Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
I picked up the copy of Tuesdays with Morrie. Lucian had been reading that book to me before he died. And every night since, I’d been reading it myself. Over and over again. I couldn’t move on from it because I knew he chose it for a reason.
“Do you want me to read to you?” Birdie asked. “I know it won’t be the same, but—”
“It won’t.” I smiled and handed her the book. “But I’d really like that.”
She opened the page I’d left off and found the first paragraph. When I closed my eyes and rested my head against the pillow, a magical thing happened. Because for a minute, I could remember Lucian’s voice. The way the words vibrated against his chest and filled the room as he read to me.
I missed him more than I breathed every day, but somehow, he was right.
He was still here with me.
“YOU’RE LOOKING FABULOUS,” KATE NOTED as she sat down across from me.
I already had my tea, and she was ten minutes late to our coffee date.
“You lie.” I smirked. “But thanks.”
“I would never lie to you.” She wrinkled her nose playfully. “Not even about your work.”
My teeth dug into my lip when she pulled out her notes. Already, I was prepared to sob into the table when she told me how awful it was. I’d mentioned to her a thousand times before I emailed it that it was the first thing I’d ever written. It probably wasn’t good. I didn’t know what I was doing. The list went on and on. It had been a month of radio silence since I’d sent it to her, and I was quietly freaking out on the inside when she looked up at me.
“I know it’s still rough,” I said. “But I plan to get a good editor—”
“I have some notes here for you,” Kate said absently as she scrolled through the pages of her tablet.
I didn’t know if I could do this. It occurred to me then that I was crazy to attempt this now. I was pregnant, emotional, and full of grief, and I was not in any place to handle criticism, small or large.
“Kate—”
“Hauntingly moving and poignant,” Kate read as she peered up at me from above her glasses. “That’s a direct quote from New York Times bestselling biographer Kal Langston.”
“What?” I blinked. “You mean—”
“Here’s another.” Her eyes returned to the screen and followed her finger. “Utterly riveting. A moving piece from start to finish. Gypsy captured the essence of a man few really knew behind the media headlines. His life’s work, his heart, his silent foray into redemption under intense scrutiny. A real-life hero, shrouded in mystery.”
My eyes began to water as I brought a trembling hand to my mouth. “He really read my book?”
Kate took off her reading glasses and offered me a gentle smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t help myself.”
I shook my head because I was too emotional to form any words. Kate crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “The world needs to see this book, Gypsy. The world needs to know who Lucian West was.”
That was exactly what I wanted. I wanted the world to know who he really was.
“I know it’s not my place,” Kate continued. “But Kal made you an offer. He wants to help you. He wants to meet you in person.”
I wiped the leaky corners of my eyes and took a fortifying breath. “What kind of an offer?”
“He has his own publishing company. He’s connected, and he’s excited about this project. He’s even talking about a documentary.”
The corners of my lips tilted in a smile that felt rusty on my face. It was exciting, and it was happening so fast. My immediate instinct was to say yes to everything, but that instinct felt vulnerable only a second later.
“What is it?” Kate asked as my smile fell.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “This is everything I wanted, but I just can’t help wondering if it’s what Lucian would have wanted.”
Kate gave me an understanding nod. “He was quite the enigma, wasn’t he? It’s difficult to say how he would feel about it. He never did a good deed for the reward. I suppose that’s why he didn’t boast of his wins or even bother to tally them. In his eyes, it didn’t matter how many people he helped because he always fell short. He was entirely too hard on himself.”
“And he was so private,” I added. “I don’t know how he would feel about having his entire life splashed on print for the world to see.”
Kate was quiet for a moment while she considered it. “I really don’t know. But I know that it would be a shame for such a great man to leave this world without his legacy ever being heard.”