“Poppy—” Connor says, but I hold up my hand. Because it’s true. I’d love to have my laptop back. Those keys practically contour to my fingertips at this point, and it’s sentimental because I wrote my first bestseller on it.
But I can get by with my replacement . . . if I have all my data.
“I don’t know . . .” Diana says slowly.
“Name your price,” Connor simply instructs her. “Or if you really need a computer, wait here with Poppy. I’ll get you one tonight so you’re ready for classes in the morning.”
“Please,” I plead with her. “Please, Diana. I know it’s asking a lot, but . . . I need it.”
“Poppy Woodstock . . . Great Falls . . . book two . . . on my laptop . . .” Diana seems to be in shock, muttering to herself as her eyes glaze over, unseeingly staring at me. She shakes her head and sighs. “Out of all the laptops out there, I got this one?”
“May I see it?” I ask, and after a moment’s hesitation, Diana gets up and disappears down the hallway. As she’s going, I look over at Connor, who holds up a finger, his eyes saying everything I need to know. Stay calm . . . it’s not over yet.
She comes back with a laptop, my laptop, and I can’t help but squirm in my seat a little. I’ll give her virtually anything she wants to get my baby back in my hands.
“Okay, here’s what I want,” she says, hugging my laptop.
I guess she had some time to wrap her head around this shitshow on the walk to her bedroom and back, I think wryly.
“I want to read the book as soon as I can. Please.”
Oh, well that’s easy. “Promise, I’ll send you an early signed copy.”
“Okay. And, in this book or the next, I want a paramedic character named after me.”
Connor gives her a dark look. “I mean, it is Trouble in Great Falls. I’m sure you could come to an unfortunate end somehow.”
I’m not entirely sure if he’s talking about a character or the real Diana. Probably an imaginary one. Mostly.
“Uh-uh,” Diana tells me, ignoring Connor. “Don’t make me the token red shirt who dies five minutes after being introduced. No sending me to investigate creepy noises or hanging out looking for a Dr. Feelgood husband at the hospital. I’m too smart for that.” She taps her temple. “You don’t need to make me a main character, and I don’t need a dose of Prince Charming dick. But I want a few lines, I want to live, and I don’t want to be a villain or a stereotype.”
“Deal.”
“And a dedication?”
“Sure.”
Diana takes a deep breath, smiling at how well her negotiation is going. “Last thing. I’m serious about my studies. I need a replacement, not money, and I don’t have the time to buy another one.”
I glance at Connor, expecting him to argue. But instead, he just whips out his phone and starts tapping. About ten seconds later, he looks up, nodding. “Done. It’ll be here at eight a.m. You’ll have to take the delivery.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I argue even though I’m glad he is. I could get Diana a new laptop for classes, but I don’t have connections that’ll get one here by the morning. Maybe by ten P.M. if I pay for rush delivery.
“I told you I would fix this,” he reminds me.
“Here,” she says, laying my laptop with its cord on the coffee table. “Uhm, I don’t want to press my luck—”
“Too late,” Connor growls. He’s reached the end of his patience with this and is about ready to take my laptop and walk right out the front door without another word to Diana Nichols.
She flinches, and I lay a hand on Connor’s thigh. “What is it, Diana?”
“Can you just tell me if they work it out?” she asks, but then she blinks and shakes her head. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. I want to be surprised.”
I’m glad that someone cares this much about the characters who live in my head. “How about if I say that . . . romances always end in a happily ever after . . . eventually? Sometimes, the journey there is just really bumpy, sending the characters and readers through a bunch of ups and downs before they get to the final resolution.”
“Like real life,” Diana says wisely.
“Exactly,” I agree, shooting Connor a glance. I find him already looking at me with an inscrutable expression.
“Okay.” Diana’s agreement takes me by surprise, even though it’s what I want. It’s almost . . . easy. Not that getting to this moment has been remotely simple. “Thank you.”
Diana watches me as I take my laptop in trembling hands and open the lid, relief rushing through me when I see my screensaver pop up on the screen, a good sign. “Oh, my God! Nut! Juice!”