Page 84 of Meet Me Back Here

“Sorry we went over again today,” I say when I reach him. “You could have come inside.”

He quickly kisses me. “I did watch from back here for a bit,” he says as he guides us out of the building. “You look like you’re right in your element.”

“I like it, a lot,” I admit. “But it’s temporary. And that’s ok. I should be writing.”

I tell him about some of the stories the students have been sharing until we get back to the room.

“Do you want me to take a walk while you have your call?” Forrest asks once we step inside.

“Thank you, but no. I think this is going to go well, and we can get dinner after,” I say as I open my laptop at the small table in the living room.

Forrest kisses the top of my head before heading to the bedroom, closing both of the connecting doors to give me some privacy.

My agent, Lori, hops onto our video call right on time, smiling brightly when she sees me.

“Hi Lor!” I say with a wave.

“Good evening, Mia. Please tell me you have good news for me,” she says, folding her hands together in prayer. “I’ve been holding the hand of a very anxious editor this month.”

“The best news. You can tell Grace I said so when you talk to her,” I say, scooting closer to the screen. And I dive into telling her about my new romance and the political scandal, giving it a Romeo and Juliet forbidden love tension. I admit to my writer’s block and fess up to the excuses I’ve been feeding her for months, but I end by telling her how quickly this newest story has been coming out, and how excited I am for it.

I’m so excited, seeing my characters and their story more than the room around me, that I don’t realize her smile has melted until I finish. Dread settles heavy and solid in my chest when I do.

“Mia. Cam…” she says before opening and closing her mouth a few times. I see her flipping pages, and I know she’s looking at her planner. It’s her lifeline. “I’m so excited that you’re excited about this, and I really do love the idea, but Grace is waiting for another traditional thriller from you. That’s what’s laid out in your contract for the third book.”

I feel lightheaded with how quickly the blood drains from my face. But maybe she just doesn’t understand.

“This story has significant thriller elements, with the political power of the main characters’ parents and the lengths those families are willing to stoop to to destroy the other,” I start, but Lori just keeps shaking her head.

Why is she shaking her head.

“I am on your side,” she starts, probably seeing some level of panic on my face. “I know and trust your writing abilities, and I’m just as excited for this story as you are, but there’s no denying it isn’t what you and your publisher agreed to. It’s first and foremost a romance. It won’t do either of us any good for me to sugarcoat this, so I need you to understand that we likely face an uphill battle convincing Grace this is the book she wants. Even if we do, it’s possible the imprint won’t have the right connections or resources to market it properly.” Lori is very convincing when she says she’s on my side, but the truth of what she’s explaining about the book’s future still hits hard.

“I—” I don’t know what to say.

“I need you to trust me now. Send me what you have. Give me time to read it and fight for you,” she says, her face soft, kind. “And I promise I will fight for you, but you need to give me a little time to do that. Keep writing in the meantime, because if Grace says yes, I expect she still wants that draft by the new year. Don’t give up hope. Let me do what I do best, but try to consider other options if this doesn’t work.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario?” I ask, not wanting to know, but needing to.

“If you don’t deliver what was agreed to, it would be breach, and you may need to return advances. I’ll have to look at the contract for specifics. But that might be it with this publisher for you,” she explains.

“Do you mean I’ll be dropped?” I ask.

“That’s…” She takes a breath. “Yes. That’s a distinct possibility. They can’t force you to write a book that isn’t in you, but you did already agree to do it. And if you can’t deliver it... I think you need to consider what you’d like to do with the future of your writing career.”

I stare at the screen while her words sink in.

“I understand,” I say, even though I’m not sure I fully do yet. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Let me try,” she says before we both awkwardly say goodbye.

I close my laptop and stare at it for a few moments before heading toward the bedroom. Forrest closes his laptop and stands from the chair in the corner when he sees me.

“What happened?” he asks, concern clear on his face.

What did just happen?

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE