“Makes sense,” I say. “You’re a little young to have started your own company, no?”
“Says the thirty-year-old with seven novels under her belt.”
“Trust me, you’d be far from impressed if you knew my current situation.”
“What do you mean?” Liam asks. He seems like he genuinely cares.
I take a hefty spoonful of gelato and wish I never brought it up. “Nothing, I’m just having a hard time finishing off the book I’m working on.”
“Are you under deadline?”
“That I am,” I answer hopelessly.
“When is it?”
Tomorrow. A chilling wave surges through me but I don’t feel it like I should. I should be horrified. Desperate. But I’m not. I’m resigned. Disconnected.
“Soon,” I tell him.
Liam regards me with calm confidence. He has a solutions air about him—a quiet authority. I bet he’d flourish in a hostile work environment.
“What’s changed with this novel?” he asks. “Are you out of ideas or is there something else?”
“I think it’s a mixture of both.”
“I don’t know if this makes sense with writing, but something that always helps me when I’m feeling stuck or unfocused is to set myself up in the same situation I was in when I last had success.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this obviously applies more for when I’m coding than when I’m in corporate situations, but some of the best work I did was when I was in university. I’d be in my room, blasting music through my headphones, cut off from everything. So now, if I really need to get something done, I lock myself in my office, put on my headphones and blast the same angst-filled music I listened to when I was in school. I’m almost always able to finish what I need and the caliber of my work somehow improves.”
I eat another spoonful and consider Liam’s advice. “Name one angsty song that you loved.”
He smiles and says, “‘Disarm.’”
“Smashing Pumpkins?” I ask disbelievingly. He nods and I shake my head. “And you think you know a guy.”
“So, what situation are you in when you’re best able to write?”
My stomach drops as Ryan fills my brain, rolling through like a fog. He slips under doors and over walls and if I let him pour in like this, there will be no getting him out again. I focus on Liam’s eyes to distract myself. They’re ice-blue but still warm, like tropical beach water that you only see in pictures.
“My process is similar to yours,” I eventually say. “I’m alone and I listen to music but more light stuff. I have a playlist of all the scores from romantic movies.”
“Sounds sprightly.”
“Quite sprightly. Okay, next question. What made you come to Italy?”
“I’m here on holiday.”
“Yes, but you could have gone on holiday anywhere in the world. Why Italy?” I can tell Liam is uncomfortable but I let the question stand.
He stirs his vanilla gelato around a bit, looking off into the passing crowd before he says, “Sentimental reasons.” I’m about to dive in with a follow-up question but he beats me to the punch. “My turn. Why are you here alone?”
Because the person I was in love with is already engaged. Because I was so picky in my twenties that I tossed away good guys who deserved more of a chance than I gave them. Because I’d rather stay home with my books than go out into the world and feel like I don’t measure up.
“I just am. I haven’t stopped working since I graduated from college and it’s hard to find Mr. Right when you’re almost always encamped in your apartment, trying to meet a deadline.”
Liam seems to accept my answer, though I’m sure he knows there’s more there.
