Chapter 8

Cade

I couldn’t believe she’d actually asked me for help. She didn’t appear to be the kind of person who needed help with writing, but she’d asked. And somehow, somehow, I’d come up with something good in the moment. My brain had actually done me a solid and coughed up an idea that made sense and was really fucking romantic.

Who wouldn’t want their love interest to take them to see the monarch butterfly migration? I know I would. If I had a love interest, but it had been a while. Dating was so tricky for me. Either I’d subdue myself so much so I didn’t scare someone off, or I’d come out, guns blazing and they’d get scared off by my too-muchness. That was hard on the ego, I wasn’t going to lie.

Even though she hadn’t asked me, I came up with some more date ideas. Some simple, some completely outrageous. They kept popping up in my brain, so I started an empty email for them. I didn’t know if I was going to send it, but I typed them out anyway.

* * *

“Reada few of your books this weekend,” I informed her over lunch. Her reaction was subdued.

“Did you? And?”

I tried to keep my face neutral and made her wait.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to hurt my feelings, Cadence. You can tell me you didn’t like them. As long as it doesn’t affect your ability to do your job, it’s not a problem.”

Finally, I smiled. “I really liked them. I read three, and they were great. Let me tell you what a relief it was. You’re incredibly talented.”

She nodded, as if she’d heard that before. Of course she had. Probably hundreds of times, by people far more discerning than me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now I have to watch some of the movies and compare. What is that like? Having a movie made of your work?” That was something I’d been dying to know.

We were on the porch eating grilled sandwiches that she’d made alongside salads. Last week, I had reluctantly admitted to her that it did matter how you cut your sandwiches. Both of ours were cut diagonally as a result.

I had kind of given up on bringing my own lunches because what she had was always better. I did bring my own snacks, though. I hadn’t gotten to the point where I could just raid her fridge when I wanted.

“Movies are tricky. On one hand, I feel such a sense of wanting to control everything, and then I have to let go of that control at the same time. I’ve been able to get producing credits on a lot of the more recent ones, which was nice. It wasn’t easy, at first, to let someone else direct my characters and my vision. When they cast actors that I didn’t think looked like my characters, or they made plot choices I didn’t agree with. The first few were lower budget and I cannot watch them now. I know some of them have a weird cult following, but I just can’t.” She cringed.

“Well, now I definitely want to watch them,” I said. I loved a good bad movie. Maybe I could go over to Hunter’s because she had a better TV and we could invite Reid and make a whole thing out of it.

“Knock yourself out,” she said. Eloise really was unbothered about a lot of things. Guess that’s what happened when you’d been in a career as long as she had.

“What else did you do with your weekend, other than reading my backlist?” she asked.

“Went out with my friend Hunter on Friday. Thought about going out on Saturday but wasn’t feeling it. Did a lot of reading and trying to clean out my closet. Very exciting. What about you? Other than the alien books.” Now was my chance to find out all the exciting adventures she was probably having on weekends.

“It was my nephew’s birthday on Saturday. Camille’s son, Noah. That kind of wore me out. Hence the reading for the rest of the time.”

A kid’s birthday party was the last thing I expected. My assumptions about Eloise and her life were constantly rearranging and changing.

We finished up lunch and I took the plates to the kitchen and stacked the dishwasher. Some of my tasks felt incredibly domestic, and I had to keep reminding myself that I was working in someone else’s home. If I survived this month, I wouldn’t be here as often, but right now I was in her space.

That afternoon passed without any further conversation, but I kept having to stop myself from blurting something out randomly.

Working for Eloise wasn’t getting any easier.

* * *

The massive boxesof hardcovers arrived on Wednesday, and I was relieved that someone actually unloaded them off the truck and into the basement for us. I’d have to use the dolly from the garage to wheel them out for pickup, but at least I only had to handle them going one way.

I set up the tables that were stacked against the wall and started unpacking. There were just so many of them, it was daunting. Once I’d gotten them all out of their boxes and set up for Eloise to sign, I got her from the office and handed her a Sharpie.

Eloise let out a long breath. “Once more unto the breach.” She rolled her shoulders like she was getting ready for a workout, and I guess she kind of was.

For each book, I would hold the book open to the right page and slide it to her. She’d sign and then slide the book to the empty side of the table. It took a few minutes for us to get the hang of it, but once we got a rhythm going, we were on a roll. This woman had signed this way for a long time. Every now and then I might fumble, but I quickly caught back up and we moved through one entire table of books until Eloise stopped and set the Sharpie down.

