Page 29 of The Write Midlife

"Now we handle it with burpees and protein shakes," Nate observed. "Is this what they call personal growth?"

"I think they call it middle age." Alex accepted his green concoction from the barista. "But seriously, Nate. What are your Melody plans?”

Nate took a long sip of his shake, the pieces finally falling into place. "I'm going to fight for her. For her book, her vision, all of it. Even if it means going against everything I've been groomed for."

"That's my boy." Alex raised his cup in a toast. "To fighting the good fight.”

"To fighting the good fight,” Nate echoed. "And to hoping I can still move tomorrow."

As they headed out into the early morning light, Nate felt clearer than he had in days. Maybe it was the endorphins, or maybe it was finally admitting what he wanted—what he needed—to do.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Melody's contact. It was too early to call, but he could at least text.

"Working on fixing things," he typed. "May need a wheelchair after this morning's CrossFit session, but my heart's in the right place."

He hit send before he could overthink it, then turned to Alex. "Think she'll give me another chance?"

Alex grinned, already walking toward his car. "If she's as smart as you say she is? She'll at least enjoy watching you grovel. Try to work those sore muscles to your advantage—nothing says 'I'm sorry' like a grown man who can barely sit down."

Nate laughed, and his abdomen muscles ached as soon as he did. For once today, he didn’t give a shit. Whatever happened next, at least he was finally being honest—with himself, with Melody, with everyone.

Now he just had to hope it wasn't too late to fix the mess he had made. And that he would be able to climb stairs again sometime this week.

FIFTEEN

Melody paced her apartment,her feet nearly burning a hole in the carpet, her mind replaying her argument with Nate on an endless loop. The nerve of that man! Trying to sell her on some soulless ghostwriting deal like she was just another cog in his corporate machine. She grabbed her phone, desperate for a sympathetic ear.

"Hannah? You're not going to believe what just happened," she blurted out as soon as her friend answered.

"Mel? What's wrong? Did you finally realize that kale isn't actually food?"

Despite her anger, a chuckle escaped Melody. "No, worse. Remember Nate? Mr. Hot-Shot Editor with the blue eyes and the...never mind. He tried to push this ridiculous ghostwriting deal on me."

"Ghostwriting? Like Casper the Friendly Author?"

Melody rolled her eyes, flopping onto her couch. "More like Melody the Corporate Sellout. They want me to write cookie-cutter romances under a pen name. Can you believe it?"

"Wow," Hannah said, her voice turning serious. "That's... actually kind of flattering, isn't it? I mean, they must really believe in your talent."

Melody sat up, indignant. "Flattering? Hannah, they want to strip away everything that makes my writing unique! It's like asking Picasso to paint by numbers."

"Okay, okay," Hannah soothed. "I get it. It's not your style. But Mel, maybe there's a compromise here? A way to reach a wider audience without completely selling out?"

Melody opened her mouth to argue, but a knock at her door interrupted her. "Hold on, Han. Someone's at the door."

She peered through the peephole and nearly dropped her phone in shock. Standing in the hallway, looking every inch the publishing royalty she was, was Elizabeth Carlisle. Nate's mother.

"Hannah, I'm going to have to call you back," she whispered. "You're not going to believe who's at my door."

She hung up before Hannah could respond and took a deep breath, smoothing down her hair. Here goes nothing.

Melody opened the door, plastering on what she hoped was a polite smile. "Mrs. Carlisle. This is... unexpected."

Elizabeth Carlisle smiled warmly, and Melody was struck by how much Nate resembled her. "Melody, dear. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. May I come in?"

Melody stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. Her mind raced, trying to figure out why Elizabeth was there. Had Nate sent her to smooth things over? Or was this some kind of power play?

"Can I offer you some tea?" Melody asked, falling back on ingrained politeness.