Page 60 of The Write Stuff

“It does to me.”

Did he really want to talk about my ex-boyfriends? Because, if so, it was going to be a short conversation. “I … um … it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Were you in college at the time?” He wasn’t forceful with the question, instead offering up a soft smile of encouragement. There was turbulence brewing in his eyes, though.

“No. I was about 25, I think. It was when I was working at the publishing house as an intern. I was actually writing my first book, but it was going really slowly, and I kept second-guessing myself. My mother suggested the internship so I could learn about the other side of publishing.”

“That was actually pretty smart of her.” He bobbed his head in approval. “I wish my mother had done the same for me.”

“Oh, it turned out to be a disaster.” I tried to smile at the memory, but it was impossible. “I met Kevin when he was working as an assistant in the art department. He acted like he was really into me — you know, he kept talking about how pretty I was, which should have been my first clue that he was up to something — but he really only wanted me to introduce him to Mom. He thought she might be able to get somebody to look at the graphic novel he was working on. They kept shutting him down.”

All traces of mirth were now missing from Huxley’s features. “You’re saying he tried to romance you because he wanted to get close to your mother?”

“Yeah.” My stomach constricted at the memory, and I reached for my latte. “It was embarrassing. He kept saying that he didn’t want labels on our relationship, and I found out after the fact that it was because he had a real girlfriend and he’d told her he was just dating me as a way to get a leg up on the rest of the competition.”

I took a huge swig of my coffee so I wouldn’t have to see the pity in Huxley’s eyes.

He didn’t say anything for so long, I assumed that he’d gone back to writing. When I lifted my chin, however, I found him glowering at me.

“What did I do?” Instinctively, I reached up to swipe at my cheek. “Is it food? I swear I washed my face this morning.”

“It’s not food. It’s that guy. Where is he now?”

That was an odd question, so I shrugged. “I think he’s still in New York. Last time I heard, they’d given him a permanent job in the department. It wasn’t doing a graphic novel or anything, though. He has to make those social media banners for everybody else’s books.”

“Well, at least he’s being tortured,” Huxley said darkly. “I can’t believe he did that to you.”

“Weirdly, he’s not the worst ex I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear about the others.”

“It wouldn’t be a long story. I’ve only had a few relationships, and they all ended poorly. I think I’m too much of a geek for most men.”

“You’re not a geek.” It almost sounded like a reflex coming from him, and I smirked.

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re not. You’re … perfect. If anybody tells you that you’re a geek, don’t listen to them. You’re allowed to like what you like.”

“I believe you were the first one to ever call me a geek,” I reminded him. “Well, other than my mother. She always said it with baffled affection, though. She thought it was cute.”

“That’s because it is cute.”

“She’s the only one who ever believed that.”

“No, I believe it, too.” He was adamant as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I need you to listen to me for a second.”

He was so earnest, all I could do was nod. Whatever he was about to say was serious.

“I was the sort of kid who needed approval from other people,” he started. “It was important to me that I was popular. Do you know that whenever I started a new school — which was often, as I’m sure you remember — the first thing I told the kids was that my mother was a famous author?”

He waited for me to respond, so I searched my brain for what I should say. “I’m sure any other kid in your shoes would have done the same thing,” I said finally.

“Did you do that?”

“No, but I didn’t have to jump between schools. I was always at the same school. I had friends. Not a lot of them because, again, everybody thought I was a geek. I had friends, though. I wasn’t constantly expected to make new ones.”

He extended his index finger. “Stop with the geek stuff. I’m trying to talk to you.”