“Break time,” she announced, doing her wrist stretches. I’d seen her do them several times a day at this point. I should probably get into the habit too. I was doing a lot of typing too, and sitting so much all day was starting to make my legs ache in the evenings. I might, horrifyingly, have to start exercising on a regular basis. Or get like a walking pad or something.

“Why don’t you have a standing desk with a walking pad?” I asked as she took a few laps around the room, rolling her shoulders.

She pivoted to face me.

“Because I like my desk. And the idea of trying to walk while trying to think sounds like a tripping hazard.”

“They go really slow, but I still get your point,” I said.

“Why do you ask? Do you want a standing desk with a walking pad?” She leaned against the table, kicking her legs out in front of her. She wore flats today, but she still looked incredibly polished. I was running out of nice clothes to wear and was going to have to start repeating and I didn’t know how to feel about that. It was inevitable, and the chances that she was even noticing what I was wearing were slim, but still. Being in this house was doing something to my brain. When I got home to my apartment it was like crawling back into the gutter. I’d never been so aware of my financial status in my life. Even being around Hunter, Princess Trust Fund, hadn’t messed with my head this badly.

“No, I don’t need a standing desk and a walking pad, but I’ll let you know if I do,” I said.

“Good. Let’s get this done,” Eloise said, interrupting my ruminating.

“Yeah, definitely,” I said, going to the second table full of books.

* * *

We finishedbefore the end of the day, and I was relieved. But tomorrow I had to put all the books back in boxes and get them ready for the pickup. Wasn’t looking forward to that. A problem for Tomorrow Cade.

Tonight, Hunter was dragging me out to an art gallery because one of her friends was showing some photography. It wasn’t necessarily my thing, but there was free food and alcohol, so I wasn’t going to turn that down. And it might give me some culture or something. I bet Eloise knew a lot about art. She had plenty of it in her house. Mostly soft paintings and landscapes, but she also had some lovely black-and-white photography that I sometimes caught myself staring at.

Hunter met me at my apartment, and we took a car to the gallery since it was too far to walk. Reid had said she was busy, so it was just me and Hunter and then a bunch of people that Hunter knew that I didn’t. Like a good friend, though, she didn’t abandon me and instead introduced me and made sure to include me in the conversations. When they asked what I did, I said I was a personal assistant and they did ask for further clarification, but I just deflected. I didn’t really know how to tell people what my job was without things getting weird or them asking too many questions. If they knew who I worked for, would they ask for free books or want to meet her or something?

It was something I just didn’t want to deal with, so I danced around the subject until something else came up. Hunter helped, for which I was grateful. She came back to my place with me after and we sat on my couch and talked about the art and her friends.

“You’ve got to come up with a better line about your job. Are you ashamed of it?” she asked, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table.

“No. I just don’t know what to say. Eloise Roth is famous, and I feel like I’m, I don’t know, famous adjacent now? What if people start asking me for stuff?”

Hunter gave me a perplexed look. “Why would people do that? And why would it be a big deal?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It still doesn’t feel real to me. Going into her house every day and managing things I should absolutely not be managing.”

Hunter put her arm around me. “But you are managing, so who cares? You have some of the worst impostor syndrome in another human I’ve ever seen.”

“I know, I know.” I didn’t want to be this way. I didn’t always want to think the worst about myself before thinking of anything else.

“She signed like a million books today. It was wild. She can swoop that signature in two seconds. It was kind of amazing.”

I bet Eloise never had impostor syndrome. She was good at everything, and I bet she had never doubted herself. People like her floated through life on a cloud of confidence.

But she had asked me for help with a chapter. I mean, she hadn’t begged me or anything, but she had asked. Thinking about one of my ideas actually making it into her book was kind of astonishing. Even if this job didn’t work out, my idea might be in print for who knows how many years. Thousands of copies. The idea of that was kind of intoxicating.

“I’d really like to meet her. I’ve watched some of her interviews, but I’d like to see if that matches up with who she is outside of her public persona,” Hunter said.

I made a face. I didn’t like the idea of my work life and my personal life crossing over. Eloise didn’t need to see my life and my messy apartment and my friends. I was just a person who sorted her emails and made her coffee. She didn’t need to see all the corners of my life.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I might be able to get you a signed copy of a book though,” I said, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

“I thought you didn’t want to do that?” she asked.

Snuggling into her shoulder, I pulled the bowl of popcorn onto my lap. “Not for random people, but you’re different.”

“Aw, I love you too,” she said, kissing my temple.

