Sewanee’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Mark continued, “All they know so far is she was there for the convention. I think they said she was from East Texas. I can’t believe you don’t know about this.”
A few words spattered out. “I . . . I didn’t–I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, she did! Apparently she was screaming all the way down, ‘Happily ever after is bullshit!’”
Oscillating between suspicion and panic, Sewanee sputtered, “Wait–you are–did–how–what–”
Mark burst out laughing. His full swoop of silver hair flopped into his face; his Clint Eastwood crow’s-feet crinkled.
Sewanee crumpled over in the chair. “You asshole! You absolute raging asshole!” She snapped her head up. “How did you know about her?”
Mark wiped at the tears in his eyes. “Alice was in this morning and told me about your little exchange. I couldn’t resist.”
“God, you are such a dick!” She stood up. “I have work to do.” She started for the door.
“You make it too easy! Wait, don’t leave yet, I have something to talk to you about.”
“That’s okay, I already own a piece of the Brooklyn Bridge.” She continued out the door.
“Swan! I’m serious, come back. I’m sorry, but it was payback. Remember your little tour de force last month? ‘Mark, oh my God, did you see Sal’s passenger side?’ You know how I feel about my Ghia. Now we’re even.”
She turned around and stomped back into his office, striking a defiant pose in front of him, arms crossed. “What?”
“Have a seat.”
“I’m fine standing.”
“Good, I want you to stand.”
In spite of herself, she huffed a laugh. This was their relationship. They played, they poked, they tested, but they were there for each other whenever either needed it. Or simply wanted it. They had done more for each other than either would ever say, mostly because they didn’t have to. They worked because they loved each other the way two people could when attraction was off the table.
“You got an offer,” Mark said.
“Okay?” This wasn’t unusual. Most of the time, offers came to her directly, but occasionally someone couldn’t find her and they reached out to Mark. But the way he was smiling made her suspicious. “What?”
“It’s . . . fitting.”
She knew. She just knew. “It’s a Romance novel, isn’t it.”
“Yes. But no.”
“Mark.”
“I’m not being cagey. It’s just different.” He clasped his hands. “You remember June French?”
“Of course. She gave me my start. Back when I did Romance. Which I no longer do.”
“She died recently.”
“You’re clearly very broken up about it.”
“You knew?”
“I knew. But can you imagine if I didn’t and that’s the way you told me?”
“You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”
“After your little tour de force, no.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, her very-much-alive producer reached out. There’s a project she penned that never saw the light of day. She had wanted Sarah Westholme to–”
“Still don’t do Romance.”
“Swan, hear me out.” He leaned forward, brought up the e-mail on his computer, cleared his throat, and dipped into his narrator voice. The voice that read political histories to the masses. The beloved voice of Dad Literature everywhere. “‘Dear Mark, my name is Jason Ruiz and I am working with June French’s estate to produce an audio version of her final project. I am trying to get in touch with one of June’s narrators, Sarah Westholme. I’ve been told you might be able to connect us.’”
“If only I still did Romance.”
“Shhhh. ‘It’s a bit outside the box and June wrote it with Sarah in mind. She was June’s favorite narrator and also a fan favorite.’”
“That’s sweet. But I don’t do–”
“Will you shut up?” He was smiling, but he meant it. “‘The project will be dual narration. June had intended to serialize this new novel into hour-long episodes released on a weekly basis and distributed through her platform.’”
“Smart,” she observed. “Too bad I don’t do–”
“I swear to God, Swan– ‘The whole series will be around eight hours long, split evenly between Sarah and the male narrator. I am aware Sarah no longer records Romance . . .’” Mark read with strong emphasis, “‘but June wanted her one more time for this ambitious and unique project and was prepared to compensate her handsomely.’”