Chapter 11

Megs stared at the email on her phone.

Narration Contestants,

Due to an unforeseen scheduling conflict, our meet-up on Friday will now start at 8:30 PM instead of the previously announced 6:00 PM. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. Rest assured, we still have a full dinner planned, complete with after-dinner cocktails to help us all unwind and get to know one another better.

Best regards,

Oscar Calloway

Megs had been about to send Oscar—or Matt—an email thanking him for the opportunity but declining his offer to participate. But now . . . now she could attend. Her class ended at eight o’clock, which meant she’d be a bit late depending on traffic, but not by much.

Megs chewed on her lower lip. It was just one dinner, right? She could go, enjoy a free meal, meet the other contestants, and then politely explain to Oscar that she wouldn't be able to continue.

That familiar swirl of anxiety hit her stomach. Was she doing what she always did? Justifying this because it was exciting to her? Why was it so hard to tell? It was one thing not to trust advertising claims or news articles, but herself? How could she know what was real when her own brain and hormones lied to her?

Megs dropped her phone on the bed and continued cleaning. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a warm autumn glow on the scattered clothes and books that littered the floor. Her instructor for the certification course had agreed to let her back in, and she’d worked non-stop Thursday after her shift to finish her assignments. Today she was off, which meant she had to tackle all the tasks she’d been neglecting.

First, dejunk her room in preparation for packing. She’d texted her mother as soon as she got the email Thursday morning, and now everything was back on track. They would be apartment shopping on Saturday, and there was one place Megs was especially excited about after looking at the listings online. It was a shared house with a garden and a private room. The house was old, but well-maintained, at least from the pictures.

She tossed an old blouse in the box next to the door. It had taken her an hour to finally force herself to start sorting her things, but now it felt like the most thrilling thing in the world. She was making order out of chaos. How had she acquired so many pieces of clothing she never wore?

A wave of emotion rolled through her as she reached back into her closet. She’d moved out of this home before, but even then, she knew it still existed. It was still a place in the world she’d mapped by heart.

Megs knew the dent in the wall in the hallway from her elbow when she and Bobbi were trying to do handstands, and Bobbi had landed on her. She knew that if the power went out in the living room, someone had plugged a charger into the wrong outlet and had popped the breaker.

She knew not to flush the toilet in the powder room while someone was showering in the master . . . or to flush it if her sister happened to be in there. She’d memorized the under-counter light in the kitchen and the smell of coffee on weekday mornings before school or work in the middle of January when it was still dark as they woke.

The lilac bushes along the back fence. The fire pit she’d roasted marshmallows on. The swallows that made a new nest each spring under the eaves at the edge of the patio. None of it would exist after this month, at least not for her. She had so few things that she knew to the core in this world, and now she was losing one of them.

Megs swiped the tears from her eyes and finished going through her closet, then took her laptop to the kitchen for much-needed sustenance and task number two.

The next day, Megs was a ball of nerves. She’d submitted three out of five assignments for Professor Adams and was dying to see her grades. They’d be good. They had to be. Seeing high percentages pop up instead of the zeroes currently sitting in her profile would release the tension on the elastic band stretched tight in her chest.

But that wasn’t the only reason she was wound up. In just over an hour, she needed to head up to campus for her class. That meant facing Mr. Fletcher again, who was possibly annoyed at her complaining to Ms. Martinez, and then heading straight to the contestant dinner with Oscar Calloway.

The ladies in town had been calling all morning and tittering on the phone with her mom while she was eating breakfast. Can you believe she’s going to meet him in person? Should I have her ask him? Oh, I don’t know if he’d have time for something like that, but you never know. Her mom had to be thrilled that Megs and this competition were the height of drama in town, regardless of her feelings about Megs’ decision to audition in the first place.

Megs wouldn’t be asking Oscar anything, particularly since she would announce her departure from the competition as soon as she finished her free meal. The real problem was that she wouldn't have time to come home after her class, so she had to be ready to schmooze by the time she left at four forty-five.

