Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“Oooooooooh!” croons out a bro identified as ‘Terry.’ “This is Cordelia? Cordelia, hey! I’m Terry! I’m Steve’s best friend!”
A guy ID’d as ‘Luke’ takes umbrage. “Bro, what? We’re all best friends. You don’t get to claim Steve as your best friend.”
Terry shrugs it off. “Well, if we’re all best friends, isn’t it implicit that I am? I didn’t say you weren’t also. Chill, broski.”
“How the hell are you doing this?” Steve asks.
“What? You mean, how am I here?” I ask.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Gregory.”
“Gregory? The app?”
“Yeah, I made a wish.”
“I knew there was something creepy about that AI!”
“What?” all three of the other guys say at roughly the same time.
“An AI hacked you in?” asks Shawn.
“Like, a sentient AI?” Luke chimes in.
“Holy smokes! This is like a thing I’m working on!” Terry says.
“Guys, can you give us a little privacy, please?” Steve requests.
They all look into their own cameras like he’s crazy.
“Bro,” Terry says. “You’ve got like a million-and-a-half people watching you.”
“Yeah, okay. Well… can you at least mute yourselves?”
They do. They don’t turn off their cameras though, so I still see them watching, fascinated.
“Um… Hi,” Steve says after a second.
“Hi.” It’s a little awkward, but I press on. In for a penny… “How’ve, uh, how’ve you been?”
He laughs a little. “Ducky. Things are going great.” He shakes his head. “How about you? Seems like things actually are going pretty well over at Camp Lear.”
“They’ve been worse.” I smile too. “I, um… I’m sorry I never got your number, I—”
“Oh, God, don’t worry about it. I’ve had my hands full.”
“I figured that’s why you didn’t—”
“It’s the only reason I didn’t call.”
I’m not a huge blusher, but I feel myself blush. “Yeah. It’s the only reason I didn’t try to—”
“I know,” he interrupts. “It’s cool.” A beat before he says, “So, what are you doing here now?”
I take a breath. “Stop apologizing.”
“Cordy—”
“I’m serious, Steve. Don’t apologize to that woman. Don’t do it.”
Ding.
AUDREY: OMG! How are you doing this?
Ding.
GARY: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU ARE GOING TO RUIN YOUR CAREER BEFORE IT EVEN STARTS!
I ignore both texts and just stay focused on Steve. “I’m not kidding, Steve. Don’t keep on with this bullshit apology charade. The last person on the planet you need to apologize to is Leslie Munch.”
“Shhh. Cordy! Don’t—You shouldn’t say her—”
“Oh, please. Who cares? It’s not like a big secret that anyone couldn’t figure out. Just like you being SS wasn’t really a secret people couldn’t figure out. It’s not that it was that hard, it’s that people love the fantasy. They love the mystery. And, more than anything, people love the drama. That’s why they read romance in the first place. Because they know they can get all that heavy, juicy, messy stuff, but that no matter what kind of crap the people in the book go through, it’ll be okay because it’ll end in an HEA. A happily ever after. That’s the whole game. It gives us hope that there’s a point to all the shit we have to slog through in life and that if we just hang in there and believe, there’ll be somebody there to have our back when it’s all over. And Leslie’s trying to steal that. She’s breaking the essential first rule of romance. And I’ve dedicated my life to this genre and I’m not about to get her get away with it. People like Leslie think it’s their story. But it’s not. Not this one. This is your story, Steve. And you shouldn’t let someone else write it. Because you are one of the truest champions of romance I’ve ever seen. I know you didn’t set out to be, but you are. And, like it or not, it’s who you are.
“You encompass the very essence of what romance should be. Your purity of intent and your kindness and generosity is unlike that of anyone I’ve ever met. You’re not mired in the quicksand of cynicism and you don’t tread in lockstep with the shambling crowd. You forged your own steel and have climbed your own mountain, never before trod by anyone in quite the way it has been trod by you. You turned your seeming foibles into superpowers and your weaknesses into strengths. And you have done so while creating a generous, welcoming, safe place for those of like minds—though no minds are quite like yours—to have a community and a haven for play. Within the effulgence of writers who comprise the romance community, you are the spark that lit so many other flames and for that you should be celebrated and revered, not made mockery of and torn down by the angry, calcified, vituperative spirit of someone who’s too embedded in their own misery to feel your inherent joy.
“All of you watching, all of you out there right now who might be a part of that community, ask yourself: When has Steve Smith ever been anything but kind and generous? Can I remember a time when Steve Smith helped me? I will bet all that I have that the answer, to a person, is yes. I even watched Steve corral a roomful of people to help move Leslie Munch’s table at the Sin With Us convention just so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable. And, if you were there, you saw it too. It may seem like a small thing, but that’s what makes it special. Anyone can act upon the grand gesture and bask in the glow of its magnificence, but to do the pedestrian, everyday, mundane things, like take the time to encourage an up-and-coming author to believe in herself and trust her own voice… to not be afraid… to not care what other people think… that is an act of generosity. That is an act of love.