Page 47 of Final Proposal

“For the record, you don’t owe me any explanation.”

“I know I don’t.”

Just like he didn’t offer me one today either.

“Do you think there’s any leftover Chex Mix behind the counter?”

I laugh. I don’t know why the comment strikes me so funny, but it does. “It’s probably stale.”

“And full of pretzels.”

“The horror.” I mock shiver.

“There’s that smile of yours,” he says, pulling me to look directly at him for the first time since he sat down. “It’s about time it showed up.”

Our gazes hold as my heart begins to race. I’m grateful for the glass of wine so that my hands have something to do besides fidget, because that confession just cost me in ways I’m not even sure I understand yet.

“I’m just tired is all.”

“Exhausted.” He groans and runs a hand through his hair. “And they’ll start bright and early at seven in the morning.”

“Ten whole hours from now.” My shoulders sag.

“You’re the one who wanted an accelerated schedule.”

“We. We are the ones who wanted that,” I correct.

“I think we weren’t comprehending how exhausting it would be.” His groan turns into a chuckle.

“No rest for the weary, Sharpe. Even if it’s us who are the weary.”

Ford

“And things are going good with the Snaggletooth?” Ledger asks.

“Yes. Fine. We’re feeling our way around each other.”

“Does that mean there’s trouble in paradise?”

“No. Not at all.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.”

“I don’t need to convince anyone of anything.”

“Huh.”

“What the hell does that mean, Ledge? I’m tired and not in the mood for bullshit.”

His chuckle reverberates through the connection. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been on the ground level. It’s a lot of work.”

“It is. Is that why you’re calling? To razz me, or is there something else?”

“You haven’t R.S.V.P.’d yet.”

“And you know this how?”

“The publisher called. They asked that we all be there.”