Page 36 of The Shot You Missed
I close my eyes, steeling myself. We have this discussion every so often, and while I appreciate that my mom wants to be supportive, I can’t risk her or my dad leaking my identity as Violet Quinn to anyone. “Mom, you know I keep my pen name a secret for a reason. One day I’ll show you, it’s just…”
“I understand, sweetie. When you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to cheer you on and tell the world I’m your biggest fan.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Talk soon?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay. I love you, Indigo.”
“Love you too.” Some part of me feels guilty at the relief that floods my system when I hang up the call, but it’s a very small part, and it’s easily brushed off.
Unfortunately, that relief is short-lived. The first email in my professional inbox is from my agent.
Hey superstar,
Don’t shoot the messenger, but the publisher is really on me about doing an identity reveal. Your last book did well enough that they believe this one could be huge, and they’d like you to attend some large book conventions and signings.
They understand why you’ve hesitated all these years, but at this point, they believe your work stands on its own, and I have to say I agree with them.
You know I’ll always have your back. If you’re not ready to tell the world who you are, you’re not ready, and I’ll make sure everyone respects that. All I’m asking is that you consider it.
You deserve to enjoy your success.
Let me know what you think. We can do a call about it if you need to run through some pros and cons.
Yours,
Elise
“Shit,”I mutter under my breath. But apparently not quietly enough, because a man from the table closest to mine eyes me curiously. When he smiles, I quickly turn my head and refocus on my laptop.
I won’t get anything else written today. Between the call with my mom and the email from my agent, my mind is swirling.
Right when I found my balance after Ryland broke up with me, everything else started to unravel. My parents’ very public relationship issues, the pressure from my publisher… The foundations I’ve depended on for so long are shaking, and I’m not sure how to keep my footing.
Then there’s Sebastian. God, he throws me off-balance. But at least that’s a mostly welcome disruption.
Packing up my laptop, I hurry out of the cafe and make the walk to our little rental. I need to talk to Lola.
The weather is finally truly starting to warm. Birds sing and warble in trees covered in buds and unfurling leaves. The breeze carries a scent I can only describe as renewal. Fresh, faintly floral, and bright. After a couple of months of the cold, I appreciate the rebirth in a way I’m not sure I ever have in California.
Despite the anxiety I can’t quite shake surrounding my publishing contract, I’m smiling when I push through the front door.
Lola looks up from the laptop perched on her lap from where she sits, curled up, on the couch. “You look refreshed. Get a lot of writing done?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Almost nothing.”
“Okaaay…” Lola raises one eyebrow, waiting for me to explain.
“It’s just nice out.”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious. It’s all springy outside.”
“If you say so, boo.”
