The following weekend, Klein’s mother has us over for dinner. Eden and Oliver are there, and Eden swears she knew we were going to develop into something real. “I saw the way he looked at you, and I knew my brother was done for.”
Under my breath, I say to her, “Next we’ll work on that soccer coach.”
“He posted a video of bridge lifts. Do you know what those are?”
“I’m picturing hip thrusting.”
She nods, slowly and with lips pushed out. “It was almost pornographic.”
“That’s disgusting,” Klein complains as he kisses the side of my head.
“Get over it. I read every one of your social media posts since your account was created. I’ve liked, shared, commented, printed them out and glued them to my car, the whole nine.”
I burst out laughing. Eden grins.
“I appreciate the support,” Klein says dryly. “Let’s hope the interested publisher is at least a fraction as enthusiastic.”
CHAPTER 47
Paisley
Three monthsof Cecily managing KleinTheWriter, and Dom calls.
“It worked. They want a meeting,” he says, voice rising in volume and tone. “Am I on speaker?”
“Yes,” I answer, glancing at the glowing phone screen on Klein’s coffee table. Klein sits on the couch, silent. He appears to be in a trance.
“Paisley, tell Cecily I want to take her out for a drink when I’m in town next week. She should be in on the celebration.”
I give Klein a look and wiggle my eyebrows. No response. “Dom, Klein might be catatonic at the moment.”
“Perfect time to remind him to pay up. He lost our bet and still owes me a hundred dollars.”
I eye Klein, who’s at least blinking now.
“Bet?” I ask.
“Before he left for the island he said you guys weren’t going to be anything but friends.” Dom laughs. “Wrong.”
Still nothing from Klein. If anything was going to kick him in gear, it should be his cousin demanding his due.
“Klein’s going to have to call you when he finds his voice, Dom.”
We hang up, and I crawl onto Klein’s lap.
“Klein?” My fingertips graze his shoulders. “Are you alive?”
“They want a meeting,” he says, coming to life. “A meeting. It worked.” His voice goes from breathless to a shout.
I gasp as he stands up suddenly, spinning me around. “You beautiful, incredible, intelligent woman.” He has one hand locked around my waist, the other tenderly cupping my head. “You believed in me. Without reading the book, you believed in me.”
I read the book soon after we returned from the island, but that’s not what he means. He’s referring to how we launched a marketing campaign, book unread.
Running my knuckles over his cheeks, I say, “I remembered how talented you were in college. I knew you’d only become better since.”
For the record, his book was incredible. I never saw the plot twist coming.
Against my lips, he says, “You are my favorite story. The best I’ve ever heard, and the best I’ll ever tell.”
