“Ah.” A pause. “This is about more than the book, isn't it?”
“It's about everything.” I run a hand through my hair, probably making it worse. “I bought her building without telling her. I solved her problems without asking if she wanted them solved. I wrote our story and was planning to announce it to the world without ever asking if she was okay with that. I'm a walking disaster of good intentions and terrible execution.”
“Okay. Okay.” Rodney takes a breath. “Here's what we're going to do. We're going to take a beat, not make any decisions today. The reveal event is in—what, four days? We have time. We can postpone?—”
“I'm not postponing. I'm canceling.”
“Scott—”
“The cover reveal is canceled. The preorder campaign is canceled. And I need you to tell the publisher to shelve the book indefinitely.”
“Indefinitely.” Rodney's voice is flat. “You want me to tell them to shelve the best manuscript you've written in ten years. Indefinitely.”
“Yes.”
“They're going to be furious.”
“I know.”
“This could damage your relationship with them permanently.”
“I know.”
“You might not get another deal.”
“I get that.”
“Scott.” Rodney sounds genuinely distressed now. “This book is your comeback. It's everything you've been working toward. You finally found your voice again, wrote something honest. And you want to throw that away?”
“I'm not throwing it away. I'm just...not publishing it. Not like this. Not without her consent.”
“Then get her consent! Talk to her! Don't just?—”
“She doesn't want to talk to me. She made that very clear.” I think about her face on the beach. The betrayal in her eyes. The way she backed away from me like I was dangerous. “I hurt her, Rodney, by trying to help her without asking if she wanted help. And publishing this book would just be more of the same.”
Rodney is quiet for a long moment.
“You really love her,” he finally says. “This woman the book is about.”
“Yes.”
“And you're willing to torpedo your career for her.”
“I am.”
“Even though she's not speaking to you.”
“Especially because of that.” I stare out the window at the harbor. The same view I've looked at for years without really seeing it. “If I can't give her the relationship she deserves, I can at least give her this. I can stop making decisions about her life without her input. I can respect her privacy. I can... I can be the kind of person who asks instead of acts.”
“By not asking her about the book?”
“She told me to leave her alone. The least I can do is listen.”
Another long pause. Then Rodney sighs—the sigh of a man who knows he's lost an argument.
“I'll call the publisher,” he says. “But I'm not telling them it's permanent. I'm telling them we need to delay indefinitely while you work through some personal issues.”
“That's fine.”
