“More than I've ever loved anything. More than my career. More than being V. Langley.” Another pause. “More than being right.”
“And you're just going to let her go? Not fight for her?”
“She asked me to leave her alone. And for once in my life, I'm going to respect what someone else wants instead of deciding I know better.”
I'm crying. I didn't notice when it started, but tears are streaming down my face.
“I'll call the publisher,” Rodney says quietly. “Tell them the book is shelved indefinitely.”
“Thank you.”
“For the record, I think you're making a mistake.”
“Maybe. But it's mine to make.”
The call ends. I hear Scott exhale—a long, exhausted sound.
I should knock. Should announce myself. Should do something other than stand here crying outside his door.
But my body has other plans.
I lean forward to wipe my eyes, and my foot catches on the hallway rug—one of approximately three decorative items in this entire sterile apartment—and suddenly I'm falling.
I grab for the door handle to catch myself.
The handle turns, the door flies open, and I tumble directly into Scott Avery's writing office, landing in a graceless heap at his feet.
“Jessica?”
He's standing there, phone still in hand, staring down at me like I'm a hallucination. He looks terrible—with dark circles under his eyes.
He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
“Hi,” I manage from the floor.
“Did you just—were you?—”
“Eavesdropping? Yes. Falling through your door? Also yes. Having any dignity whatsoever?” I struggle to sit up. “Apparently not.”
He doesn't move. Just stares at me with an expression I can't read.
“How long were you out there?”
“Long enough.” I finally get to my feet, brushing off my knees. “I was waiting in your living room—which, by the way, feels like a hospital designed by someone who hates joy—and I got up to find the bathroom and I heard you say my name and I just...” I gesture helplessly. “I couldn't walk away.”
His jaw tightens. “You weren't supposed to hear that.”
“I know. But I did.” I take a breath. “You're pulling the book? Your best work? Because of what I said on the beach?”
“Because of what I did. You were right. I keep making decisions about your life without asking you. The building, thebook, all of it.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Pulling it is the only thing I can do that actually respects your wishes.”
“Scott—”
“You asked me to leave you alone. So I am. Even if it means—” He stops. Swallows. “Even if it means losing the best thing I've ever written.”
He almost smiles. Almost. Then his face goes serious again.
“Why are you here, Jessica?”
