Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
One was the door to Denia’s bedroom. The other was the guestroom next to her bedroom.
I put my ear against the wooden door of that room, wondering if I’d hear Jameson walking around or talking on the phone, but he must have been fast asleep by then. It makes perfect sense since it was after midnight.
My phone chimes as my brother’s response to my message pops up on the screen.
Berk: Good to know. Can you swing by the office today?
Since work is just what I need to keep my mind off my uncomfortable living situation, I nod as I type back my answer.
Sinclair: I’ll be there in an hour.
Feeling relieved that I have a purpose today, I finish the last bite of spaghetti.
Twenty-nine days from now, I can go back to my apartment and pick up my life where it left off before I moved in here.
I can’t wait.
I set a cup of coffee on the corner of my brother’s desk. It’ll be his second of the day since he typically picks up one on his way to the office.
I’ve been doing contracted ghostwriting for Morgan Press for a few years.
Until recently, every detail of the projects I worked on was hidden behind the cloak of a non-disclosure agreement.
My current assignment is my favorite to date.
I’ve been working with illustrious watercolor artist Brighton Beck on a coffee table book that features some of his most famous work. I’m responsible for conveying how he feels about each print included in the book, as well as an in-depth interview with him.
It’s the first project that will have my name splashed across the cover. I can’t wait for release day.
“Thank you.” Berk smiles when he spots the coffee. “You look well-rested. I take it that your first night as Jameson’s roommate wasn’t as hellish as you thought it would be.”
“You can take that back because it was,” I say, settling into one of the visitor chairs that face my brother’s desk. “We argued as soon as I got there.”
He nods as if he expected that. “Let me guess. You hid in your room for the rest of the night?”
Shrugging a shoulder, I sigh. “Am I that predictable?”
“It’s been your go-to move since you were a kid, Sin.” He reaches for the coffee. “If you needed to do that to ground yourself, you made the right decision.”
I watch as he takes a tentative sip from the cup. I know he’ll love it, since I always get his order right.
“I can’t hide in that room for the next month,” I point out.
“True,” he agrees with a nod of his head. “The coffee is perfect. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.”
He leans back in his chair. “We’re heading into the homestretch on Brighton’s book. I wanted you to know that we’ve settled on a title for the project.”
“You went with my idea, didn’t you?” I ask hopefully since I believe my one word title conveys the essence of the book and the man who is the subject of it.
He lets out a chuckle. “Of course we did. Beck is the perfect title for the book. Brighton agrees.”
A warm feeling of pride envelops me. “Good.”
“I’m impressed with your work on this,” he says. “You’ve gone above and beyond. You’ve captured who Brighton is. You helped him put his thoughts to text in a way that will speak to everyone whether or not they are a fan of his work.”
Pretending to be shocked, I widen my eyes. “There are people who aren’t a fan of his work?”
Berk grins. “That’s difficult to imagine, isn’t it?”
I nod, drinking from the cup of coffee in my hand. “The release date is still on track, right? Has Brighton decided where he wants the book’s launch party to be held?”
“At his studio,” he tells me. “He wants to showcase some of his students’ work. That doesn’t surprise me.”
I smile. “Me either.”
Berk’s gaze drops to his desk before he locks eyes with me. “Have you shown him any of your paintings yet, Sin?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No, and I won’t.”
His expression turns deadly serious. “Why not?”
“I’m not that great of an artist,” I say.
Berk rests both hands on his desk. “I disagree.”
Painting has always been a passion of mine. I’ve never viewed it as anything more than another way to express myself creatively. My paintings aren’t meant for anyone’s eyes but my own, but Berk found a way to convince me to share my work with him. Since he’s my very supportive older brother, I’ve always taken his compliments with a grain of salt.
“Show him, Sinclair.”
I suck in a deep breath. “Maybe one day. For now, I’m focused on the book’s release.”
“Fair enough.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “For the record, I don’t have a problem coming over to Denia’s to hang out if you need a buffer between you and Jameson.”