Chapter 26

HANNAH

I walked toward Novel Gossip’s front door, fiddling with my hearing aid, checking it was working even though there was no reason to think it wasn’t. I’d finally gotten used to wearing it again. The first few days, I’d been very conscious of my hair brushing against the microphone and how loud certain sounds, like my fingers typing on the keyboard and birds chirping, were. But touching it was a nervous habit.

Ouch. Pain shot up my leg as I walked into a chair. Usually, I could navigate Novel Gossip on autopilot, but we’d rearranged the tables and chairs so they were facing a small, raised platform with two armchairs and a small round table under the newly installed floating shelves, and I was more than a little preoccupied.

When I’d reached out to Chris, I’d convinced myself that I’d be fine meeting them in person as H. M. Stuart. It was worth it to do something nice for George. But now that the moment was imminent, nausea rocked my stomach. I’d be a disappointment. I’d clam up, get all flustered, and not be able to hold a conversation. Anything that came out of my mouth would be awkward and weird. Meanwhile, Chris would be everything I was not.

To calm myself, I silently walked through the conversation topics I’d brainstormed earlier, since it was inevitable that Chris and I would talk tonight. At least George would be by my side most of the evening. I looked out of the window. George had picked Chris up from the train station, dropped their luggage at Willow Inn, a gorgeous bed and breakfast near the river, and had just pulled up in front of Novel Gossip.

As George and Chris began walking toward Novel Gossip, I took a deep breath, plastered a smile on my face and opened the front door.

My fears were completely unfounded. A few inches taller than me, in their late twenties with short black hair, black jeans, heavy black boots, and a black t-shirt with a funky cut, Chris’s look screamed cool writer from NYC vibes. But while their outfit was intimidatingly cool, Chris themself was anything but. They were warm, friendly, and also a little bit awkward in a way that put me immediately at ease. When George excused herself to help finish setting up the café for the event, I was relieved that I didn’t find it a struggle to make conversation with Chris at all. We covered some publishing news—a few big editors had recently changed publishing houses, and we bemoaned that a small New York press had been recently acquired by one of the Big Five publishers. In more positive news, Cobble Hill Books, a beloved independent Brooklyn bookstore had just managed to evade closure after their landlord threatened to almost double their rent. Heartwarmingly, the local community had banded together and pressured the landlord into renewing their lease with only a modest rent increase.

“No pressure if you don’t feel like talking about it—I totally understand—but if you do…how’s your current book going?” Chris asked with an open smile.

“If you’d asked me a month ago, I would’ve probably curled up into a ball, but I actually sent off the first sixty thousand words to my editor this morning, and I’m on track to finish it in the next week or so, which is a huge relief.” It had felt amazing this morning to hit send on that email.

“Oh that’s awesome! Your editor is Tania Haynes, isn’t it? What’s she like? She sounds super intimidating. I saw her speak at an industry event a few weeks ago, and she seemed like a real gun. But not someone you’d want to get on the bad side of.”

Surprised at just how little the mention of Tania’s name affected me, I smiled. Chris knew my first name was Hannah, but my real last name hadn’t come up, so even if they knew that Hannah Taylor was in the process of divorcing Tania after discovering Tania was sleeping with a very talented twenty-three-year-old romantasy author, whom she also worked with, they probably hadn’t made the connection.

“She’s a very talented editor,” I said diplomatically. And it was true—she was. It felt good to be able to see Tania more objectively, not colored by hurt and emotions. Tania was ten years older than me, confident, whip smart and one of the best editors in the business. And she’d been one of the first people who’d seen the promise in my writing. Looking back, it wasn’t surprising that I’d fallen for her, ice queen vibes and all. “But I’ve actually changed editors. I’m now with Michael Burrows. The current book I’m working on is our first book together, so it’s very early days.”

While I’d been able to talk about Tania without my anxiety rearing its head, my throat tightened at the reminder that Michael might currently be reading the first part of my manuscript. I was confident that it was some of my best work, but what if Michael disagreed? What if he didn’t agree with my vision for the book or wasn’t able to provide the sort of constructive feedback I needed to make it even better? For all Tania’s failings, she’d been instrumental in elevating my manuscripts so they reached their full potential. Would Michael be able to do the same?

“Oh wow, changing editors must be hard. But I’ve heard good things about Michael.” I appreciated that Chris didn’t ask what was behind the change. “And your latest book is launching next week, isn’t it? Are you going to do an event here as well? It’s such a great venue.”

I blinked at Chris. Somehow, I’d been so swept up in finishing my current book, spending time with George, and the rest of my new life in Sapphire Springs that the release date for The Realm of Furies had crept up on me. But they were right—it was next week. One of the benefits of being a reclusive author was that I wasn’t required to have much involvement in the weeks leading up to my book’s release. It was in stark contrast to Chris, who was in the midst of a busy schedule of publicity events and media interviews for their latest release.

“Yeah, it’s releasing Tuesday, but I’m not having a launch event,” I said. My stomach fluttered with nerves, thinking about the release. Hopefully it was as well-received as my last Realms book. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if it bombed.

“Oh, of course. Sorry, I forgot for a moment that you keep a low profile,” Chris said.

I changed the conversation topic onto Chris’s latest release, which I raved about. I’d just realized that this had been a poor choice of topic, as Chris was looking as awkward as I usually felt when people said positive things about my books, when George walked over to us.

“The audience should start arriving in the next few minutes, so if you want to use the restroom or would like a drink or something to eat before we start, just let me know.”

Chris ran their hand through their hair. “Okay, thanks. Where is the restroom?”

George gave them directions and turned to me as they disappeared down the hall behind the kitchen.

“How are you doing?” George put a hand on my lower back and looked at me closely. “It looks like you aren’t short on conversation.” I’d confided in George about my nerves earlier.

“Surprisingly good. Chris is great and way less intimidating in person than they were in my imagination.” I smiled and gave George a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Ha! That’s the way I felt about you too.” George gave me a squeeze. “Remember how stressed out I was about the prospect of meeting H. M. Stuart?”

“Little did you know you’d already met H. M. Stuart.” I laughed at the memory. It felt like months rather than weeks ago.

George squeezed my hand. “Hey, thanks again for organizing this. I think it’s going to be a really good night.”

The first of our guests started to trickle in. Within fifteen minutes, the rows of seats were nearly full. The time we’d spent putting flyers up around Main Street and in neighboring towns had paid off. I jumped behind the counter to start serving drinks while Chris and George, who was tonight’s interviewer, took their seats on the stage.

Watching Chris, so poised and impressive, answering each of George’s questions thoughtfully and clearly, I couldn’t help feeling a little envious. I wished that I had the confidence required to get up in front of a crowd and answer questions. But even the thought made my insides clench. As much as I’d like to be like that, I wasn’t.

When it came down to it, I was perfectly content, in fact, and I much preferred my quiet, under-the-radar, existence in Sapphire Springs. My gaze drifted to George, enthusiastically asking Chris another question about their book, and my chest filled with warmth. I still found it hard to believe just how well things had worked out. An amazing girlfriend, a new job and friends I loved. My manuscript was nearly done, and unless The Realm of Furies flopped next week, Barb’s future was hopefully secure, at least for now.