“What about the photographers? Doesn’t it feel invasive?” I asked.
“It does. But nothing we can’t handle.” He turned his gaze to Hunter. “What’s your opinion?”
“I think this whole thing’s absurd,” Hunter said. “Your mother’s a great writer. She sells a ton of books for her publisher. She has a huge following. This shouldn’t even be on the table. But since it is, maybe we think about how we use it to our advantage. Dana’s book’s upending all of our lives. This could be something good that comes out of it.”
“I don’t want them anywhere near Tyler,” I said.
“Mom, they’re not going to take photos of me. There’s that law in place now. Haven’t you noticed all the stickers on famous people’s kids’ faces?”
“It covers harassment by paparazzi,” I said. “Not photos arranged by my own publisher with my consent. Which I’m not giving them, but what if they don’t care and send them anyway? One of the reasons I live in Willet Cove is to give you a safe and carefree childhood. This just feels wrong.”
“Okay, then, we don’t do it,” Tyler said.
“I could agree to an interview or two,” I said. “Maybe that would keep them happy.”
“If that feels all right?” Hunter asked.
“I think so. Truth is, I need Hawthorne on my side. This is my career we’re talking about.”
“Send the vampire lady an email, so it’s in writing,” Hunter said.
“Right. I’ll do it now,” I said. “While you guys have your lesson.”
“Should we use the living room?” Tyler asked.
I nodded absently, then went to my office. While I sat at my desk, thinking about what to say, I heard the strumming of guitars from the living room. With that as my background, I typed a quick email to Brooke and copied Sylvia.
Hi Brooke,
I’m following up on our conversation from earlier and wanted to reiterate that I will not agree to photographs at any of my son’s events. However, I’ll consider one interview, preferably print rather than video.
A few conditions: I’ll need approval of the publication and the journalist. I won’t discuss my son beyond confirming he exists. And I’ll need to see any quotes attributed to me before the piece runs.
If these terms work for Hawthorne, I’m happy to discuss next steps. If they don’t, I understand.
Best,
Seraphina
I read it twice, then hit send before I could soften the tone. Afterward, I opened my current manuscript and wrote for thirty minutes. When I heard the lesson ending, I saved my work and headed out of my office and into the kitchen.
Hunter was starting the dishwasher while Tyler wiped down the counter. For a moment, I just stood, watching them. How was it possible that Hunter’s presence in our lives seemed so natural? So right?
“Done?” Hunter asked.
“Done.”
“How do you feel?”
I considered the question. The knot in my chest had loosened slightly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t completely gone, but I could breathe a little easier. “At least they know where I stand.”
“That’s good,” Hunter said.
Tyler hung the dish towel on the oven handle. “Ice cream?”
“Ice cream,” I agreed. “It won’t solve all our problems, but it’s hard to remember what they are when strawberry ice cream’s melting on your tongue.”
They both laughed. For a moment everything was just fine.
