“Always a possibility,” she said. “People do love giant CGI reptilians.”

  “And two.” My cheeks stung as the emotion threatened to overwhelm me. I swallowed, holding back the tide. “I only exist because of the show.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “It is,” I said. “The only reason anyone knows anything about me or my books is because The Saga is such a massive hit. What I put in this book is inconsequential. Maybe a fifth of the show’s audience will ever read it. Whatever the show does will be canon.” I blinked. “If they go ahead without me and create their own dragon-filled storyline and ending, I’ll still get blamed for it. I am The Saga, and The Saga is me. I am intrinsically linked to what’s on that screen.”

  She looked toward the kitchen window, thinking. “I think we can spin this,” she said. “The creative differences thing, we can use that to our advantage. They already know you’re unhappy with how the show has adapted your books. We could make you look like the artist with principles—”

  “More realistically I’d look like the jerk who couldn’t play nicely with others. You’re not brand new to this game. You know how these things go. You saw the reaction to my video.”

  She patted the computer. “I also know that if you put your name on this, you’re going to regret it.”

  That was a risk I’d have to take. Artists sold out all the time. My situation wasn’t unique. It wasn’t even interesting. I stood, picked up my laptop, and headed toward the kitchen door. “Better get to work,” I said. “This trash isn’t going to write itself.”

  Jane glanced around the room. “Wait,” she said. “You didn’t say. What happened to Dani?”

  “Oh.” The pit returned to my gut. “I told her that her services were no longer needed.”

  Jane rubbed her temples. “You what?”

  “I had to let her go,” I said. “She was distracting me.”

  Jane took a few deep breaths. “I’m really struggling to bite my tongue here, Matt.”

  “Matt?” I asked.

  “Yes, Matt,” Jane said, straightening her shoulders.

  “Well, say it, then,” I said. “When have you ever minced words with me?”

  She composed herself for a moment. “No,” she said. “Not today. You’re under enough pressure as it is.”

  I pivoted to leave the room.

  “You wrote an entire manuscript you were proud of while carrying on with her,” Jane said. “She wasn’t a distraction. Having her around inspired you. She was your muse.”

  Without turning back to Jane, I nodded toward the counter. “There’s an envelope there with some money for Dani. Can you give it to her when you get a chance? I tried to last night, but she threw it back in my face.”

  Jane hesitated for a moment but finally said, “Of course, Mr. Bradford.”

  “Thanks.” I trudged back upstairs to spend the rest of the day in this universe I’d created, with these characters I was starting to despise.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dani

  “But don’t you ever get sick of watching what you eat?” I shoved another creampuff in my mouth.

  Fred bit into a baby carrot and moaned like it was a rich, flourless chocolate cake and not a dry, unseasoned vegetable. “Not really,” he said. “Food is fuel. That’s how I look at things these days. I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life.” He pointed to the slice of apple cranberry pie on my plate. “That’s going to sit like lead in your gut.”

  I scooped up a big forkful of it, out of spite, as I glanced around the room, the big, airy ballroom at the owners’ club, where the Wackernagel Resort & Spa was hosting its annual Christmas party. I had been planning on attending with my family, but after Matt simultaneously fired me and broke up with me, I texted Fred and asked him on a second date.

  This may have been a hastily considered mistake.

  I held my now empty plate aloft. “I’m going to check out some more food.”

  “Sounds good.” He waved to Una across the room and headed over to talk to her. She, too, was holding a plate full of veggies, so they’d probably have a lot to discuss.

  Gerald hovered near the door of the kitchen, barking orders at the wait staff. I made my way over to him. “Hi, Gerald.”

  “Dani, hi.” He caught the attention of a passing server and pointed her in the direction of a buffet table. “Those cookies need to be consolidated.”

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  He rubbed his temples. “A nightmare,” he said. “I had to bring in food from some of the restaurants in town, so I’ve been dealing with a dozen finnicky chefs, instead of just one.” He paused. “How’s the food for the premiere coming?”

  “Well,” I said, “we’re in good shape for tomorrow.” After my fight with Matt, I went back this morning to pick up all of the ingredients and equipment I needed. Instead of cooking in Matt’s huge kitchen with all the counter space and the double oven, I was making do in my mom and dad’s tiny one.

  “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Have you given any more thought to featuring M.C. Bradford in your pics of the party tomorrow?”

  Well, that would actually be impossible now. Matt wasn’t going to the party. He’d gotten what he wanted, and I had to disappoint Gerald. “It’s definitely a no-go,” I said. “I won’t even ask him.” Even though I knew Gerald was right, that getting Matt on my account would be a huge boon for me, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t betray him after all we’d been through.

  That said, not everyone had the same hang-ups that Matt did. Other people were able to balance their fame and their privacy without letting it get the best of them. “I’d be willing to talk to the other people at the party, though. I think some of the actors will be there, and the showrunners definitely will be…”

  “Great.” Gerald beamed. “Who needs M.C. Bradford?”

