Page 22 of The Write Track
“It’s going to be great,” Preston said automatically. “I know how to throw an event, if I can toot my own horn a bit. I’m only getting better with every event too.”
Bella made a disgruntled noise, and I swear I heard her mutter something about him tooting his own horn. She kept her smile in place though. It obviously took effort.
“Well, we’re all interested in the writer’s retreat you scheduled,” I said before I could think better of it. “We didn’t realize that was on the itinerary.”
“Oh, it was a last-minute thing.” Preston waved his hand as if there were nothing of importance to see on this roof. “I figured bar events were great but what readers really want is to get to know their favorite authors on a personal level. This felt like a natural way to level up.”
“It’s kind of weird, though,” Bree said, drawing Preston’s gaze to her. She wasn’t even pretending to be friendly with the guy. “Nobody asked us. It was just slipped into our contracts without anybody being the wiser.”
“Huh.” Everything about Preston was a facade, which was obvious when he feigned innocence. “Weird. Either way, it will be fun for everybody. Just as tonight promises to be.” His eyes moved to Bella. “I hope you’re not too nervous.”
I could feel Bella’s spine stiffen. “I’m not nervous. It’s going to be a great event.”
“Of course it will be. A handful of readers might even be here for you too. Don’t be too disappointed if they’re not interested though. I’m sure, once they know who you are, that will change. Even if your first two books weren’t masterpieces—I liked them, of course—somebody is bound to be a fan.”
And there it was. One of those backhanded comments Bella had mentioned when we’d first talked about Preston.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” I said darkly. “Something tells me my Bellarino is going to be the belle of the ball.”
Preston’s smile was flat. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
“I guess we will,” I readily agreed.
6
SIX
The reader event, despite Preston’s presence, had been amazing. I’d been nervous, of course. Why would anybody possibly want to hang out with me when I wasn’t that interesting? But there had been a whole group of readers who wanted to meet me.
Some were there because they were already fans of Bree and had met her the previous year. They all seemed excited to meet me as well. So after my initial bout of nerves, I settled in.
Nathan kept close. He sat one table over and interacted with his fans. More than once, however, I felt his gaze on me. He seemed as amped about my readers as I was. A couple times, when I started floundering, he smoothly stepped in and kept the conversation going.
I hated that he was so good with people.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. I didn’t hate it. I was jealous. My mother was good with people too. I’d been raised to handle anything when it came to interacting with strangers. My mother always said it was important. Somewhere along the line, I’d lost that ability, and I desperately wanted it back.
After three hours of chatting with readers, some of whom had specifically come for me, I was exhausted. Everybody walked out together, and Nathan insisted on seeing me home, even though my new apartment was only a couple blocks away.
I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he was adamant. He didn’t come right out and say he was worried about Preston following me, but it was right there, bubbling just beneath the surface. He did not like Preston. Most people didn’t. They tolerated him.
So I let Nathan walk me home. We went into the building together, but he let me get on the elevator by myself. He gave me a little salute and said he would see me soon. There was nothing romantic about the gesture, yet a little pang went through me when he blew me an extravagant, although fake, kiss.
That had been three days ago. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Not that I was expecting to or anything. Once the retreat rolled around, we would have to keep up appearances—Preston would make sure of that—but Nathan was friendly enough. We would be fine.
I just felt so guilty about him going out of his way for me, a woman he barely knew. He didn’t know me, yet he’d already done more to help me than Preston ever had. What did that say about my taste in men?
I wasn’t happy about any of it. I felt guilty because Nathan was going above and beyond, and Preston’s presence in town made me feel itchy. I had to assume he was flying in for the events, but a part of me worried that he’d found a place to live here in town just so he could be close.
The man didn’t love me. He never had. This was all a game to him. He wouldn’t rent—or worse, buy—a place in Savannah just to mess with me. Right?
It made no sense for him to go that route. But part of me still wondered.
Because I was determined to love my new city, I pushed thoughts of him out of my mind and set about exploring. Each day, I went to a different coffee shop to check out the vibe. At each visit, I sat near the window and watched the foot traffic as I wrote.
My mind was open and ready for anything. There was no struggle as I put words on the page. Sure, I was still percolating horror stories that I desperately wanted to write, but I didn’t hate the romantasy. It was fun and light, and so much of my life in the years leading up to leaving Preston had been the opposite of that.
I would not let him ruin things for me. Not again. Iwouldmake Savannah my home. I would find happiness—and maybe someone to love, eventually. For now, Nathan had given me an easy out. I wouldn’t forget about that. Somewhere down the line, when he needed a favor, I would provide it, no questions asked.
