“She’s worried that you’re deeply depressed, and if you don’t get help, you might do something drastic.”
Instantly, my cheeks burn and my eyes prick with humiliation, but I draw on my considerable store of anger to bring my emotions in check. I force an icy smile. “Well, that is not going to happen. That’s ridiculous.”
“Prove it.”
“What?”
“Prove. It.” She’s playing hardball literary agent Lauren Duncan.
“Fine.” I huff and fold my arms across my chest. “For starters, I’m too lazy to kill myself. Do you know how much work that would be?”
Oh, that was appalling. My gut clenches at my words, but since she’s now the one gaping, I continue, even though I wish I could stop. “I’d have to figure out what to wear, what to do with Walt, and then there’s the whole letter thing. I can’t even begin to imagine how many drafts I’d need. I’m a writer, so the last thing I write had better be spot-on perfect.” I shake my head and give a careless little shrug. “That all sounds like way too much work. Plus, I wouldn’t find out howA Handmaid’s Taleends.” I give her a ‘see, I told you’ look.
Lauren snorts then laughs. “Oh my God, you’re terrible.”
“You probably shouldn’t say things like that. I’m in a very delicate state,” I say, fighting a smile.
“Abby, stop it,” she says, covering her smile with both hands. “It’s not funny. This is very serious.”
I sigh. “Tell her my sense of humor is intact, so you take that as a solid indicator that there’s no need to worry.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “How can I be sure you aren’t just trying to throw me off?”
Giving myself a moment to think, I stare at the ceiling before answering. “Because I haven’t done it yet. If I were going to do it, it would have been months ago, when I couldn’t stop crying for more than a five-minute stretch. Not now, when I’m comfortably numb.”
“See, when you say it that way, it doesn’t exactly sound reassuring.”
My shoulders drop. “I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.”
The kettle whistles and I turn to the stove. When I finish filling the pot, I take it over to the island and set it down. “Look, I’m just taking a little time out from life right now. It’s all good, though, I promise. I’ll be venturing out into the world soon enough.”
“Starting when?”
“I don’t know. Soon.” I cross the room and take two mugs out of the cupboard. “Next Wednesday at three fifteen p.m. Eastern Standard Time.” I turn back to her with an impish grin that I hope will work.
She doesn’t return my smile. “I’m holding you to that. You’re on notice, Abigail Carson.”
“Okay, boss lady.” My tone suggests that she really doesn’t have control over me, even though deep down I’m a little scared of her and she knows it.
Her face softens as her eyes pass over my fleece frog-print robe. “Not today, but when you’re ready, I need to talk to you about your contract with Titan.”
My stomach tightens. Even though I knew this was coming, I was hoping it would be longer in getting here. “I’m pretty sure I already know what you’re going to say. When do they want the advance back?”
She sighs and says, “This can wait.”
“I can tell by the look on your face that it can’t. How long do I have?”
“Thirty days to start making installments unless you can come up with the entire forty-five thousand at once. Or maybe…” She pauses and gives me a hopeful yet terrified look. “You managed to write an entire novel without mentioning it?”
Thirty days. My entire body goes numb and I want to sink into the couch and pull a blanket over my head. Instead, I give her a confident nod. “No problem. I can write them a check.” I think.
“They’ve been at me for almost six months now, and I’ve held them off as long as I could,” Lauren says. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to...” My voice is barely audible, even in my own ears.
“Erica said that when you start writing again, she’ll look at anything you do. Of course, they want you to finish the Duchess series, but if that’s too hard right now and you want to write something else, they’ll read it. She said to tell you she’s sorry, but accounting is on her ass about it.”
I stare out the window for a moment as I let this information sink in. “The thing is, Lauren, it’s kind of hard to write lighthearted historical romance when nothing is remotely funny anymore, and after you figure out there is no such thing as happily ever after.”
