I told you you’d need a drink by the time The Ward was through with you,” Reeti said. “How bad was it?”
The pub was packed with people off from work or out to dinner, the air thick with the smell of grease and beer. The cheerful noise of music and conversation wrapped our table in a bubble of privacy.
“Bad.” I took a sip of Guinness. The chosen drink of Ireland puckered my mouth. Like I’d made a mistake in ordering it. In being here at all. “She had his book. Grayson Kettering’s. She showed it to me.”
“What book?”
“Destiny Gayle.”
“So?”
Maybe I should pretend that everything was okay. That I was okay. I didn’t want to watch the sympathy fade from Reeti’s face, replaced by contempt. I wasn’t running away, I told myself. I hadn’t slunk off to my hotel room to lick my wounds and search the Internet for scraps about Gray’s bestseller rank and upcoming movie. I was out for dinner in a real Irish pub, drinking a realIrish Guinness. Trying new things. Making a new friend.Take that, Dr.Ward.
Except...A clean slate.
A fresh start.
Weren’t friends supposed to tell each other things?
I swallowed. “That’s my name. I’m Dee Gale.”
Reeti’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. I mean, the name... That’s a weird coincidence, sure. But Grayson Kettering... He’s kind of a big deal, isn’t he? I mean, it’s not like he wrote a book about you.”
“Actually...” I rubbed the wet ring from my glass on the tabletop. Forced myself to go on. The worst that could happen... It had already happened, right? What did I have to lose by being honest? Other than Reeti’s respect. “He did. At least... He based her on me. His character, Destiny. We... We knew each other at the University of Kansas.”
“Wow.” Reeti sat back. “So you’re, like, famous.”
I grimaced into my glass, afraid to look at her. “Me and Hester Prynne.”
She laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Have you read it? The book?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s sort of a Pygmalion story.” That’s how Gray had described it whenever I asked him what he was working on. “An engrossing—if occasionally sordid—exploration of creativity and obsession,” according to theTimesreview.“About a young female graduate student who moves in with a professor in her writing program and basically ruins his life until he escapes her sexual thrall.”
“Whoa.” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait. You lived with him?”
I lowered my gaze. “Not me. Destiny. In the book.” Gray had always been protective of his privacy. Careful about appearances.
Toni knew there was someone. She’d even met Gray when shecame to visit me on campus. Aunt Em suspected we were involved. But I’d never told anyone how serious we had been. I had been.
“He gave me a key,” I said.
So I could pick up his dry cleaning and drop off his groceries and water his plants. And every time I’d let myself into his house, I’d felt a little thrill that he trusted me in his space. Another bitter swallow.
“Fucker.”
I looked up, shocked and warmed by her immediate defense.
“He was your professor,” she said. “You should have reported him to your university.”
“I wasn’t in any of his classes.” He’d been careful about that, too, I realized. “Anyway, I loved him. We were together for two years.”
“Loved,” Reeti repeated. “Past tense?”
“Y-y-yes.” Anything else would be too pathetic.
