His laughter was loud in the quiet woods. “I feel like there’s a story there, and I definitely want to hear it, but right now I feel like we’re putting off you giving me really bad news.”
Kenzie smiled, nudging his arm with her elbow. “I don’t havereallybad news, but I should probably tell you up front I printed it out so I could write on it and I made atonof notes.”
He groaned, pretending to clutch his chest. “I know that was the entire point, but alsoouch.”
“To be fair, most of those notes are totally ignorable. I’m just a reader, and can you imagine if readers got to have input while you’re actually writing the book?” As soon as she said it, Kenzie’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, I guess youcanimagine it, since you don’t let anybody read it until it’s done.”
“It’s different with you.”
“Because I’m just a waitress?”
His head whipped around, his brow furrowed. “Of course not. One, there’s no such thing asjusta waitress, Kenzie. That’s not something you’ll ever hear from me. But also, it’s different with you because…it just works. You give such great insight and you’re a great problem-solving partner. The way you think clicks with the way I work, and I can’t explain it, but it’s not the same.”
“I enjoy talking about your work with you. It’s like a puzzle but some of the pieces are hidden and you have to fit other pieces together before they’re revealed.”
“Or you put the pieces together wrong and the entire thing burns into ash.”
“Your book isnotash. With the disclaimer I don’t know anything about plotting arcs or whatever they’re called, and I hated talking about themes and allegories and stuff in high school, I marked the spot where the heart went out of the story.” She shrugged. “I might not be able to explain it well, but it felt flat after that point. There was no…heart? Spark?”
“Like I was forcing a story that didn’t work just to put words on the page because I signed a legal contract saying I would?”
The weariness in his voice made her heart ache for him, but maybe as much as this conversation would be hard for him, it might help. “Exactly like that. But I also think I know why.”
He stopped walking, and she turned back to find him staring at her. “You do?”
With him looking at her so intently, something like imposter syndrome set in. Who was she to tell an author with Dan freakin’ Kowalski’s credentials that she knew what was wrong with his book?
“A multigenerational family saga is a big swing,” she said, because it was too late to back out now. “Lots of juicy secrets and conflicts, and it was engaging until you brought them all together on the coast of Maine because the family matriarch is on her deathbed and has something to say that’s going to blow up the family.”
He winced and resumed walking. “It was supposed to pick up steam from there, not lose it.”
“It would have, if you’d stayed true to the character. But you, Danny Kowalski, are writing about a toxic family, but when push came to shove, you chose not to lean in on your protagonist screwing over his brother becauseyouwouldn’t screw overyourbrother. His point of view became your point of view.”
Kenzie had gotten caught up in finally being able to share her thoughts, walking faster and gesturing with her hands, so it took her a second to realize Danny had stopped again.
She turned to find him standing motionless, staring at her with his brow furrowed.
Great. She’d made him mad. Or poked at a soft spot in his ego.
That hadn’t taken very long.
* * *
Months. FormonthsDanny had struggled to put words on the page, knowing his story was broken in some way he couldn’t see and hoping if he just kept pushing, the answer would come to him. That hadn’t worked.
In only a few days, Kenzie had nailed it.
“I could be wrong,” she said, and Danny realized he was silently scowling at her. “I mean, what do I know about writing a book?”
“No, you’re not wrong.” He stepped forward, reaching out to touch her arm because he didn’t like seeing that uncertainty on her face. “I was just in my head for a few seconds because what you said broke my brain.”
“In a good way?” She laughed. “You looked like you wanted to use me as research for a murder mystery for a few seconds there.”
“I’m sorry. When the book takes over my thoughts, I tend to lose track of what my face is doing.” He forced himself to drop his hand because awareness of the warmth of her skin under his touch was threatening to drive the plot problem right out of his head again. “Tell me more.”
They started walking again as she spoke. “Okay, the scene when Stephen’s father is belittling him for having moved away from the family and making a life of his own—you have Stephen about to spill his brother’s awful secret, and I was on the edge of my seat because that was going to changeeverything, but then…he didn’t. He chose to be loyal to a brother who didn’t deserve it. And I kept reading, thinking maybe you were just trying to increase the tension, but there wasn’t any tension. Stephen just chose not to.”
“But he left his family and struck out on his own so hewouldn’tbe like them.”
