Two months passed.
Casey and her beautiful story lit up the world. Climbed charts. Won awards. Got picked by actors and their reading clubs. Movie rights were optioned. Her picture covered a few of the magazines at checkout counters. And whenever her picture appeared, Clay was never far behind. White hair. Sunglasses. Suit. In a beautiful exchange, Clay was becoming the father she never had. Often the pictures showed them holding hands. Or his arm around her. And not in some creepy way suggesting impropriety, but in a beautiful manner. A manner that said, I cherish this woman.
Given sales, the publisher released a royalty payment before it was due. Nearly seven figures. Casey took one look at the check and shook her head. “This would keep me high the rest of my life.”
“Yep.”
She handed it to me. “Take it.”
“Not a chance.”
“I’m serious.”
“I am too.”
“You won’t take it?”
“Not in ten lifetimes.”
She turned to Bones, but he cut her off. “Don’t look at me.”
She frowned. “You two know I cannot be trusted with this.”
Clay spoke up. “I can. We’ll go dancing.”
She laughed and sat in Clay’s lap. “Thank you.” I watched her with no small amount of joy, for it was here, for the first time, that I knew she’d make it. The fact that she’d just sat in a man’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck meant she’d started to forgive men. What’s more, she was blooming in front of our eyes.