Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
I glance at Liz. “I’m fine. Go see him off. I’ll make coffee. I know where everything is.”
“No to the book deal,” I say, trying to get her to leave, too.
“Okay. I’ll make a cup of coffee and stay awhile.”
I sigh and follow Gabe to the exit to find him waiting on me with the door cracked open, his expression stern. “Why are you really here?”
“How good is Reese Summer?”
“He’s good. Really good. Why?”
“The best?”
“Yes. The best.”
“A killer?”
“In courtroom terms, yes. Why? Are you thinking of contracting him?”
“It’s complicated and you have company.” He turns and leaves, and I have this urge to chase after him and demand answers, when I’m not sure why, but he’s right. I have company.
Frowning, I walk back into the kitchen and find Liz leaning on the counter by the pot, sipping from a cup. “We can set rules and guidelines for the book. You are in charge. You control the content, title, and cover. It’s insanity to walk away from this.” She sets her cup down and walks to the island, where she sets her phone down. “Are you fucking Reese Summer?” She taps her phone, and I go all hot and cold inside.
“What?”
“Look at the photo,” she instructs.
I walk to the counter and stare down at a photo of me with Reese at the hotel last night, his hand on my arm. His body very close to mine. “How did you get that?”
“From your editor, who got it from Dan.”
“That bastard,” I say. “I had a fight with Reese last night just as I did with Dan. I tried to leave and Reese wasn’t done with the fight.”
“Are you fucking him?”
Damn it, she isn’t giving up. “I plead the Fifth.”
“Cat,” she breathes out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It didn’t happen until last night.”
“The publisher, the person above your editors, wants to see me Monday, but I can already hear her now.” She lowers her voice. “This situation creates a wave of tabloid-like gossip that doesn’t do justice to true crime.” She returns to her normal voice. “I hope that man is worth your career. I’ll let you know what happens.”
She heads to the door, and I let her go. I don’t move, but I listen as the door opens and closes. I’d already turned down the book deal. I don’t know why I feel so bad right now.
Chapter seventeen
Cat
Ispend the short time I’m in the shower fretting over Liz’s claim that I’ve ruined my career. By the time I’m out and drying off, I’m starting to get over it. Just as I’ve dressed in a pair of black jeans, a thin, long-sleeved teal sweater and boots, my phone buzzes with a text on the bathroom sink. I grab it and sit down on the vanity chair to find a message from Reese: Bring clothes. Stay the weekend. In the name of justice and all that is good and right about our court system.
“Justice and all that is good and right about our court system,” I laughingly murmur, and after a moment of considering my reply, I text back: What if we hate each other today? Then the whole weekend thing could get awkward.
His reply is quick and all man: We’ll fuck until we get over it. Doesn’t sound awkward to me.
He’s right, I think. We will.
That’s not awkward.
Which means that maybe it’s okay if we hate each other and make that happen. Or even better, just don’t hate each other at all and do it anyway. I think I’ll pack a bag and just consider the options. I don’t have to stay. I do so quickly, feeling good about my decisions as I apply my makeup, but as I dry my hair, Liz’s words quite unfortunately replay in my mind. Is he worth ruining your career? Obviously, I’m not as over her saying that after all. No, I’m not, but by the time I’ve finished with my flat iron, I know why. Liz is doing exactly what my father did to me every time he and I disagreed. And I did exactly what I did with my father: I doubted myself.
I swore I was done with that kind of thinking, yet I get questioned about Reese, and I’ve reverted back to old habits and I’m second-guessing myself. I walk to my closet in the back of my bathroom, and in between beating myself up and replaying Liz’s words, I pack my rolling computer bag with some personal items and a change of clothes, then stuff my computer inside. Now I can stay or go, and it won’t look like I planned the opposite of either. I grab my purse, and in about two minutes, I’m inside the elevator and really fuming at myself, not Liz. I let her do that to me. That’s on me.