Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“I understand that, but we’re closed for the season on those dates.”
“Ms. Hawthorne and Mr. Lemieux are willing to compensate you for the inconvenience.”
There was silence. Then, “I see. I’d have to discuss it with Mr. and Mrs. Blenheim.”
“Why don’t I email you regarding the compensation? You can share it with the Blenheims and get back to me.” I was pretty sure as soon as the Blenheims realized Darcy wanted to marry on their estate, they’d offer it up without asking for compensation, but Darcy authorized me to make the offer anyhow. The compensation offer was really just a way to get past the manager and talk directly to the owners, who were part of Darcy’s parents’ social circle.
“All right. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
We hung up, and Althea smirked. “Look at you, working your charm.”
“When Darcy Hawthorne wants a venue on a specific date, you do anything short of selling a kidney to make it happen.”
“Maybe even then,” we said in unison.
“Jinx.” I relaxed back in my seat as Althea took her usual spot on my desk. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking all morning about your Chris problem.”
“Is it a problem?”
“The look on your face says you’re either close to falling in love with him or you’re already there, so, yeah, that tells me it’s a problem.”
My cheeks grew hot, and I couldn’t quite meet her gaze.
“Mm-hmm.” She tapped the desk to get my attention. “Now this isn’t me trying to be a pain in the ass, but I really think you might need a distraction.”
“What kind of— You mean Derek?” I made a face.
“How do you do that? Am I that predictable?”
“You’re a broken record.” I stared at her, thinking about her doggedness with Michelle’s brother. I trusted my friend. “Do you really want to set me up with him when I have feelings for someone else? Because that sounds disastrous to me.”
“Confession: it turns out Derek, after dating a little, has decided that’s all he wants to do for a while—casual dating. He’s not ready for serious. And you’re not ready for serious, so I don’t see the harm in it. Maybe nothing will come of it, but maybe you’ll meet and hit it off.”
“Fine.” I decided on impulse.
Althea’s eyes popped out. “For real? You’ll go on a date with him?”
“Sure.” My stomach flipped at the thought. “I’m being bold these days and trying to do what’s best for me. If Chris has friend-zoned me, I think dating other people might help me get over him.”
“Friday night.” Althea jumped off my desk. “I’ll set it up. Something casual, like drinks. Dinner is too much pressure.” She wiggled her butt as she hurried across the room. “Oooh, this is exciting!”
I laughed. “Don’t get your hopes up!”
“Wear that ivory boyfriend sweater that looks like a dress on you.” Althea shot back. “It looks great with your hair, and you can match it with those gold strappy Jimmy Choos you bought last summer.”
“You pay way too much attention to my wardrobe, and I’ll wear what I want.”
“Okay, okay. But that outfit screams sexy casual.”
Dammit, I thought as she disappeared out of sight. She was right. That was a hot outfit.
TWENTY-SIX
Chris
Scott Rose
To: Christopher_ortiz@bmail.com
Hi Christopher,
I’m Scott Rose, President of Rose Literary Management here in New York. As you might know, your aunt Richelle and I are friends, and she reached out to me regarding a book you’re writing about your life and your much-publicized space mission with NASA. I have to say I’m fascinated to know more and would love to read what you’ve written so far. If you’re interested, you can contact me at the number at the bottom of this email so we can discuss it a little further.
All best,
Scott
I pondered my options. Aunt Richelle hadn’t gone behind my back to do this. We’d talked about it, but I hadn’t been sure Scott Rose would be interested. He owned one of the biggest literary agencies in New York with a West Coast division in Los Angeles. My whole life, I’d never felt uncertain of the work I’d done. Sure, the first time I went on a space walk I was half-terrified something might go wrong, but I was equipped with the knowledge to decrease the chances of that happening.
Writing this book was as far outside my comfort zone as I could get. Mostly because I’d never considered myself a writer.
There was a huge chance that Scott Rose would think what I’d written was a piece of shit.
If I’d had more time to finish it, to play around with it more, be certain of it to some extent, I wouldn’t feel so apprehensive about sending Scott the partial manuscript. I talked openly in the book about my disconnection from the Latinx community and the desire to explore ways to connect—how I’d felt an uncomfortable mix of honor in being a leader for the Mexican community while struggling with the idea that I wasn’t worthy of their pride in me because I hadn’t been raised to embrace my culture. That was as vulnerable as it got, and I was, at heart, a very private person. So maybe that feeling of apprehension would always be there regarding this book.