She stood in front of her now-sparse closet, searching for an outfit that would strike the right balance between casual and chic. She finally settled on a flowy, mustard-yellow blouse tucked into high-waisted black jeans that hugged her slender frame. Paired with ankle boots, it was the perfect fall outfit that shouldn’t look too out of place in class or the restaurant.

Megs got dressed and walked into the bathroom. After washing her face, she moisturized and plucked a few wild eyebrows, then used a bit of concealer under her eyes. A swipe of mascara and a brush of bronzer completed her natural makeup look. Taming her wild auburn curls was another challenge altogether, but she managed to coax them into soft waves that framed her face.

She took one last look at her reflection, then retreated to her room and checked her phone. The videos she’d made about the audiobook competition the other day were getting more traction than she’d expected. She’d tagged Oscar’s newly made account, and he’d already commented.

Happy to have you in the running!

He wouldn’t be happy for long. She did a quick lip-sync video about one of the books Oscar had written and tagged him. Megs wasn’t fooling herself into thinking she mattered much to anyone at this point in the competition, but she didn’t want to take it without giving something back. This felt better.

The drive up to Champlain felt longer than usual. She turned on a podcast, but her mind kept zoning out. Usually landing on something related to Gideon.

When Megs was little, her mom adored puzzles and always had one out on the coffee table. Sometimes it would sit there for days, sometimes for weeks. Every time Megs passed it, she’d sit for a moment and try to find a few pieces that fit. Never did she leave that coffee table glad she’d sat down.

She hated the feeling of something missing—of something not being complete. It was torture to put in two, even five pieces, and then have to stand up and walk away with gaping holes in the picture.

That was how it felt with Gideon. They’d started a picture, however unintentionally, that Saturday night while they ate their sloppy burgers. That frame was sitting there on the coffee table just waiting to be filled in, and it was killing her.

At this point, she didn’t even care what the picture was, she just needed it to make sense. Would he be interested in picking up where they left off as soon as the semester was over on December 10th? Did he regret that night and now feel awkward when he saw her in class? Whatever it was, she wanted answers so she could put it to rest and stop thinking about his hands on her waist or his lips. His laugh . . .

She needed louder music.

Megs gripped the steering wheel and made it to the parking lot, then went into class early. Her instructor didn’t give her a second glance, which she appreciated. Just a lecture as usual.

When it ended two and a half hours later, Megs thanked him, loaded up her bag, and walked back to her car. In a stroke of academic luck, their topic tonight had required enough mental energy to keep her from stressing about the dinner. But now that she was heading to the restaurant, her heart rate spiked.

She dialed Haley on Bluetooth in an act of desperation to kick her intrusive thoughts.

“Hey, stranger!”

Megs grinned. “How are you?”

“Busy as usual, but you caught me at home early tonight.”

“Good for you. I hope you’re soaking in the bath or watching a trashy reality show or something.”

Haley laughed. “Geez, I haven’t slipped that far. What are you up to?”

“Heading to this dinner for the narration competition.”

Haley gasped. “Oh, no way! Is he going to be there? The author?”

“Yep. Should be interesting.” Interesting was putting it mildly. Any famous person she’d ever met had been a head case. She could only hope that Oscar’s quirks wouldn’t make the night painful.

“K, you have to call after and tell me everything.”

“I will, but I doubt there’ll be much to tell. The whole thing is way more intense than I expected, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stay in it while taking courses and moving at the same time.”

“Don’t you only have tomorrow and next weekend left for the certification?”

“Yes, but Oscar’s events are on the weekends, too. And, in a strange twist, half of the people on the finalist list are apparently people Oscar knew as a young adult.”

“How do you know that?”

“Long story, but the professor that helped me record my audition is a final—”

“Hot guy from the coffee shop? The one you went to get burgers with?”