  I lifted my glass to him. “Who indeed?” I took a sip of my champagne and glanced around the room. Jane had just come in with some friends. She spotted me and immediately made a beeline my way.

  “Dani,” she said, “I’m glad you’re here. How are you?”

  I responded by downing the rest of my champagne.

  “I don’t know what happened last night,” she said. “But I’m sure whatever it was, you and Mr. Bradford can move past it.”

  I could not envision myself “moving past” him breaking up with me before shoving a wad of cash into my hands like it was payment for services rendered.

  Jane sighed. “For the past few months, he’d been trying and failing to write—he’d been overthinking things. And then you came along, and honestly, I did worry at first you’d be yet another roadblock.” She bit her lip. “But I think, oddly, you were the inspiration he needed. When you were around, he started working more efficiently and writing better—I read the manuscript he turned in, and it was some of his best work.”

  “Jane,” I said, “what do you need?”

  “I need you to talk to him.”

  I started to walk away.

  “Wait.” She gently touched my arm for a split second before pulling her hand back like she’d been burned. “He’s about to make a huge career blunder, and I think you’re the only one who can talk any sense into him. You’re kind of his muse.”

  Flushing, I rolled my eyes. Muse. That was some fanciful bologna. Muses didn’t exist. “He called me a distraction and told me not to come back.”

  “He didn’t mean it,” she said.

  “Oh, he seemed pretty certain.” I’d been playing that scene in my head since last night. His career trumped everything else in his life, and my presence stood in the way of that. Our relationship was always going to end, and he simply pulled the plug on it a little early. “I’m not going to be the chump who sticks her nose where she’s obviously not wanted.”

  Jane, always the consummate professional, straightened up, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll deal with it.” She looked right at me, eyes hard and resolved. “At least you’re making the food for the party tomorrow, right? That has to go well for him. He’s already throwing away his career by selling out his book. I can’t have him screwing up with his party guests, too.”

  A massive winged bird, maybe a vulture, took flight in my stomach. “Jane, I have to tell you something.”

  “He fired you from the premiere, too, didn’t he?” She muttered, “That probably never even occurred to him when he sent you away.” She shook her head, eyebrows raised. She was talking to herself now. “Because why would he? I have to think of everything.”

  “No, no,” I said. “That’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?” Her eyes sparkled with tears. Jane was about to lose it. I’d never seen her look so vulnerable. Heck, I’d never seen Jane look anything other than utterly put-together and on top of things.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her about his new plan to ditch the party. She had enough on her plate. Hopefully, he’d come to his senses on his own. “I think…” I said, searching for some other problem. “I think we may have to rethink the beef tenderloin sandwiches. I’m not sure I’ll have enough meat.”

  Jane let out a sigh. “That’s fine. Make whatever you can make. People will deal.” She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “I’ve been planning this event for months, ever since that godforsaken video.” She shook her head, the tears threatening to spill over. “First his publicist said, ‘Let’s do a little dinner in Indianapolis.’ I was, like, ‘Great.’ But then Matt decided to rent this house, and his publicist found out about it. She said, ‘This is superb! Let’s get everyone to come to Wackernagel; we can make it a combo holiday/premiere party,’ so I’ve been working like a busy little ant since October to convince the actors and as many studio people as I could to travel here, to this tiny, godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere to hang out in Mr. Bradford’s rental house right before Christmas.” Her eyes bugged out. “Do you even know how difficult it is to get people here, I mean, logistically?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t going to interrupt her flow.

  “I mean, first you have to convince them, and then you have to physically get them here.” I seriously thought her eyes were going to pop out of her skull and land on the floor. “I have people flying into Chicago and Des Moines today and then luxury buses transporting them here to the resort and to the various houses where they’ll be staying for the next few nights. I had to come up with gift baskets and itineraries.” She paused to take a breath. “Meanwhile, he’s back at the house writing the worst drivel of his professional life—”

  “Jane,” I cut her off, worried her head would explode if I didn’t. “You’re doing great. The party is going to be a huge success.” Assuming its host decided to make an appearance.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.” She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope, the one Matt had tried to give me yesterday. I balked. I didn’t need his charity. “Please, Dani,” she said. “Take it. You’ve earned it.”

  I shook my head and told her, “No thanks.”

  …

  Matt

  December 23rd, three days past deadline

  I pulled my noise-canceling headphones over my ears and turned up the volume on the movie soundtrack I had been listening to for inspiration. I’d snuck out for a run while I let Jane deal with Dave, Kevin, and the rest back at the house.

  I’d armed her with the newly edited first quarter of the manuscript—complete with dragons—while I got the hell out of the house.

  About halfway down Stagecoach Run, Jane texted me. “They love the changes.”

  Crap. Of course they did.

  I slowed as I approached Linda’s house. For two days, I’d been holed up in my office by myself, not talking to anyone, and it was lonely. For the past six months or so, ever since the Comic Con fiasco, I’d lived a very reclusive life, and that worked for me. But then I moved here and started talking to Linda, and then, of course there was Dani…

  Fighting back tears that I attempted to play off as my eyes’ reaction to the cold, I grinned big as Linda rushed out of her house and across her lawn, carrying a red and green pastry box. “I have cookies,” she shouted, waving her arm.

