Whiskey Beach Part 98

"Done."

It actually hurt to carry it away from the others. To offset the downer, he swung into his office.

She'd tell him it was good, he thought as he tried to decide what scene to give her. She'd lie.

He didn't want her to lie. He wanted it to be good.

Oddly, he realized that he knew just the scene for her to read-one where he could use her feedback.

He scrolled through his ma.n.u.script, found the pages. Before he could change his mind, he printed them out.

"Don't be a p.u.s.s.y," he ordered himself, and took them and the tie downstairs.

She sat at the counter, one bare foot rubbing the flank of the dog that sprawled on the floor. And wore gla.s.ses with bold orange frames.

"You wear gla.s.ses."

She pulled them off like a dirty little secret. "Sometimes, for reading. Especially when the print's small. Some of this is really small."

"Put them back on."

"I'm vain. I can't help it."

He set the pages aside, took the gla.s.ses, slid them back on her nose. "You look cute."

"I thought going for punchy frames would make a difference, but I'm still vain, and still hate wearing them. Just for reading sometimes, and sometimes when I'm making jewelry."

"The things you learn. Really cute."

She rolled her eyes behind the lenses, then took the gla.s.ses off again when she spotted the tie. "Nice," she said, taking it from him. Then wiggled her eyebrows when she saw the label. "Hermes. Very nice. The ladies at the consignment shop are going to be very pleased."

"Consignment shop?"

"I can't just toss it. Somebody can use it."

He looked at it as she hopped up to tuck it into her bag. "Can I buy it back?"

With a laugh, she shook her head. "You won't miss it. Is that for me?" She gestured toward the printout.

"Yeah. One scene, it's just a couple of pages. I figured I'd get it all over with at once. Like ripping off a bandage."

"It's not going to hurt."

"It already does. I don't want you to lie to me."

"Why would I lie to you?"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the pages as she reached for them. "You're a born nurturer, and you're sleeping with me. It goes against the grain for you to hurt anyone's feelings. You won't hurt my feelings. And that's a lie. But I need to know if it works, or if it doesn't, even if it hurts."

"I won't lie to you." She wiggled her fingers for the pages. "Take your mind off what I'm doing and load the dishwasher."

She propped her feet on the second stool and, since they were right there, put on her gla.s.ses. After peering at him over the pages, giving him a shooing gesture, she picked up the half gla.s.s of wine she'd been nursing. And read.

She read it twice, saying nothing as dishes rattled and water ran in the sink.

Then she set the pages aside, took off her gla.s.ses so he could see her eyes clearly.

She smiled.

"I would've lied a little. The kind of thing I consider a soft lie, because it's like a cushion, it gives a soft landing to both parties."

"A soft lie."

"Yeah. I can usually manage those guilt-free. But I'm really glad I don't have to lie, even with a soft one. You gave me a love scene."

"Well, yeah. There was a reason. I haven't written many of them. Could be a weak spot."

"It's not. It's s.e.xy and it's romantic, and more, you showed me what they're feeling." She laid a hand on her heart. "I know he's bruised, here again," she said, tapping her hand. "She wants to reach him, and she so much wants him to reach her. I don't know all the reasons, but I know this moment mattered to both of them. It's not a weak spot."

"He didn't expect to find her. I didn't expect him to find her. She makes a difference, in him, in the book."

"Will he make a difference in her?"

"I hope so."

"He's not you."

"I don't want him to be, but there are pieces. She's not you, but ... I'm pretty sure she's going to wear orange-framed reading gla.s.ses."

She laughed. "My gift to your literary oeuvre. I can't wait to read it, Eli, from start to finish."

"It'll be a little while yet. I couldn't have written that scene three months ago. I wouldn't have believed it, and I couldn't have felt it." He walked to her. "You've given me more than reading gla.s.ses."

She slid her arm around him, rested her cheek on his chest. Hardly a wonder, she thought, once she'd taken that first risky step, the fall had followed so fast.

And she wouldn't regret it.

"Let's walk Barbie," she said.

At the words "walk" and "Barbie," the dog scrambled up and went into full-body wag.

"And I can tell you a couple of ideas I had for your new third-floor office."

"For my office."

Her lips curved as she drew back. "Just ideas. Including," she continued as she rose for the leash and one of his jackets, as hers was currently in spin dry, "a really wonderful painting at a shop in the village. One of Hester's, actually."

"Don't we have enough paintings in the house?"