“Let’sgo!” I cheered and pumped my fist. “I knew it! This is perfect; now the student is the master.”
“Excuse me?”
“You coached me—now it’s my turn to do it for you.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
I slammed my prosecco glass down on the dock beside me. “You have donesomuch to help me on my pickleball journey; the least I can do is support you as you try something new that I happen to know a thing or two about.”
“That’s the issue here; I don’t try. Ido,” he said, refocusing on the navy horizon. “Once I start something, failure isn’t an option.”
It sounded more like conviction than bragging.
“That’s the best attitude because publishing will break you if you let it.”
He glanced over at me. “Are you broken?”
My heart expanded at the concern in his voice.
“A little . . . yeah. My debut novel didn’t get picked up, andthat hurt like hell. Total crisis of confidence, hence the ghostwriting.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Now I get it. I was wondering why you don’t publish under your own name. Will that change?”
I smiled involuntarily at the thought ofArcher. “I’m working on it.”
“Good. You deserve to have your name on the cover.”
I could tell that the conversation was about to shift to my muse hunt, and I didn’t want to discuss Kai with him anymore.
I glanced over my shoulder at the party raging on behind us. “I heard the fireworks show is going to be ridiculous. Colton said they shipped a bunch over from Italy.”
“Yeah, it’s going to sound like a battle zone soon. Glad Marti’s back in the city with her dog walker; she hates noise.”
“Same, Marti, same,” I agreed. I sighed and looked back at the crowd. “I should probably get back there. I’m feeling antisocial.”
I slid my phone out of my pocket to check the time and placed it on the dock beside me.
“Yeah, Calliope awaits,” Owen said.
We shared a moment of silence, because once we walked back, we’d get swept up into the madness, and there was a good chance we wouldn’t connect again.
Which bummed me out a little.
I leaned over to grab my prosecco flute but misjudged the distance, accidentally knocking it off the dock and into the water with the world’s tiniest splash.
“Well, shit!”
I switched to my knees and leaned off the dock to try to grab it.
“Leave it,” Owen said. “I’m sure no one will miss it.”
“But it’srightthere,” I said. I gripped the post next to me and stretched out my arm to where the glass was still bobbing along the surface.
“Brooke, seriously, it’s a catering glass that probably cost—”
I didn’t hear his estimate as I fell headfirst into the bay.
Chapter Twenty-Six
