He let out a little gasp. “Deception!”
“I know.”
She looked at him, as if asking for permission for this thing she had already done, and he nodded so that she’d go on.
“And anyway, Édouard got us into the building—”
“It’s those eyes.”
“Or the extreme confidence. Anyway, they let us meet with Shreya—”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, Shreya, and this awful lawyer man, and then I told them who I was and what we had done. I slid a copy of the manuscript across the table like I was a businessperson making an offer in a movie, and I reminded them of Helen’s rabid fan base, and I suggested that to take this project away from her husband in direct violation of her wishes was pretty bad optics. I remembered you mentioning in passing that the will put you in control of her social media accounts, so I threw that in as a threat.”
Whit nodded, clearly impressed and maybe a little bit awed.
“AndthenI told them that I had Ian Hoult fromThe Atlanticready to write a piece if they didn’t listen—”
“Sorry, youwhat?”
Whit froze. Merritt grinned.
“That’s a pretty huge bluff, Merritt.”
“It wasn’t a bluff. Ian told me he’d do it.”
Whit’s hand flew to the top of his head.
“How did you get him to—”
“I gave him an interview. About Graydon and his book, but I made him promise to help me with this if I needed it. The article hasn’t run yet, but it will.”
Whit dragged his hand down his face, as if trying to wake himself up.
“You did all that—for me?”
Merritt laughed.
“No, Whit. I did it for both of us. And just for me, too, if that makes sense. I gave Ian the interview in the first place because I realized I didn’t want to let Graydon be the only one telling my story. And anyway, the truth is pretty damning for him. But I made it a condition of my cooperation that Ian let me drop his name as one of my intimidation tactics, and anyway, Whit, what I’m trying to say is that itworked. I scared them, and they have agreed to read your version. Our version.”
“Oh, Merritt,” Whit said, looking into the fire. A stab of doubt hit her chest.
“I hope that’s okay,” she said quickly. “Maybe it was overstepping, but I couldn’t bear the thought of our work meaning nothing and of them giving it all away to some random person. That’s not what Helen wanted, and—”
Whit reached out to place a hand on her elbow. A log split in the fireplace as a charge crackled up her arm.
“No, Merritt,” he said. “That’s not what I meant. I mean...thank you. You’re right. We have made a wonderful thing together, and they will love it. Theywillpublish it.”
The sharpness in Merritt’s chest and stomach dissolved.
“You really think so?”
“I know it.” He shrugged and let his fingers travel the length of her arm before taking her hand in both of his. “I get the books now. I get them in a way I never did before. All anyone wants from this story is to see how far the characters will go for each other. It’s all about the things we do for the people we love, and we figured that out. It took me a while, but I figured it out, too. Really, what else can you ask for?”
“I can’t believe you thought I moved to New York,” Merritt said as they walked in Kathleen’s neighborhood. After they both agreed that Merritt’s mother could not possibly stay at Peggy’s house past 10:30 and that they’d rather not be home when she returned, Merritt had found Whit a knit cap and one of her dad’s old coats.
Now they walked the slick streets, and Whit kept one bare hand in his coat pocket, and one wrapped around Merritt’s gloved fingers.
