“Is this… a good thing?”
I considered her question. “I’m not sure? But I can’t focus. And I have this meeting in--”
“Two minutes.”
“Right. Two minutes. I can’t run the rest of my day like this. I need to know for sure. Do you mind picking me up a test and bringing it straight back here?”
“I don’t mind at all. Want some water? Or are you just going to hold it until I get back?”
“I’ll be fine. Just the test. And some gum! I ran out of gum yesterday.”
“Any special kind?”
I smiled. “The cinnamon kind. The burn is very invigorating.”
She turned toward the door. “All right. Cinnamon gum and a pregnancy test. I’ll be back in a jif!”
She slipped out the door in a plethora of flailing colors and almost got her skirt caught in my door. Robyn was always a vibrant dresser. She’d been helping me out in some form or another since I started my part-time work at this place years ago. But my favorite part of her outfits were her glasses. She seemed to have a pair for every occasion. I’d seen her wear Christmas glasses and floral-printed ones. Rainbow, and cotton candy pink, and green ones with shamrocks on them for St. Patrick’s Day. If there was anyone who could brighten anyone’s day, it was my assistant.
I needed some of her brightness to carry with me for this meeting.
“Miss Cleaver?”
A man’s voice filtered through my door, followed by a knock.
“Miss Cleaver, it’s Albert Freddington. We have a meeting now?” he asked.
“Come in!”
I tried to push everything out of my mind as I shook the man’s hand. I gestured for him to take a seat in front of my desk, but my mind was everywhere. I didn't know what this test was going to reveal to me. And even though Clint and I had talked about children, we’d talked about it as if it were years away from happening. We had things we wanted to accomplish first. Life we still wanted to experience as a couple, without distractions. Or other responsibilities. Or things to tie us down.
I mean, couldn't we at least get settled into our new place first? Maybe travel around a bit? See more of the world?
Or get married?
“Miss Cleaver.”
I jumped. “Yes? Yes. Sorry. Welcome, Mr. Freddington. How’s your morning been?”
“It’ll be better once we can get this meeting over. I have an appointment with the cover designer for lunch.”
None of this is part of the plan. “Well, that meeting is going to have to be postponed. At least, for a little bit.”
He blinked. “Why?”
I pulled out his manuscript. “I made a lot of notes in the margins like you wanted me to. But I still had to attach some paper to the back.”
“You had to attach paper.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because, while this is your third draft, it’s still reading like your first. I made some notes on organiza--”
He snickered. “I’m sorry, what?”
I placed the manuscript in front of him. “It’s not a bad thing. You’re ten books into a solid series. Things can lag. Or get repetitive. I’m here to make sure--”