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

  She handed me the box, and I peeked inside. “What are these?”

  “Pecan crescents.”

  “They smell delicious,” I told her. “Thank you.”

  “How have you been?” she asked. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

  “I’ve been busy.” I bit into one of the dry, crumbly cookies and choked down a tough swallow. “Revisions.”

  “You finished the book, then?”

  “Well, yeah. Sort of.” I checked out her house, which, over the course of the past few weeks, had become quite the winter wonderland, decorated with lights and garlands and holly and, naturally, the classy wicker reindeer. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.” She perked up, no doubt anxious and eager for M.C. Bradford to pick her brain.

  “What do you think about dragons?”

  “In general?”

  “In The Bastyan Saga.” I snuck another nibble of the cookie.

  “Well…” Linda appeared deep in thought. “I’d never really considered it. The books seem so real, and whenever people talk about dragons in the story, it always feels like a myth, like Santa Claus or ghosts.”

  I nodded, taking in her opinion. “What if the show or the books suddenly had dragons, like if one of the main characters came flying in on one?”

  She wrinkled up her nose. “I’d probably assume somebody sold out.” She chuckled.

  My chest tightened. “Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”

  The phone in my pocket buzzed. Probably Jane again with more bad news disguised as good. I checked the text, and it wasn’t from Jane. It was from Dani. My heart skipped a beat.

  “Hey,” she said. “Sorry to bother you, and I know it’s not my business, but I really think you should go to the premiere party. Jane has worked very hard, and you’d be letting her down. I’ll stay in the kitchen. You won’t even know I’m there.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair.

  “Everything okay?” Linda asked.

  “Yeah,” I lied. Everything wasn’t fine. I was eating subpar cookies while selling out my life’s work. And I’d sent away the one person I cared about most in order to do that. I raised the box of cookies to Linda. “Thank you for these.”

  “You’re welcome, Matt.” She grinned. “We’ll be watching the show tonight.”

  “Me, too,” I told her.

  I headed back the way I came, toward Dani’s house and mine, and I viewed my surroundings with fresh eyes. I’d only been here for a few weeks, but I felt more comfortable in this odd little resort town than I had anywhere else in recent years. Maybe I’d simply needed a fresh perspective, or maybe there was more to it than that.

  I paused in front of the house on the other side of Dani’s parents’ place, the one with the “For Sale” sign. I snuck down the dark driveway and up onto the long front porch. I could put a swing out here. I’d always wanted one of those. My house in Indy didn’t have a spot for a swing. I peered into the front window. A large living room bled into a big, open kitchen. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall, allowing for an unobstructed view of the forest beyond.

  Dani would love that kitchen. She could cook and bake while I worked at a desk in the corner on a manuscript for a brand-new series. Or not. After I closed out The Bastyan Saga, I’d only have to write if I wanted to. I could spend most of my time however I wanted—like doing projects around the house, the kind of stuff I never had time for in the past, such as building a fire pit in the back yard or weatherproofing my very own deck. At night, Dani and I could cuddle on the couch together, and I’d make her watch every single episode of The Simpsons. Okay, maybe we’d just stop after season thirteen or fourteen.

  We could be happy here.

  Or, well, we could’ve been.

  I pulled out my phone again and reread her text. “You’re right,” I responded. “I should go.”

  I held my finger over the send button and hesitated. Then I typed, “I’m sorry and I miss you.”

  Again, I debated whether or not to send it.

  No. I deleted the whole message. We’d already said everything that needed to be said. I’d hurt her, and it was time for both of us to move on.

  I ran the rest of the way home and snuck into the house, which was full of people working and setting up for the party. The scent of vanilla and sugar permeated the place, and part of me longed to rush into the kitchen to apologize to Dani, but what would it matter? I was the guy who’d fired her and tried to hand her an envelope of cash.

  Still, though I’d ruined everything with Dani, I could attempt to fix my professional life.

  I knocked on Jane’s office door and let myself in. She, Dave, Kevin, and everyone else were sprawled around the room, on the bed and the floor.

  “Matty!” Kevin jumped up and gave me a hug.

  “Hey,” I said, sheepishly. I hadn’t been in the same physical room with these people since the video. “Thank you all for coming out here for the party.”

  “We’re glad to be here.” Dave held up his phone. “We’ve been talking through the new pages, Matt. They’re great.” His face turned serious. “Thank you for trusting us and our ideas.”

  I took a deep breath. “I do trust you,” I said. “I know the Comic Con video doesn’t back that up—”

  Dave cut me off. “You were drunk, and the guy who posted it is trash.”

  “Maybe so, but I still said it.” I glanced at Kristin. “It’s like Kristin said, this series belongs to all of us. I sometimes forget that, or I used to.”

 

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