“Then what is? Explain it to me like I’m five. Explain all of this like I’m five.”
“Your last book sold sixty percent fewer copies than the one before it. The preorders for the one that releases in two days that we’re about to go on tour for are in the toilet. People are comparing you to Nicholas Sparks, and not in a good way. In thehe’s not a real romance writerway.The New York Timescalled it the career suicide of the century. If you don’t turn this around you’re going to end up with nothing, and far sooner than you think.”
“And you somehow think the idea of having nothing bothers me.”
He said the words just as the waitress bustled by and set his plate down. Just as she’d said, too—two slices of dry brown toast, and three mounds of hard-cooked egg whites. Too unappetizing for her to avoid curling her nose up, or sayingI would sooner diewhen the waitress asked her if she wanted some, too.
Or, at least, she went to say it.
Only he got there first.
“She’ll take the full breakfast platter, Marlena, ketchup on the side, with a pot of English breakfast tea as strong as you can get. Stronger than that, even. It should look like you can stand your spoon up in it,” he said, without even looking up from his meager plate. He just plowed through his own meal as the words spilled out, fork in his right hand as usual, using the side of it to cut his food, then shoveling it in.
Though she couldn’t linger on that. She was too busy being taken aback at his words, and then sure she wanted to say no, and then finally and blessedly it started to dawn on her. She saw it clearly, as the waitress gave him a “Sure thing, hon” and swept away: this was how to get him. This was how to do it.
With his sense of responsibility.
Because sure, he was happy to starve.
But apparently he couldn’t stand to see his mortal enemy do the same. And that gave her a way in. “I know having nothing barely bothers you,” she said, carefully, carefully. So careful in fact that he didn’t even look up. He was chomping away when she made her first attempt. “But you know, it’ll probably bother the people who rely on you. Your cleaner. Your cook. Your personal shopper.”
“There is no way in hell you think I have any of those.”
“Why? Because we once knew each other ten years ago?”
“No, because you have eyes in your goddamn head. And brain enough to identify what they’re seeing. More than brain enough. You once figured out that I don’t drink because I had a soda at a party that wasn’t providing any. I know damn well that you’re observant enough to understand how I live my life, just by what I’m wearing.” He flicked his gaze up to her. “Go on. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Now you’re listening, she thought.Gotcha.
“The shirt is old, no fabric softener, it’s not the right look. Therefore no stylist, no cleaner, no personal shopper.”
“There we go. Spoken like a true pro. Hell, youareone now.”
“I’m not Miss Marple. I problem-solve and assist celebrities for a living, Miller.”
“Yeah, and how do you think you do that so well? Do they tell you what they’re currently fucking up? Are they real forthcoming about their secret drug problems that mean they can’t show up for a meeting with somebody important?”
“I’ve only had one client with a secret substance abuse problem.”
He made a scoffing sound. “You goddamn liar, Emmett.”
“Fine, it was more like five.”
“Bet they were all a real blast.”
“Better than this. Begging you to care about other people.”
That twisted the knife, she could tell. He disguised it by setting his fork down in the center of the plate and pushing the plate away. But it was there, because there was food still on that surface. And if there was one thing he hated, it was waste.
Most likely he would finish it, after she’d gone.
Hell, if she left anything on her own plate, he’d choke that down, too.
Not that she was going to, because dear god, when it came it looked like heaven. Marlena set it down and she couldn’t even focus on the fact that he had ordered out of contempt for her life skills, and was most likely going to be horrified by her horrible table manners.
He answered as she fell on it like someone half starved.
“We’ve just established there are no other people for me to care about,” he said. Eyes on her all wary and disgusted, as she suspected. But she didn’t care. She bit into what looked like a whole pork chop, and almost cried. She had to have three more chomps before she could drag things back to the point.
