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She shrugged, half-heartedly. “I erase them when I can.”
“How…?” Sarai looked like she was going to be sick. “Why…?”
She took back her phone and set it face down so Sarai wouldn’t see her email inbox and pass out. “Most are condolences from when my father passed. The others are from nosy acquaintances or classmates who want to know about my inheritance or Roth if that’s started to make the rounds.”
She didn’t care for the considering look Sarai was giving her so she asked, “Do you want a cup of coffee? If you’re on Roth’s schedule, you can’t get much sleep.”
Sarai held up both hands. “No. I stay away from caffeine. The trick is to take cat naps. I just need a couple of hours here and there.”
Jasmine shook her head. “I couldn’t function like that.”
Sarai nodded sagely. “That makes sense. In your line of work, you use up every ounce of brain power. You use the left side of your brain for vocabulary, grammar, and story structure. The right side of your brain, the creative side, helps you build worlds, characters, and give them life. You soak in everything around you and funnel it into your work. Creativity burns a lot of energy. I can see the need for you to sleep more than most so you can recharge.”
She stared at Sarai for a full thirty seconds before she took another pull on her coffee. Very few knew what she did for a living, and she hadn’t come to terms with the fact that Sarai not only knew her occupation, but was a fan of her work. It was disconcerting to interact with a stranger who knew her so intimately. She wanted to avoid this, which is why she preferred the anonymity of pen names.
“I’ve never thought about it before,” she said as she set her cup down and wrapped her hands around it.
Sarai leaned forward.“So?”
“What?” she asked warily.
Sarai’s eyes flicked from her to Roth and then widened meaningfully.
“So, we’re married,” she said stonily.
Sarai rested her chin on her hands. “Tell me everything.”
Oh, God. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about, but it was just as imperative for Sarai to believe in the authenticity of their marriage as it was for her family. People talked. She glanced at Roth and wondered if this is why he brought her along. It would be odd for him to leave his bride behind mere days after he remarried her. Everyone would expect them to be joined at the hip. She looked back at Sarai, who had stars in her eyes. Sarai believed she had a hand in their reconciliation. Maybe she had. She wasn't sure what Roth thought of her work as Thalia Crane, and if it played a role in her current circumstances.
She held out her ring, distracting Sarai so she could muster up an appropriate amount of enthusiasm for what everyone would assume was a fairy-tale wedding. After Sarai fawned over her ring, she launched into an account of Daiyu's dress, her childhood home, and the simple ceremony by the lake. In the midst of her stilted tale, a plate of sausage and eggs arrived with a side of pancakes. She dug in while Sarai ate berries.
When she ran out of things to gush about, she came to an awkward halt. She hoped Sarai would be satisfied and switch her attention to her laptop. Unfortunately, Sarai steered the conversation back to her writing.
Some writers couldn’t shut up about their work. She wasn’t one of them. For her, writing was intensely private because she bared it all—the good, bad, and the ugly. She could afford to let it all hang out because the readers assumed the main character wasn’t a real person. Therefore, she could be as cunning, selfish, and sexual as she wanted to be and claim it was fiction. But Sarai knew her work under Thalia Crane was almost autobiographical. She felt like a deer in the headlights.
“The readers are going to freak out in book five.” Sarai bounced excitedly in her seat. “They always wanted you two to get back together.”
“I don’t know if I'll put that in the book.”
Sarai stopped bouncing. “Why not?”
She picked up her linen napkin and dabbed at the corner of her mouth as she chose her words carefully. “The series mirrors my life, but it doesn't follow me to the tee.” When Sarai opened her mouth, probably to ask for a detailed list on what she made up, she said, “Besides, I have other plans.”
“What’s better than a wedding?” Sarai asked loudly and then clapped a hand over her mouth when Roth stirred.
She could think of a dozen things better than a wedding, but she knew none of them would pacify Sarai or her readers. They were all looking for a fairytale ending. Fuck. She should have ended the series at book four after reconciling with her father. It would have made a statement to end the series without a man by her side.
Sarai leaned forward and whispered, “People are rooting for you two!”
She knew that better than anyone. Countless emails and messages from readers told her they believed her main characters, Rex and Juliet, were meant to be together. Unfortunately, she had given Roth’s character, Rex, extensive character development that hadn't translated to his real-life counterpart. She shot Roth a baleful look and resisted the urge to smother him with her linen napkin. He may pull the strings in real life, but she refused to let her character suffer the same fate as her. Juliet deserved a happy ending, even if Jasmine didn’t get one herself.
“We’ll see what happens,” she said.
Sarai opened her mouth to argue and then shrugged. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”
She narrowed her eyes at Sarai, who peered at her flashing cell phone. What the hell did that mean? Sarai wasn’t using reverse psychology on her, was she? Rex was a saint compared to the man who inspired him. She glanced at Roth, who looked menacing even when he was unconscious.
“He sleeps best in the air,” Sarai whispered. “I think it’s the white noise.”
