“It does matter,” Jax said firmly. “You matter. Now, shower while I heat this up. You smell like a university student during finals week.”
Emery didn't argue, she didn’t have the energy. She shuffled to the bathroom, where the hot water did nothing to wash away the hollow feeling in her chest. When she emerged, wrapped in her oldest, softest dressing gown, Jax had cleared a space at the small table and set out plates of steaming food.
“Eat,” Jax said, pushing a fork into Emery's hand.
Emery took a bite, tasting nothing. “It's all my fault,” she said, the same words she'd repeated countless times over the past few days. “I ruined everything.”
“Yes, you messed up,” Jax agreed, not unkindly. “But torturing yourself won't fix anything.”
“You didn't see her face,” Emery said, setting down her fork. “The way she looked at me… like I was him. Like Charles.” Sheswallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“I know that,” Jax said. “But intention doesn't erase impact.”
Emery pushed her plate away. “I tried to tell her. That morning, before everything with Abe happened. I wrote it all down, put it in an envelope…” She shook her head. “Too little, too late.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“What would I say? 'Sorry I pretended to be someone else for weeks while falling in love with you'? 'Sorry I was writing a book inspired by you without telling you'?” Emery shook her head again. “There's no fixing this, Jax.”
A sharp knock at the door interrupted them.
“If that's Maya or Zara again, I'll scream,” Emery said, shrinking into her chair.
Jax went to the door, opening it just enough to see who was there. Emery heard Domi's distinctive voice and groaned.
“Is she alive in there?” Domi asked.
“Technically,” Jax replied.
“Let me in. I need to talk to her.”
Emery considered escaping to the bedroom, but Jax was already stepping aside. Domi swept in, impeccably dressed as always, a large manila envelope under her arm. Her red lips tightened when she saw Emery's disheveled state.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Thanks,” Emery muttered. “Always count on you for a confidence boost.”
Domi set the envelope on the table. “I've just come from a meeting with the publisher. They've read your manuscript.”
Emery's stomach clenched. She'd almost forgotten about the book, lost in her misery. “And?”
“And it's brilliant,” Domi said. “The best thing you've ever written, by far. The emotion, the depth, the vulnerability, it's all there.”
For a second, pride flickered in Emery's chest, then it died away. “Great. Glad my heartbreak made for compelling reading.”
“There's just one problem,” Domi continued, ignoring the sarcasm. “They're refusing to publish it as is.”
“What? Why?”
Domi sighed, as if explaining to a child. “Because it's a romance novel without a happy ending, darling. Your protagonists end up apart. The bookseller learns the writer's secret identity and kicks her out. The end.” She shook her head. “That's not what your readers expect. It's not what they pay for.”
Emery laughed hollowly. “Why not? That's real life, isn't it? Not everyone gets a happily ever after.”
“But that's precisely why people read romance novels,” Domi said. “For the guarantee that, no matter how difficult the journey, love prevails in the end.” She tapped the envelope. “The manuscript is extraordinary, Emery. But without an emotional resolution, it's unpublishable, at least as an Emerald Pearl novel.”
“Well, that's too bad,” Emery said, turning away.
Domi studied her for a long moment, then slid the envelope across the table. “I'm leaving this with you. Read it again. Remember why you started writing romance in the first place.” She moved toward the door. “You'll change your mind.”
