Page 6 of Unexpected You

Camille had been on me for years to get a pet, at least, but since I traveled so much, that didn’t seem fair, even though I could afford to have someone (or one of Camille’s children) come and tend to it while I was away.

My home was filled with all the things I loved, and there wasn’t one corner that I didn’t like, but my office was my favorite place. In addition to the movie posters and dozens of foreign copies and the shelves of my awards, my desk had been custom made to look like four of my bestselling books stacked on top of one another. I’d commissioned it years ago and I still got a little thrill when I walked into the room and saw the titles and my name painted in gold on the spines.

I made myself a quick chicken and pasta dinner with a salad and organized my evening. I had two episodes of my favorite show saved, and a new advanced copy of a book that I needed to read and give a blurb to already loaded on my ereader. Most days it was a huge relief to read a book written by someone else.

In between the first episode and starting the second, I put on a hair mask and emptied the dishwasher.

Camille sent me a video of the kids playing board games together and fighting and it made me laugh and smile.

After my second show episode, I put on some music and started on the advanced copy. It was still astonishing to me that when I heard about a new book that wasn’t published yet, more often than not, I could just ask Sylvia and almost immediately there would be an electronic copy in my inbox. It was one of the greatest perks of being a bestselling author. In addition to the money, of course.

My family had been constantly broke and on the verge of homelessness when I’d been growing up, so as soon as I turned eighteen, I was out on my own and making sure I never felt that way again. I’d worked my ass off doing any kinds of jobs I could find, put myself through college, and wrote instead of sleeping. There was no room for failure, no margin for error. I’d lived that way ever since.

I’d said before in interviews that books saved my life, and it was the truth.

When I started falling asleep on the couch with the book, I knew it was time to head to bed. I took my vitamins and turned out the lights and waited for sleep to take me away.

It didn’t come for me immediately. Most nights I didn’t have that much trouble falling asleep, thanks to my rigid routines. Tonight, though, my routines were failing me.

For some reason my mind drifted back to the interview. To Cadence. Obviously, I’d done a full background check on her, which included a perusal of her social media to look for any red flags. Most of the time I just read the reports and didn’t actually look anything up, but this time, for some reason, I’d searched for Cadence.

Her social pages were as expected, including the pictures of her with her friends, showing off an arm covered in floral tattoos. I didn’t have any of my own, but I wasn’t against them. They worked for her. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she’d worn a jacket to cover them for the interview. It also hadn’t escaped my notice that she was even prettier in person. I’d always been jealous of women with red hair, but I knew I could never pull it off. I dyed my hair a few shades darker than my natural color and had for many years. I had a signature look and I wasn’t ashamed of it.

Her hair had been pulled back and tamed, but I knew from her pictures that she usually wore it messier. With the flower tattoos and the hair and all those freckles, she looked like she escaped from the fae as a baby. She certainly had a magical quality about her.

Eventually I got to sleep, but it was a long time coming as I replayed the interview over and over.

Chapter Three

Cadence

Holy shit. I didn’t believe it when I read the email, but there it was. Eloise Roth had sent me the NDA as well as a brusque congratulatory message that said she was hiring me on a trial basis for a month. So I didn’t have the job yet, but I had a trial, which was so much more than I expected.

The quick acceptance sent up all kinds of red flags. Because she should not have hired me and should have rejected me immediately. Her agreeing to let me have a trial period meant that she was having a hard time finding someone and that wasn’t good for me.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I said as I re-read the email and then dove into the NDA. About five minutes later, my eyes blurred at all the legalese and I sent Hunter a message begging for help. Her parents both had law degrees and were willing to do favors if she asked nicely. She got back to me right away and said she’d have her parents’ answers within a few hours.

Eloise had also sent over another attachment. A schedule. My eyes blurred again as I looked through it. This woman loved a spreadsheet. A feeling of panic set in for a second as I thought about my role in maintaining that schedule.

For my ADHD brain, schedules could be good or bad, and I never knew which one I was going to get. I thrived on novelty, but also needed a framework so I didn’t go completely off the rails and spend an entire week reading twenty books in a row and barely eating or sleeping like I had the last time I’d been in between jobs. I’d been on medication off and on throughout my life, but right now with medication somewhat difficult to get consistently, I was trying to manage in other ways. Some days were better than others.

On second look, Eloise’s schedule didn’t seem that bad. She’d put in her writing time, her admin time, and everything else. Then there was my schedule, with my hours and tasks. During the interview, she’d spoken about what I’d be doing day-to-day. Some days I’d be at her house, helping her, and other days I was free to work from home. That I would definitely not be doing because if there was an enemy of productivity, it was me attempting to do work at home.

Yeah, I could do this. Probably. Plus, I couldn’t really turn down the pay, which was higher than anything else I could get, even bartending. I almost wanted to point out to Eloise that her pay rate was wildly high, but if she was willing to give it to me, then who was I to enlighten her?

I’d put up with a lot for that hourly rate. Even if I just lasted the month, I’d still be coming out better than I was now, at least financially.

I thought about telling my parents about the job, but it was so much easier to just…not. My parents were sweet and naive and didn’t know the realities of my life. Even when things went to shit, I kept our conversations light and didn’t confide my troubles. They couldn’t handle it. Never had been able to. I’d learned at an early age that the adults who raised me needed to be protected from the bad things in the world, and since I was the oldest, it was my responsibility.

I’d tell them once I’d gotten through the trial period. If I did.

Instead, I sent a message to my sister, Melody, who was three years younger than me and lived on the other side of the country working at an art gallery after she’d gotten her degree in ceramics. She did pottery on the side that she sold online as well, and I was so damn proud of her talent.

Somehow got offered a job as an assistant to a famous author. No, I’m not going to tell you who, but if I manage to outlast the trial period, this could really be something I sent.

Her response was immediate. OMG, that’s so great! Of course you had to brag that it’s someone famous and then refuse to tell me. Don’t worry, I’ll put my research skills to use.

She would probably figure out it was Eloise in the next five minutes but that didn’t mean I had to confirm. Plus, I technically hadn’t signed the NDA, so I wasn’t in breach of anything. Yet.