“Hi, sweetheart,” Yolanda said, hugging Nick. “Where are you off to?”
“Hi. A party,” he said, distracted. “I’m sorry, excuse me.” He reached past Yolanda and pressed a button to make the doors close faster. Yolanda and Henry exchanged a glance.
“Are you all right, honey?” Yolanda asked. “You look quite anxious.”
“I have something really important to say to Lily, and I’ve never done something like this before, and I low-key wanna puke, but I’ve got this. I think.”
“Ah, the lady friend,” Yolanda said with a knowing smile. “If you are genuine and earnest, whatever you say will be well received.”
“Don’t worry,” Henry said. “You’re the man, remember?”
Nick let out a surprised laugh. He was definitely in need of a pep talk. He just hoped it had the same effect on him that his pep talk had on Henry months ago.
“Thank you,” Nick said, looking at both of them. He was thanking Henry for more than the pep talk, and he was thanking Yolanda for more than her advice. He planned to be around for a lot longer to show them how grateful he was that they’d welcomed him into their lives.
They wished him luck as he rushed out of the elevator through the lobby and hopped in a cab.
Now he was here at the party, and he thought he’d heard Lily call his name a second ago, but Zara thought Nick had arrived for a completely different reason.
“I, um, that’s not why—” Nick stumbled over his words, attempting to disentangle himself from Zara’s tight grasp.
“Mary!” Zara whispered loudly to a redhead in front of them. “N.R. Strickland is here. Nick, this is Mary. She’s your publicist!”
Mary turned around and gasped, causing the others in their vicinity to look at Nick too. “We have to get him to the podium!”
“Ah no, no. Wait,” Nick said, backing up.
“This is amazing. Everyone will be so excited,” Zara said, talking over him. “The head of our division basically made it seem like I ruined the party when I told her you weren’t coming. I was honestly afraid she might fire me.”
Shit. Nick could easily pull away from Zara and Mary, but how could he do that after what Zara just shared? He couldn’t leave her hanging.
He spared one more glance around the party, looking for Lily, but instead he spotted Marcus, cutting across the party toward him, sporting a puzzled expression at Nick’s presence.
They reached the podium, and Zara hurried to whisper something to a blonde-haired woman, who then rushed to the podium and whispered something into the ear of a tall, balding white guy who had been in the middle of telling everyone how this fall was going to be M&M’s best season yet.
The man paused and listened to the blonde woman. Then he flashed a surprised smile.
“Folks,” he said, turning back to the microphone. “We’ve got a real treat for you tonight. N.R. Strickland, the author of one of our major fall books, The Elves of Ceradon, is here after all.”
There was a collective gasp from the crowd, which was followed by a flurry of whispers.
Zara ushered Nick up to the podium, and the white guy eagerly shook Nick’s hand.
“So nice to meet you, Mr. Strickland,” he said. “I’m Vincent Meyer, the CEO of M&M. Thank you for joining us.”
Holy shit. The CEO?
“Nice to meet you too,” Nick managed to say. Then Vincent stepped aside and left the floor to Nick.
Nick stared out at the crowd. A sea of blurring faces waiting for him to speak. The Elves of Ceradon cover flashed on the screen behind him. He cleared his throat. Where was his special reserve of extrovert energy when he needed it?
He started to break out into a sweat. If only he’d had time to plan what he’d say. He noticed a few people holding up their phones, recording him. This would end up on the internet for everyone to see. Down in front, Zara gave him an encouraging thumbs-up, but looking at her made him feel only more pressure. He’d have to deliver, because that meant she would deliver too.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his erratic heartbeat.
And then he saw her.
Lily was on the outskirts of the crowd, staring back at him. And then it was like everyone else on the rooftop faded away. She smiled at him, soft and warm and so her. She nodded her head. It was all he’d needed. He could do this.
He leaned down toward the mic. “Hi,” he said, then immediately winced at the loud burst of feedback. “Uh, I’m N.R. Strickland. I wrote The Elves of Ceradon . . . which all of you know because Vincent just said that. I’m obviously not British, as you might have been told. I grew up in North Carolina eating barbecue and hot dogs and apple pie, and all the other stereotypical American foods.” There were a few chuckles, and that loosened him up. “Um, just to clear up some rumors, I’m not dead. I’m only one person, not multiple people. And I have spoken to Zara before, who is amazing, by the way.”