All I’m asking is that she read just one more thing.

It takes half the day to polish my proposal. I’ve rewritten my synopsis half a dozen times. Is it good enough? I would love to run it by someone, but I don’t have the courage. All of my writer friends have moved on, or I ghosted them and they gave up. Eliot would be well meaning, but she knows nothing about this. I’m on my own this time.

My finger hovers over the “send” button. I take a deep breath and press down on the key. Fingers crossed. My email swooshes away, and I sit staring at the screen.

It seems a little anticlimactic. Something about sending things electronically takes the personal side out of it. It would have felt more substantial if I had to walk into the post office and slide a letter into the slot. Oh well.

I close my laptop. Now, the waiting game begins. If I can get Alicia on board, I’ll just have to wait while she pitches it around. I can’t dwell on that right now, however. Whatever happens, I still have to be at work in half an hour.

I finish dressing and head downstairs. Mom is standing by the door with her messenger bag.

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