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“So what did you do?”
She shrugs. “I wrote another one. And then one more by the time I was twenty-five. Gram was retired at that point and kind of made it her special project to find me an agent and help me get published.”
It’s clear how much Maggie and Gwen love each other, and their bond was probably strengthened by Maggie’s support for Gwen.
“I feel like I’ve been a disappointment to my parents for years. I wrote a bestseller, and that wasn’t even good enough for them. Because if I was going to write, it should at least be something important.”
“I’m sorry, Gwen. That sucks.”
She fiddles with the ring on her finger. “It does.” The hole she’s chewing through her bottom lip indicates her desire to move the subject away from her parents.
“These books, though… the ones you wrote when you were younger. Would I have heard of them?”
“You might be a little old for them. But have you heard of Geri Wencep? The ‘Griffin Academy’ series?”
“Yeah. The books about the three friends who snuck into the all-boys school, right? With all the mythological creatures?” I take a sip of water to fight the dryness in my mouth; I want to shake the sudden flashback of the Book Brawl, as the local paper called it, out of my mind.
She sits back, nodding, and it’s clear she’s impressed from the way her eyes light up. “Well, that’s my pen name. It’s an anagram for Gwen Pierce. But those were my books.” She’s beaming. So much pride. “I got into romance more recently. But when I first started out I wanted to tell big, fantastic stories and create these bad-ass girls who could overcome any obstacle thrown at them. There’s forever a spot in my heart for Daisy, Ashton, and—”
“Parker.”
She looks at me, eyes dancing. “Parker. Yeah. Did you read them?”
“Gwen,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. The room spins, and I grip the edge of the table to try to steady myself, despite my chair legs being rooted to the floor. “I lost everything because of those books.”
It takes a moment, but realization crosses her face, draining the color from it. “Shit. Sawyer, I—I didn’t—” She leans forward and places one of her hands on mine. “I’m so sorry,” she says.
I’m not sure if it’s because of the coincidence itself, or if it’s the fact that this probably should be the worst date I’ve ever had because of that coincidence but still isn’t the worst date I’ve ever had, but I start laughing. Hard. Which makes her start laughing after a healthy pause of stunned silence, and soon our main courses are in front of us and our waiter looks very concerned for our mental well-being.
“Did I tell you he broke my nose? He’s trying to sue the district and make me basically unemployable because I separated him from another teacher, and he broke my nose and nothing happened to him.” Suddenly this doesn’t feel so funny anymore. It feels heavy and hard, and I press the heels of my palms to my eyes.
Just as suddenly, there are arms around my waist and a head against my shoulder, and a quiet voice telling me it’s okay. And I know she doesn’t mean ‘it’s going to be okay, so buck up, buddy.’ She means ‘it’s okay to cry if you want to, so let it out; you deserve to have these emotions.’
Once I’ve got my breathing under control, I say, “Don’t talk to Nan about this, okay? She doesn’t know all the details.”
“I think she knows more than you give her credit for.”
I turn my head, and her big blue eyes are staring into mine. “How much did she tell you? And when?”
“A lot. When you were flirting with Gram after our massages.” She loosens her grip. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Granted.” I take a sip of champagne to give my mouth something to focus on other than frowning, and Gwen slides back into her seat.
“Chelsea sounds awful.”
I nearly spit out my drink.
“With what she did to you after the incident, it doesn’t seem like she ever really appreciated you. You deserve to be appreciated, Sawyer.”
“And what about you?”
Her eyes move between mine. “What about me?”
“What do you deserve, Gwen?”
She bites her lip, and I can see so many thoughts flash across her expression. Which Gwen will win: witty Gwen? spicy Gwen? Neither: it’s genu-Gwen, all warmth and kindness. “I’m still working on figuring that out,” she says. “But I know one thing, Sawyer.”
“What’s that?”