* * *

My second weekwith Eloise ended and finally it was another weekend. Hunter was away at some bullshit event with her parents (charity polo match), so I begged Reid to do something with me. Unfortunately, her idea of “doing something” involved hiking, so I had to get out my boots and backpack and wash my water bottle.

We drove further inland and hit one of the state parks, which had several really nice hikes with mountain views. I agreed to go on the condition that she took me to one of the best diners in the state after. Friendship was all about give and take.

“You good?” Reid asked when we made it to the top.

“Yeah,” I wheezed, both hands on my knees. “I’m good.” I gave her a thumbs up and then kind of collapsed onto the ground. Sweat had dripped down my back and had collected in my ass crack and I was regretting every decision that brought me to this moment. The view was kind of spectacular though.

“Buck up, kid. You did good,” Reid said, fresh as a daisy, barely even winded, as she sat down next to me.

“Show off,” I said with a glare, sucking down some water in hopes that it would revive me.

“Don’t be a hater,” she said, zipping open her pack and handing me a granola bar. Thankfully it was covered in chocolate.

I took a huge bite. “But being a hater is so much fun.”

Reid snorted and then we posed for a few selfies that we shared and posted on our social media pages. Hunter sent us a picture of lounging on a blanket at the polo match with a glass of expensive champagne.

“The least she could have done was invite us,” Reid said when we both saw the picture in our group chat.

“I didn’t know people who weren’t like, royalty, played polo,” I said, asking Hunter to take a video so I could see how the hell they played polo. “I think she’s probably having a better day.”

Reid made a scoffing sound. “No way. She’s not getting this.” She waved at the view just as a bald eagle flew by and we scrambled to take pictures and video.

“You planned that,” I said.

Reid nodded, her face serious. “Yes, me and the eagle coordinated ahead of time. We’re besties.”

I shoved her shoulder and she cackled. The two of us took some more pictures and sat there until I felt like I was ready to move again, which took longer than it should have.

“Oh, shit,” I said when Reid pulled me to my feet. “I should have demanded a massage instead of a meal at the diner.”

My body was going to hate me tomorrow. I really was out of shape.

“It’s all that sitting, I’m telling you. Can’t your boss get you a standing desk with a walking pad?”

We turned and headed back down the trail, waving to a few people who passed us on their way to the summit.

“I don’t think it would work for me. I’m just going to have to take more breaks and start walking more or something. I can’t let my body calcify into a hunched-over husk before I turn thirty.” Although, Eloise had been writing for many years and she wasn’t a husk. Should I try Pilates? Was that the secret?

Reid skipped on ahead of me down the trail. “Or you could just come hiking with me more often.”

I huffed and puffed behind her, going slow so I didn’t twist an ankle. “Let me see how I feel after this one.”

She laughed and kept moving faster.

* * *

Sunday I was completelyuseless after the hike. Reid had sent me a video for stretching and I’d done that, as well as taking a long bath and used some of the CBD lotion that cost an arm and a leg. That kind of knocked me out into an unexpected nap and when I woke up there were a bunch of messages I’d missed. Hunter was still with her parents and Reid had had a wild night at work and Danica had made up with Gavin and they were happy again.

Everyone was happy and I was… Well. I was.

I wasn’t unhappy. No, I’d been unhappy, and I’d dealt with a few bouts of depression here and there, but I wasn’t mentally there right now.

I was fine. Yeah, I was fine. Totally fine. Just…fine.

“Fuck,” I told myself, getting up off the couch. That nap had messed me up. Needing to reset my brain, I grabbed my ereader and scrolled through my options. I did have a few more of Eloise’s books, so I read a few blurbs and then picked one.

She really was a talented writer. Her books were written to appeal to a mass audience, but they had these little turns of phrase that were so unique and charming. I liked her style.

They were also funnier than they should be. Her humor in her books made me wonder if she was hiding her inner comedian, or if she was one of those people who was the opposite of her work. Not that I really knew much about authors, but there were some that I followed whose personality appeared to be on the other side of the spectrum from their work. Like dark romance authors who were always posting pictures of rescued kittens and loved to collect stuffed animals.

I spent the rest of my day off with the book and it was my favorite one yet. Sure, it wasn’t a queer romance, but it was still working for me. The guy was great and such a dirty talker. More so than her other books. I wanted to ask her about it, but that would probably be weird. What was the protocol in asking your boss about her writing dirty talk?

Yeah, that was something I shouldn’t touch with a ten-foot-pole. That would definitely be a reason to fire me.

I guess I’d just hold onto those wonderings and never know the truth.