Megs groaned. “I should not have texted you details.”

“Wait, is he teaching that class you’re in? The one you wanted to drop?” Haley’s voice defied gravity by rising higher with each word.

Megs didn’t answer. Hearing Haley intimate the details of her past few weeks made her wonder if she was the one on a trashy reality show.

Haley groaned. “Oh, Megs. He is, isn’t he? That’s why you wanted to drop the class, isn’t it?”

“No! I wanted to drop the class because I didn’t want to spend three hundred dollars I don’t have.” She still didn’t know how she was going to come up with that.

“Nope, no way—you like him. I can tell by the way you’re getting defensive.”

Megs growled in frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you have a crush. Which, you absolutely should. He was adorable.”

“Can you not make him sound like he’s a toddler?”

“I knew you were thinking about jumping him right there in Green Mountain, that’s why I—”

“I was not!” She was. She absolutely was, with his hot glasses and collared shirt.

“—why I left, but it turned out he did the jumping for you.”

Megs let out an exasperated sigh. She was sweating. This was not the distraction she was hoping for. “And now he’s my professor and he barely looks me in the eyes, so we’ve come a long way.”

“Until tonight.”

“Not until tonight, Hales! He’s been unequivocal that he doesn’t cross boundaries with his students, and I respect that.” She didn’t need to tell her how she’d inadvertently led Gideon on to get that dinner and kiss in the first place.

“Maybe he’s patient. Maybe this whole semester will be a sexy build-up of longing and restraint—”

“You are watching trashy reality TV, aren’t you?”

“No. But maybe I picked up one of Oscar’s novels.”

Megs nearly swerved off the road. “You did not!”

Haley giggled. “They’re surprisingly good.”

“Who are you? You are a strong, independent business owner—”

“Who just discovered a new love for men who work on horse ranches.”

Megs shook her head. “Well. I’m telling Bobbi.”

Haley scoffed. “Whatever, Bobbi is living her second-chance romance. She doesn’t get to say anything about us single gals and our preferred coping strategies.”

Coping strategies. Did Megs have any of those? “Fine. Fair. Seriously, though, they’re good?”

“Like the milk chocolate caramels you hide in your drawer at work and eat secretly at two in the afternoon even though you tell everyone you only eat dark chocolate.”

Megs laughed and stopped at a red light. “Got it. I’m almost back to Sugar Creek. Thanks for helping me pass the time.”

“Have a blast tonight, and—wait, that professor is a finalist. He’s going to be there?”

“Goodnight, Hales.”

“Call me!”

Megs ended the call and drew a deep breath. Then another. She continued breathing in silence until she finally parked at The Rustic Table. She was only ten minutes late. Perfectly reasonable.

The butterflies in her stomach flit and darted wildly as she reapplied her tinted lip balm, pulled on her jacket, and grabbed her purse before stepping out of the car. She scanned the restaurant as she walked through the art deco glass doors.

It had been over a year since she’d been here, not for dinner but for a glass-blowing demonstration in the shop out back. They’d done a complete overhaul of the place. The whole feel of it, with dark wood accents, flickering candles, and antiques on the wall instead of the prior owner’s taxidermied animals, was all swank.

"May I help you?" the hostess asked. She was tall with shiny blond hair, dressed in all black.

"Yes, I'm here for the audiobook competition meetup.”

"Yes, of course. Please follow me." The hostess led Megs through the restaurant, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. They walked to the back of the restaurant through a pair of French doors, and Megs breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the other contestants were standing and mingling instead of already sitting down at the long table in the center of the private room.

"Thank you," Megs said to the hostess, who inclined her head gracefully and left Megs to it. She beelined it to a high-top table near the mini bar with an open space. When the three people already standing there paused their conversation, she quickly introduced herself.

"Hey, I'm Megs.” She couldn’t help her eyes from wandering a bit in search of a familiar face.

