Katrina huffs a laugh. “I guess so.” She looks past me, like she’d never contemplated the possibility. “When it’ll sell copies.”
“That’s an awful thing to say.” There’s no malice in my reply. The sadness of what she’s said is so huge it eclipses even the fact her fiancé said she could sleep with me. Because this is how it is with Katrina, my subconscious whispers to me. It’s not just Kat herself I find irresistible—her laughter, her eyes, her body. It’s this. It’s the impulses so much simpler, so much more innocent, so much more fundamental. To feel her wounds with her. To be there for her. To help her through. Even now, I couldn’t fight it if I tried. My first thought is for her.
Her expression closes up. “Yeah, well. It’s true.” She continues walking, like she’s decided this part of the conversation is over.
I follow her, thinking back to last night, when she touched me, when I had to fight down everything I wanted. She’s just revealed she has the type of relationship where I could do those things. I should be excited. Yet somehow, I’m not. Not while she’s unmistakably unhappy, and furthermore, the idea of sleeping with her, then sending her home to Los Angeles and Chris has me nowhere near excited.
I have to remind myself that while I know Chris’s feelings on the matter, I still don’t know Katrina’s. Surely, if she felt the way I did last night and knew she had permission from her fiancé to act on those feelings, she would have. She didn’t, though. I know what it means.
“We shut down the rumors. All of them.” I say decisively.
Katrina blinks, surprised. “And the book sales?”
“We’re writing a fucking good book,” I say. “It doesn’t need rumors about us to sell.”
She’s silent. Finally, she nods. “The truth, then. We tell them nothing ever happened between us.” Her voice gathers conviction, momentum. “And we split because . . . ?”
She’s right. We can’t tell the whole story.
“Because writing a book with someone is hard. We needed space,” I say. “That’s all.” It’s not all. But that piece of the truth is for us and no one else. If we’re ever going to confront what happened, it won’t be in front of a reporter. It won’t be to make our publisher happy or promote a book.
Katrina looks over, smiling slightly. “This is really going to piss Chris off.”
I don’t let myself laugh. “Does it bother you?”
Her smile doesn’t change. “No.”
34
Katrina
? FOUR YEARS EARLIER ?
His hand. His fingers near my lips. His eyes.
The thunderstorms haven’t subsided. I’m in bed, reading, diligently ignoring the feelings coursing through me. Except when I turn every page, in each split second, my memory transports me to the beach. To Nathan’s car. I replay the moment, envisioning every detail. His hand, gently brushing my cheek. His fingers, featherlight on my skin. His eyes, dipping down to my half-open lips. The way I hold my breath, waiting.
When he started the car, I was ashamed of my own disappointment. Nathan is married. I cannot want to kiss him. Repeating this to myself under the covers, I hardly notice the echoing roll of the thunder outside.
But I’m pulled from my thoughts by the whisper of paper on hardwood, cutting through the pattering rain. I get out of bed and find pages have been slid under my door.
I check the clock. It’s nearly two a.m. Wait, it’s nearly two a.m.? I’ve flipped pages and fended off memories for three hours? Regardless, the new pages confuse me. Nathan never writes this late into the night—he prefers to start each day well rested. What’s more, he never passes pages under the door. He just gives me scenes in the morning. He would’ve seen my light was on when he dropped these off. Why didn’t he just knock?
I pick up the strange, secretive packet. They’re warm, the edges freshly curled from the printer. It’s the best feeling. For a second, I can’t resist holding them to me, soaking in the heat.
Then my breath hitches when I realize what I’m holding. I read, lingering in front of my closed door, the words pulling me in. It’s the scene where Jessamine and Jordan have their first kiss.
Except in the outline, this scene doesn’t come until much further in the story. Nathan’s moved the kiss up into the scene we were stuck on. It’s an enormous deviation from the outline, which immediately has me wondering why he didn’t discuss the change with me first.