“And are you?”
I find myself nodding without a moment of hesitation, because yes, I’ve been serious about him since the first time I saw him on my screen. “I really like him. He gets me, and supports me, and has shown how all-in he is with our relationship. I...” I lower my voice because for some reason I don’t want him to hear. “I don’t want to lose him.”
Joyce takes a second to consider, like she’s trying to draw a verdict on whether he gets hanged or not. “Have you told him that you have a Pinterest board with engagement rings you like?”
I bark a laugh. “Not yet, but I’ll add it to my to-do list.”
The next smile she gives me is sobering. It makes my heart flip-flop over itself. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me with so much pride like that.
“No, for real, though. I’m happy that you’ve found someone and that your book is doing so well. You deserve it. Congrats on a killer release, bitch.”
Even though neither of us likes physical contact, I reach out to give her hand a quick squeeze. “Thank you.”
“I mean it.” She gives me an earnest nod. “I’m gonna head out. Ben’s working from home, so I’m gonna do my stuff there. Text me if you need anything.” She shoulders her bag and heads for the door, shooting me a glare before she steps out. “You better save me some fucking cake.”
“I will.” I chuckle as she shuts the door behind her.
I’m grinning like a fool, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I think I might love this man. This obsession I have with him isn’t normal—never was—but to know that it’s reciprocated?
I just need to bite the bullet and tell Mom that my relationship with Leo is happening, and she can either be supportive of it or show herself out the door. I dislike that it’s taken a man to get me to this place with her, but it’s better now than never.
Chewing my bottom lip, I debate whether to, I guess, tease to the public that we’re in a relationship. The post on his account of him holding my hand comes to mind, and that decides it.
I snap a picture of the gift from Leo then upload it to my author socials, captioning it: “Turns out real-life book boyfriends do exist.”
For the hell of it, I send the post to him with a side-eye emoji. I intend to show my gratitude in person as well.
Grinning to myself, I practically skip up to the cake and snag some frosting. Buttercream. How did he know it’s my favorite?
It’d probably be rude if I ate it without him, right? Yes, I should probably wait.
Too overwhelmed to eat breakfast—or, I guess, lunch since it’s already midday—I take some more pictures and spend an embarrassing amount of time cataloging everything he’s done and all the thought he’s put into it.
Once I’m satisfied, I run back to my room and hide beneath the blankets, too scared to check my notifications. If I see one negative comment or message, I might tip over the edge. I want to hold on to this happy feeling for as long as possible.
My solution to this? Binge-watching.
It does wonders to dissociate me from the sounds my phone is making. Every time it vibrates, a voice at the back of my head tells me it’s Mom or my blackmailer, and I’m even more afraid to look. I don’t dare to pick it up until I see an email notification come through.
ThatI can handle.
Or, at least, I thought I could. My eyes scan over the paragraphs from a random reader, and my stomach sinks further with each sentence.
That can’t be true.
I click into Google and type one of my unannounced projects into the search bar. Right there, underlined in bold, is a PDFaccess to it. I search another unrevealed title, and it’s right there—books I no longer have copies of since he stole my laptop.
Then, I search upKnight’s Bane, and like the reader warned in their email, the downloadable copy of my first draft is the top result. It’s the unedited version littered with typos, plot holes, and inconsistencies.
This is an author’s worst fucking nightmare.
Oh, God.
I clutch my phone to try to lessen the tremors raking down my arms. What do I do? How do I get it down? What does this mean for my career?
Through my bleary vision, I manage to send a text to the piece of shit intent on ruining my life.
Mina: I gave you money. You agreed you wouldn’t go public with anything. Please take those books down.
