By the Book (Meant to Be #2)(28)

So for the rest of the night, they sat there, at opposite ends of the couch, eating soup and bread and drinking wine and watching a period drama. At one point, Izzy heated up more soup for both of them, another time, Beau made them popcorn, and right when Izzy was thinking about going to bed, Beau brought out a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies, so Izzy had no choice but to stay for one more episode.

They didn’t talk much, but that was okay. Izzy was surprised by how comfortable it was to be here with Beau Towers. She didn’t feel like she had to fill the silence with conversation. She didn’t feel awkward, sitting here with him.

She still had no idea why he’d been shut away from the rest of the world for the past year, or why he was struggling so much with his book. He’d hinted at some realizations he’d made about himself, but she didn’t want to ask about that, at least not yet. But if they were really going to work on his book together, she’d have to push him to write about those things, whether he actually shared any of it with her or not.

Could she really do this? She’d offered to help him, because the pain in his voice and the look on his face had made her want to reach out, want to do something to help. But did she know how to do this? Did she have enough knowledge, enough experience, to coach Beau through writing a memoir?

She had no idea. But she knew she had to try her best. If this was going to be her test to decide whether to stay in publishing, she was going to give it her all, and if her all wasn’t good enough, then that would be her answer.

But, she realized, she wanted this for Beau’s sake, too.

The episode ended, and Beau turned to her. “It’s getting late. Do you want to pick this back up another night?”

Izzy nodded. “Yeah, sure,” she said. “And also, about your book.”

Beau sat back, midway through reaching for the plate of cookies. “Yeah?” He looked away. He did that when he was nervous, she realized.

“Maybe we should start working together on Monday? I have to do my other work from nine to six, New York time, so I’m done around three. How about we meet then, just to talk through some stuff. Nothing big yet, just ease into it, if that works for you?”

He bit his lip, then nodded. “Okay. That…that makes sense.” He smiled at her. “Three sounds like snack time—we can meet in the kitchen and raid the snack cabinet and go from there?”

She laughed. “Perfect. See you at snack time on Monday. Good night.” She turned to leave the room.

“Good night, Isabelle. And…thanks.”

She turned back around and smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”





Izzy took a deep breath on Sunday before she picked up the phone.

“I can stay—if Marta lets me,” she’d said to Beau on Saturday night, like it was no big deal, like it was a foregone conclusion that Marta would let her stay here longer and work with him on his book. And now she had to get Marta to let her.

She wanted—dear God, she wanted—to send an email about this. In an email, you could spend minutes, hours, laboring over each phrase, making sure you worded everything just right. In a phone call, who knows what you would say? But Marta did everything important over the phone. She dialed Marta’s number.

“Isabelle.”

Marta always answered the phone like that, with just the name of the person calling her. It had been so disconcerting at first.

“Hi, Marta,” Izzy said. “Sorry to call you on a Sunday, but, um, I think I’ve been making some progress with Beau Towers. The tricky part is that he wants me to stay longer. For a while, I mean, to help him with his book. I think he’s been having a really tough time, and it seems like it’s helped him to talk it through with me.” Ugh, she was babbling. She’d already said help twice. She should have written down a script.

Marta huffed. Was she running? Or skiing? Knowing Marta, she was probably, like, running in the snow.

“It might be time for us to cut our losses on this one,” Marta said. “Throwing good money after bad isn’t going to magically get a book out of this guy. I’m glad you’ve gotten him to respond to my emails, at least, but I don’t want to force you to stay in some dinky little town in California for this. I’ll tell him no.”

Izzy thought fast. She had to get Marta to let her stay. She hadn’t realized how much she cared about doing this until Marta was on the point of taking it away.

“Actually,” she said, “I’ve been surprised at how committed he is to this book. You sending me here was just the push he needed.” Yes, make Marta remember it was “her” idea to send Izzy here. “I don’t think he ever would have made any progress on the book otherwise. I can’t guarantee this will work, of course, but I’m pretty sure that if I don’t stay, there will never be a book. And I’ve been able to get all my other work done remotely pretty well while I’ve been here—the isolation is good for reading manuscripts.” As was the bathtub, and the sunshine, and the reduced stress from not having to walk into that building every day, but she didn’t need to say that part.

“Hmm.” There was a long silence on the phone, and Izzy forced herself not to fill it. A technique she’d learned from Marta herself. “Okay. You have a month. Don’t let me down.” And then Marta hung up the phone.