Page 41 of Modern Persuasion

It was Patrick's turn to scoff. "I say we start by getting her drunk! I recall that worked very well the first time."

I barely remember the details of the book tour when Emma wasn't there. It was like someone kept flicking a light off and on. Every time she walked into a room, I had to fight the urge to kiss her and hold her. I tried to focus on my job: read, respond to questions, sign autographs. I listened to her chant her little cuppa tea song each time she brought me tea. She remembered exactly what I liked and the way I liked it. She would sit in the crowd with Patrick and smile at me as if I was the center of the world. She would sit at dinners and go over the next day's plan with Patrick. Then she would be gone, and the light would go off again. She filled my fantasies at night as I dreamt of her. I woke up, sure I was feeling her lips on mine. I would roll over in bed, expecting to find her there. My morning fantasy was that she would be sprawled far away from me on the other side of these massive king-sized beds, but the tips of her fingers would be touching mine. It had been years since I had felt this way or thought of her this much, and it was torture.

My worlds collided the night of the benefit: Emma and Abby. Abby, like Emma, had wanted a life in New York. She hated LA and couldn't get away fast enough. I had sworn to myself that I would never live in New York as long as there was Emma in the world. I couldn't live in the same city as Emma knowing there was a chance I would run into her. The possibility of seeing her with another man, with her own family, or happy without me was too much. The reason Abby and I broke up was the reason I broke up with every other woman in the past eight years. None of them was the one woman I wanted.

By the time Abby arrived at the benefit, I was already immersed in Emma. She had touched me, fixed my tie, and called me Freddy. Her voice was the only one that made that nickname sound right. All I could smell were the cherry blossoms of her perfume. I could still feel where she had touched my face.

"This is my world," she said to me.

She was right. Our worlds were different. In hers, she went to library benefits, publishing conferences and ate out at classy restaurants all the time. In my world, I drank beer, sat naked in my house playing video games, got high with friends, ate junk food, and wrote. How could I have ever imagined we would end up together?

"I need to talk to you," Abby said to me when I got her away from Patrick and Emma.

"I'm sorry Patrick is being nasty. He thinks he is protecting me. What is it that you need to say?"

Abby kept looking back at Emma. "I'm sorry about how this is playing out in the press. The timing was a disaster, but I need to make sure you're ok. You don't have a good track record with rejection."

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes for a moment. "You need to back off. You made your decision, and I respect that. I have to deal with this my way."

Abby gestured toward the room. "You're at a party with Emma. I thought you hated her?"

"One, I'm here on a book tour, and, two, she is here professionally."

"You let her publish your book?"

"It's none of your business, but no. There was an emergency, and she was asked to take over."

I couldn't tell her the truth; that Emma had rejected my book like she had rejected me. At least she passed it on to someone else in the company.

Abby looked into my eyes. "She's not what I expected."

Abby may not look like Emma, but I had repeated the mistakes. Both had been clear about what they wanted, but I never walked away. I felt I could change their minds, but I was wrong. At least I wasn't really that in love with Abby.

I was never sure what to make of Louisa. I decided, after Los Angeles, that she's one of those women who flirts with everyone. It kept me sane. While Patrick entertained Emma, Louisa entertained me. Did she ever want more than a flirtation? I don't know, but as soon as we got to LA and met Seth, she was clear she was done with me. The LA stop of the tour was more intense than every other city. Emma showed up at every party. My friends adored her. Some even tried to seduce her. I was drunk and high at every party. That didn't shut out anything I was feeling. It amplified it. All these parties were for me, and I acted like an asshole. Sammy told me so after the first party. Once Patrick put Emma and Louisa into a cab, I went to a random, empty bedroom and fell on the bed. Sammy followed me in, the baby in her arms.

"You are the biggest asshole on the face of the planet," she said as she laid down next to me and put the baby between us.

"Language!" I said, giggling because I thought she was making a joke.

Sammy smacked my arm. "She's wonderful! How can you be so mean to her?"

It took me a moment to realize she was talking about Emma. "I wasn't being mean."

"She's still in love with you."

"Why does everyone think that?"

"I saw how she looked at you. She's barely holding herself together and full of regret. You, meanwhile, ignore her. You're high, drunk, and acting like a teenager."

"I'm coping."

"You told me you were coping by writing this book. Emma told me you wrote it before you even met her. What exactly did you write to cope with Abby?"

"I wrote crap after Abby."

"Are you writing now?" Sammy asked.

"Yes, but it's crap," I said, sitting up, not ready to tell her about this manuscript on my phone. "I can barely function on this tour."