Copyright 2018 by Colleen Hoover

Mother. What the hell am I going to do now?
There’s a soft knock on the office door. I spin around, startled again. I can’t
deal with today. Jeremy is standing in the office entryway, looking at me with a
face full of empathy.
I left the door open when my phone rang. He probably heard that entire
conversation. I can tack mortified onto the list of adjectives that describe today.
I set my phone on Verity’s desk, then fall into her desk chair. “My life

---

wasn’t always this much of a hot mess.”
He laughs a little, stepping into the room. “Neither was mine.”
I appreciate that comment. I look down at my phone. “It’s fine,” I say,
spinning my phone around in a circle. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I can loan you money until your advance is processed through your agent.
I’ll have to pull it from our mutual fund, but it can be here in three days.”
I have never been this embarrassed, and I know he can see it because I
practically curl into myself as I lean forward on the desk and drop my face into
my hands.
“That’s really sweet, but I’m not taking a loan from you.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then chooses to take a seat on the couch. He sits
casually, leaning forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “Then stay here
until your advance hits your account. It’ll only be a week or two.” He looks
around the office, seeing how much progress I haven’t made since I arrived
yesterday. “We don’t mind. You aren’t in the way at all.”
I shake my head, but he interrupts.
“Lowen. This job you’ve taken on is not easy. I’d rather you spend too much
time in here prepping for it than get back to New York tomorrow and realize you
should have stayed longer.”
I do need more time. But two weeks in this house? With a woman who
scares me, a manuscript I shouldn’t be reading, and a man I know way too many
intimate details about?
It’s not a good idea. None of it is good.
I start to shake my head again, but he holds up a hand. “Stop being
considerate. Stop being embarrassed. Just say alright.”
I look past him, at all the boxes lining the walls behind him. The things I
haven’t even touched yet. And then I think about how, with two weeks in here, I
would have time to read every book in her backlist, make notes on each of them,
and possibly outline the three new ones.
I sigh, conceding with a little bit of relief. “Alright.”
He smiles a little, then stands up and walks toward the door.
“Thank you,” I say.
Jeremy turns back around and faces me. I wish I had let him walk out the
door, because I swear I can see a trace of regret in his expression. He opens his
mouth, like he wants to say, “You’re welcome,” or “No problem.” But he just
closes his mouth and forces a smile, and then shuts the door behind him when he
leaves.
•••

---

Jeremy told me earlier this afternoon that I needed to be outside before the sun
disappeared behind the mountains. “You’ll see why Verity wanted an
unobstructed view from her office.”
I brought one of her books with me to read on the back porch. There are
about ten chairs to choose from, so I take a seat at a patio table. Jeremy and
Crew are down by the water, tearing old pieces of wood out of their fishing
dock. It’s cute, watching Crew grab the pieces of wood Jeremy’s handing to him.
He carries them to a huge pile, then grabs another from his dad. Jeremy has to
wait for him each time, because it takes Crew longer to dispose of the wood than
it does for Jeremy to rip it out of the wooden frame. It proves how much
patience he has as a father.
He reminds me a little of my father. He died when I was nine, but I’m not
sure I ever saw him angry. Not even at my mother, with her prickly comments
and frequent hot temper. I grew to resent that about him, though. Sometimes I
perceived his patience as weakness when it came to her.
I watch Crew and Jeremy a little longer, in between attempts at finishing my
chapter. But I’m finding it hard to comprehend anything because Jeremy took
his shirt off a few minutes ago and, while I’ve seen him take his shirt off before,
I’ve never seen him without an undershirt. His skin is slick from the sweat he’s
worked up over the past two hours of being down at the dock. When he yanks at
the wood with the hammer, his muscles stretch across his back, and I
immediately recall the last chapter Verity wrote. There were so many intimate
details about their sex life, and from what I read, it was very active. More so
than any of my relationships have been.
It’s hard looking at him and not thinking about sex now. Not that I want to
have sex with him. And not that I don’t. It’s just that, as a writer, I know he was
her inspiration for several of the men in her books. And it makes me wonder if I
need to view him as my inspiration as I tackle the rest of this series. I mean…it’s
not the worst thing. Being forced to step into Verity’s shoes and visualize
Jeremy for the next twenty-four months as I write.
The back door slams shut, and I tear my eyes away from Jeremy. April is
standing on the patio, staring at me. Her gaze follows the path of mine, and then
she cuts her eyes back to me. She saw. She saw me eyeing my new boss.
Pathetic.
How long was she watching me stare at him? I want to cover my face with
this book, but instead, I smile like I was doing nothing wrong. I mean, I wasn’t.
“I’m heading out,” April says. “I put Verity in bed and turned on her
television. She’s had dinner and her meds, in case he asks.”

---

I don’t know why she’s telling me this, since I’m not in charge. “Okay. Have
a good night.”
She doesn’t tell me to have a good night in return. She walks back into the
house and lets the door fall shut again. A minute later, I hear the hum of her
engine as her car pulls out of the driveway, disappearing between the trees. I
glance back at Jeremy and Crew, and Jeremy is ripping up another piece of
wood.
Crew is staring at me, standing near the pile of discarded fishing dock. He
smiles and waves. I lift my hand to wave back, but curl my fingers into a soft fist
when I realize Crew isn’t waving at me. He’s looking above me, to the right.
He’s looking up at Verity’s bedroom window.
I spin around and look up, just as her bedroom curtain falls shut. I drop her
book onto the patio table, knocking over my bottle of water in the process. I
stand up and take three steps farther back to get a better look at the window, but
there’s no one there. My mouth falls open. I look back at Crew, but he’s
retreating back to the dock to grab another piece of wood from Jeremy.
I’m seeing things.
But why was he waving at her window? If she wasn’t there, why was he
waving?
It doesn’t make sense. If she was looking out her window, Crew would have
had a much bigger reaction, considering she hasn’t been able to speak or walk on
her own since her wreck.
Or maybe he doesn’t understand that his mother walking to her window
would be a miracle. He’s only five.
I look down at the book, now covered in water, and pick it up and shake the
liquid from it. I blow out an unsteady breath because it feels like I’ve been on
edge all day. I’m sure I’m still a little shaken from thinking she was staring at
me earlier, and that’s why I assumed I saw the curtain move.