Page 53 of The Write Midlife

Nate felt a wave of dread wash over him. She knows. Of course she knows—her agent would have been all over this deal.

He typed out a reply, his fingers feeling numb.

Kinda busy. Why don’t you stop by the office first?

I need to talk to you, too

As he hit send, he was struck by the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, planning a cozy dinner with the woman he was falling for, all while holding the potential destruction of her dreams in his hands.

How did he end up here? Caught between his growing feelings for Melody, his loyalty to the company, and his own beliefs about what publishing should be?

As he headed back to his office, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, and one wrong move could send everything crashing down. Tonight's dinner with Melody loomed ahead, a potential minefield of conflicting desires and corporate machinations.

He had never been much of a pray-er, but right now, he found himself hoping for some kind of divine intervention. Because he had absolutely no idea how he was going to look Melody in the eye and tell her that her beautiful, unconventional story needed to be turned into a cookie-cutter Hollywood blockbuster.

Maybe he would just get her really drunk first. That was a solid plan, right?

God, he was so screwed.

TWENTY-NINE

Melody arrivedat Nate's office, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

The movie deal news had been buzzing in her head all day, and she couldn't wait to discuss it with him. As she knocked on his door, she rehearsed how she would break the news, imagining his proud smile.

"Come in," Nate's voice called out, sounding oddly strained.

She pushed the door open, grinning. "Hey, Mr. Big Shot Editor. Ready to hear about your soon-to-be famous author's latest?—"

The words died in her throat as she took in Nate's appearance. He looked... haggard. His usually impeccable hair was mussed, as if he had been running his hands through it repeatedly. His tie was loose, and there was a tension in his shoulders that immediately set her on edge.

"Nate? What's wrong?" she asked, concern replacing her earlier excitement.

He sighed, gesturing for her to sit. "Melody, we need to talk about the movie deal."

She froze halfway to the chair. "You know about it? How?"

"There was a board meeting this morning. It seems Paramount contacted the company directly."

She slowly lowered herself into the seat, confusion replacing her earlier excitement. "Okay... So why do you look like someone just pissed in your morning espresso?”

Nate winced at her choice of words. "Because I'm afraid I might be about to piss on something of yours.” He pulled out a thick document from his desk drawer. "Melody, there are... conditions to this deal. Conditions that I'm not sure you're going to like."

Her stomach dropped. "What kind of conditions?"

Nate took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "They want to make some changes to the story. To make it more... attractive to a wider audience.”

She felt her hackles rising. "What kind of changes?"

"They want to add a love triangle, for starters. And increase the action sequences. They're talking about changing the ending to make it more... Hollywood."

Each word made her body more numb. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "They want to do what? Nate, tell me you're joking."

He looked at her, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and resignation. "I wish I was, Melody. But this is what they're proposing. A seven-figure deal, in exchange for these... adaptations."

"Adaptations?" She spit the word out like it was poison. "You mean butchering my story.”

Nate stood too, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Melody, please try to see the bigger picture here. This kind of opportunity?—"