Chapter 35

I forced my lips to curl up in my greeting. “Hi there.” For positive thoughts, I sang, Pastel book covers and Real Housewives marathons, snuggles with Nicholas, and mint chocolate bonbons in my head to the tune of “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music.

Felicia stood up and drew me into a hug. My body stiffened, since I wasn’t expecting it, but I managed to lift my arms and embrace her slender frame before it was too late.

I sat down, ordered a cappuccino, and we made awkward conversation for a few minutes. I lied when I told her my day was decent and she complained about the rush-hour traffic getting across town from the West Side.

After the waiter brought over my drink and refilled Felicia’s coffee, the mood turned serious. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to maintain eye contact. I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t and the tension in the air was palpable. Was she waiting for me to go first? I had no idea where to start, but opened my mouth and listened as a voice that sounded like a shakier version of my own said, “So, about Love on Stone Street.” I was lost for what to say next and hoped Felicia would take over so I wouldn’t have to.

Felicia nodded. “Yes. Great job on your revisions. I loved it.”

“I know. I tried so hard but…” I blinked. “Wait? What?”

“The fire angle is really great. I could totally see this book on the small screen someday.” Her eyes, the shade of acorns, danced.

“It is? You can? Does that mean you’re not letting me go?” I swallowed hard.

Felicia furrowed her brow. “Letting you go where?”

“I, um...” I tucked a hair behind my ear. “Never mind,” I mumbled with a grimace.

Felicia leaned forward. “Did you think I asked you here to terminate our contract?”

I touched my finger to my chin to make it stop quivering. “Either you were going to tell me Melina hated what I wrote again, they were terminating the contract for the second book, and you were dumping me, or that Amy Heckerling wanted to turn A Blogger’s Life into the next Clueless. My money was on the former.” I tapped my noggin. “There are no fifty shades of gray in my thought process—just Sylvia Plath or Sophie Kinsella.”

Felicia regarded me with wide eyes. “Wow.” She chuckled. “I’m both delighted and disappointed to tell you neither of those scenarios is accurate.”

“They’re not?” My muscles relaxed marginally, but my entire body shook with residual nerves. I shivered, wishing I’d brought a cardigan with me.

She smiled kindly. “As of yet, I’m not in discussions over film options. But our partnership is solid. I like working with you very much. You’re talented. You welcome critical feedback and are open to revisions. You get things right pretty quickly.” She cleared her throat. “Usually.”

I fiddled with my napkin. “Why did you want to see me then?” My voice came out like a whisper.

Felicia pursed her lips. “Because many of my authors have struggled with their second book over the years. They fear they won’t be able to do it again or the feedback from their first novel is a paralyzing distraction. I was afraid you were suffering from the sophomore slump as well.”

I sat up straighter in my chair at Felicia’s words. She was telling me I wasn’t the only author who toiled through their second book and, in fact, it was common. What I thought might be a dreadful meeting was turning out to be exactly what I needed. The knots in my neck unraveled at the discovery.

“I’d wanted to reach out earlier, but I’ve been inundated the last few months. When Hannah mentioned you might need some coddling, I realized my agent-to-author skills have been deficient.”

Grinning, I said, “Not at all” until what she’d said sunk in. “Hannah told you I needed coddling?” My voice shook again—this time in anger, not nerves. It was as if for every good deed Hannah performed, she was obligated to screw you over with the next. I took a sip of my cappuccino to avoid letting Felicia know what I thought of Hannah’s disclosure of what I’d assumed was a private discussion between the two of us. She was the one who insisted it stay in the vault. Was this purposeful? Could Hannah truly think making me look emotionally weak in front of my agent was a positive thing?

Felicia made a pained expression as if reading my mind. “Please don’t be embarrassed, Kim. It’s perfectly acceptable to struggle. You don’t have to pretend to have everything together all the time for my sake. In fact, it’s much better for all of us if the lines of communication are open. We’re partners and I need to know when you’ve hit a wall or if you think you might lose it so I can give you perspective and talk you off the ledge. I swear I don’t think less of you if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“You don’t?” I asked meekly.

“I’ve been a literary agent for almost twenty years. I’ve seen everything.” She reached down and removed something from her large orange hobo bag. “I’m sure you’ll hear from Melina soon, but in case you want a second set of eyes, I’ve marked up your manuscript. It could use a little fleshing out in parts and I’ve made some suggestions on how to increase tension before the fire, but otherwise I think it’s wonderful.” She handed it to me across the table.

I took it from her and placed it on top of my own purse. I was dying to read her notes this minute but checked myself. “Thank you so much for this.”

“I’m old school and always work from a hard copy, but I’ll send it by email too if you prefer digital.”

“Thank you, Felicia,” I said again while wondering if it was too late to invite her to the wedding. It was a struggle to remember our relationship was business-based because I worshipped the ground she walked on. I currently wished we could have a sleepover, talk about our favorite books, and play with each other’s hair. I forced myself to focus when I realized Felicia had said something I was too busy daydreaming about our slumber party to hear.

Ten minutes later, she paid the bill, and we said our goodbyes. Though the walk to the restaurant from the subway felt like a journey down death row, I might as well have been walking on air when I headed back to the train to go home. Even if Melina didn’t love my writing, Felicia did. Whatever happened, and with or without a movie deal, we were in this together.