Chapter Eighteen
Riley pressed intothe warm body behind her as consciousness seeped in, burning into her memory the feeling of his chest against her back. The night before had been incredible—talking like they hadn’t talked in ages. He skirted the one topic she knew lived at the forefront of his mind, but they’d get to that when he was ready.
And then falling asleep in his arms... When she climbed into his lap, she had worried it was too much. That it would take them to places it would hurt to go.
It had been worth the risk.
His warm breath tickled her neck in a steady rhythm. He was still asleep. Wake him up or bask in the comfort a little longer?
She crawled out from under his arm and blankets, and scooted to the edge of the futon. The night before had been fun, but she was still lying to herself about something important. Pretending she didn’t love him intensely, and then diving into an illusion ofjust friendsto get closer wasn’t going to work.
Her drifting attention landed on a familiar business card, and she tugged it from its spot on the coffee table. Had he ever called Scott? So much had happened lately. She should have asked sooner.
She plucked a ballpoint pen from a cup to the right of the computer and flipped the card over. The pen slid smoothly over the stock, and the lines filled in quickly as she sketched. Within a couple of minutes, a picture of Zane looked back at her. It was different from her comics. He was hunched over a laptop, but she’d left out the cartoony lines, giving him a more realistic appearance instead.
Her phone buzzed at her from its spot on the table, where she’d left it the night before. Out of habit, she grabbed it to scan the new email message. Questions about Zane—what to do, how to do it, how she would cope if he didn’t feel the same—swirled in dizzying circles in her head.
Moving on autopilot, she pulled up her email.
Tell him and risk losing it all, or keep it to herself and risk driving herself insane with regret, because she never asked?
She paused, thumb hovering over the screen, when a familiar name caught her attention. They’d been number one on her list of agents to contact about her graphic novel. Why were they emailing her?
She needed to calm down. It was a bizarre coincidence. The knot growing in her stomach needed to go away. She clicked the message open, sickness filling her as she read.
Ms. Carter,
Thanks so much for contacting me about your book project. While the concept was unique and interesting, I felt like the artwork lacked polish. Please keep in mind this industry is subjective and...
Her vision blurred, and the words trailed off. Zane stirred behind her. She hadn’t sent her work to anyone. How did she get rejected without querying?
Her artwork lacked polish?
“Hey.” Sleep lined Zane’s greeting.
She didn’t look up. Holy hell, this hurt. Part of her knew rejection was inevitable, but she hadn’t even been able to bring it on herself. How had this happened?
“Shit, Riley. What’s wrong?” The bed rustled some more, and seconds later, Zane knelt in front of her. He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Talk to me?”