Page 16 of A Bookish Story

“Not at all. It’s my reputation you’re saving.”

As if I would forget. I consider how much money a publisher can make off a deal like this, but I also realize it isn’t the publisher who cares whether or not Ryan reveals he’s Elizabeth. Even negative publicity sells books though it isn’t the best path to a long-lasting career. I assume this is solely about Ryan’s publisher not wanting to be at the apex of what might become a huge conflict among readers and other romance authors if the discovery is made that the man who disparaged the whole genre in that video is the author of their new bestselling romance. It is vitally important that no link between Ryan and Elizabeth ever be made.

Might as well go for broke. “Do you think you can introduce me to your publisher, or agent?”

“I can’t promise you anything in the outcome, but I’ll introduce you to some people in publishing. The rest will be up to you.”

“I can’t ask for more than that.”

“I’ll tell my agent, Kate. We’ll work up an agreement. You’ve made my day. No, my year.” Ryan offers his hand.

I shake his warm, strong hand, surprised by the strength, and together we solidify this deal. On a handshake.

“I think it will be fun.”

“Fun.” He says the word as though it’s foreign. “I guess it could be.”

“Of course! Haven’t you ever pretended to be someone you’re not?”

He rubs his temples. “Yes. That’s the point.”

I’m about to ask him why he picked a woman’s name for a pen name when someone knocks and I see Eddie is at my door. I’ve never called him Tio Eddie or Uncle Eddie. He’s just plain Eddie, my father’s oldest brother and the one he was closest to. After my father died, he easily took over the role of pseudo-papi. Single, he’s never had any children of his own and his nieces and nephews are like his own kids. He’ll walk through fire for any one of us.

And there are a lot of us.

“Mija!” He opens his arms wide, his expression tender. “Guess what? It’s Satur-yay!”

I go into his arms and accept the loud smoochy kisses he lays on first one cheek, then the other.

“Ah ha,” he says, noticing I have company. “And who are you?”

“Ryan Brady, sir.” Ryan offers his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Eddie does what he always does, whether he’s known you for a lifetime or two minutes. He grabs a hold of Ryan’s shoulders and plants a kiss on each of Ryan’s cheeks. It’s a European thing, but also big in Puerto Rico, and Eddie lived there pretty much the entire time my parents were married.

Still, take it from me, American men are not used to the kissing thing. Chris couldn’t stop talking about it for days.

“Your uncle kissed me! What’s up with that? My father has never even kissed me. It’s just…weird.”

One more thing I won’t miss about Chris. I smile, hoping by now he’s been kissed by many men in South America. They are going to be grateful for all those orphanages he and the Peace Corps are building.

“He’s my employer,” I say to Eddie, giving Ryan an apologetic smile.

“It’s good that you’re both here.” Eddie turns to me. “We’re having a party tonight.”

I moan. “No, Eddie. No.”

“Just a little one. I invited everyone!”

“Why won’t you believe me? I’m fine!”

“Ay dios mio, no. Does she look fine?” Eddie, hands on both of my shoulders, twirls me to face Ryan.

It’s been six months, but my family behaves as if I’m still heartbroken over Chris and they must be the ones to save me.

“You’re right.” Ryan appraises me, eyes lingering on the holes in my pants. “She does not look fine.”

“What do you expect when her fiancé abandoned her? The wedding is off! He never deserved her. Nunca.” Eddie’s hand makes a dramatic slash through the air.