"Melissa," one of the contestants replied, shaking Megs' hand. She had a pixie cut and a firm grip. The woman next to her with porcelain skin and long, dark hair introduced herself as Layla, and then there was a man who looked like every guy Megs had ever seen in a dandruff shampoo commercial.

“Sean,” he said, running a hand through his thick, flake-free hair.

Megs smiled. "Nice to meet you all. Have any of you done narration before?"

"Never," Melissa replied, taking a sip of her cocktail. "I've always loved performing, but this whole audiobook thing is new to me. Thought it might be fun to give it a try."

"Same here," Layla admitted, her eyes darting around the room in a way that made her look like a small bird. "I used to act in local theater but gave it up after some bad experiences. A friend told me about this competition, so I thought I'd take a chance and see if it could help me find my passion again."

"Ah, well, I'm actually a professional actor," Sean bragged, leaning harder into his forearms on the tabletop. "You might know me from my commercial work." He winked and continued, "Thought this would be a great way to expand my portfolio, you know?" Was this guy for real?

As the conversation went on, Megs caught the eye of a waiter and ordered a Coke. When she turned to take the glass from him, she spotted Gideon laughing across the room, and her heart skipped a beat. He looked absolutely stunning in his tailored suit, his dark hair combed back instead of mussed like she was used to seeing it.

An electric shiver ran down her spine, and for a second she imagined herself grabbing her drink and sliding in next to him. She saw the smile he’d have on his face, the same one he’d worn when he helped her hobble to the car while holding her snapped sandal.

Gideon looked up, and their eyes met for a brief moment before Megs snapped her head back to the contestants at her table, hoping they didn’t notice her flushed cheeks.

“What about you, Megs?” Melissa asked.

She took a sip of Coke. “I need the money.”

Sean coughed a laugh. “Honesty. That’s hot.”

Megs gave a flirtatious shrug, and just like that, she’d dropped into her role. Flirty. Brazen. Say-it-how-it-is. This was just another character she was playing for the night.

"Attention, everyone!” A deep voice lifted above the chatter, followed by the clinking of a glass. Megs turned and took in the man standing at the head of the table they were about to dine at.

It was Oscar Calloway. She knew this not only because of his social media profiles but because of how commanding his presence was. The way his lips were pulled into a half smile and his hand was slung into the pocket of his tailored slacks. This man knew he was important.

“Before we settle in for dinner, I wanted to thank each of you for submitting auditions and showing up tonight. This has been an adventure for me and my team, and I’m so glad we took the plunge.”

He nodded to two women standing together in the back corner at a table littered with electronics. They must be the said members of his team, probably recording portions of the night for his social media.

“I also wanted to give a bit of insight into our upcoming events and coaching session," Oscar continued. "First, there’s a copy of my book—signed—for each of you on the far table. You’ll have some reading assignments throughout the competition that I hope will help you connect more with the material. Second, I’ve put you all into smaller groups. I felt that would be more conducive to receiving personalized feedback in our coaching session.”

Megs’ pulse quickened when she felt Gideon’s eyes on her from across the room. He was standing next to someone, a blond-haired woman who was standing a bit too close to be a complete stranger.

Oscar flashed a winning smile. "I've made seating assignments accordingly, so you can get to know your fellow actors during dinner. You'll find your name cards at your designated seat, so please take a look, and let's enjoy this fabulous meal together!" Oscar gestured grandly toward the elegantly set table.

Megs followed the others, her eyes scanning for her name card. She secretly hoped she’d end up next to Sean. Even though he was a grade-A jerk, she knew how to handle men like that. She was good at feeding egos, and that would be a lot easier than staying silent because she was seated across from someone who wasn’t a talker.

The room buzzed with a newfound energy as people milled about, searching for their places. When she spotted her name, Megs stopped and picked up her card, then glanced at the one next to it. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Looks like we’re sitting next to each other.” Gideon put his hands on the back of his chair.

“Looks like it, Professor.”