“Fine.” So I told her in a quick summary, because Mir was more stubborn than century-old rust. But laying it out made me sound like America’s National Asshole.
“You shit,” she whispered, probably not able to yell like she wanted to because she was at work. “I can’t believe you said that! If she was a debut author, maybe I could see how she might think of using you. But she’s already a bestseller! She honestly doesn’t need you for anything. And it isn’t like your groupies can read! What did that girl said at the breakfast? Oh yeah, something about how The Very Bossy Engagement has no pictures! Do you think that’s the kind of person who likes Emily’s books?”
Now that Mir put it that way, my reaction from yesterday seemed even worse. I wasn’t just America’s Asshole. I was Asgard’s Asshole, too.
Mir continued, “I can’t help you because I don’t know her number. And you can’t message her through Facebook either, because she told me she didn’t manage that stuff. She said she has too many weirdos sending her dick pics and ‘wanting to get to know her.’”
“Fine,” I said, still staring at the empty driveway. I should just drive around until I found her. Hit the likely spots she could be visiting.
“Oh, wait. I think I know where she might’ve gone…although it’s a little early.”
“Where?”
“There’s a book signing this weekend in San Francisco.”
There was? In San Francisco? Confusion and disappointment mixed together. How come Emily hadn’t said anything about it?
On the other hand, she’d been super stressed and busy with My Fair Molly, so maybe it had slipped her mind. And even if she wanted to tell me yesterday, I’d blown up on her. She definitely wouldn’t have been in the mood.
Mir continued, “I wanted to go, but can’t. Too much work. Anyway, I’m pretty sure she’s going to be there because her name was on the list of authors. Oh, and I’m extra sad about missing it because a lot of hot cover models are supposed to be there, too. Maybe she’ll find somebody to hook up with and continue to write. I mean, it isn’t like you’re the only guy in the world. And romance cover models are super sexy. Most of them are nice, too, I heard. Hotel rooms. Bars. Drinks. Voilà! And you know what happens when a pretty and successful woman is accused of using her guy’s fame to further her career. She tends to get angry and rebound. Hell, I would.”
Just imagining Emily hooking up with another guy… And why the hell did Mir sound so smug and happy about it anyway? “Whose side are you on?”
“Mine. ’Cause I love reading her books. Anyway, the next meeting’s about to start. Bye!” She hung up before I could say anything else.
I stared at the phone, then recalled Emily’s book covers. They all featured topless men in incredible shape. And if I absolutely had to be honest with myself, they could be considered good-looking.
And those guys were going to the signing? For what? It was a signing, not a concert that required backup dancers. Wasn’t a romance conference supposed to be more, like…dignified? Basically
just a gathering of bookworms?
Acid was starting to gurgle in my stomach. I called Felicia to launch Project Get Emily Back.
Chapter Forty-Two
Emily
I flew out of Dulles Airport on Thursday, after informing the hotel I was coming a day early. The clerk had sounded a bit confused, but the check-in went smoothly. I texted Lucy after unpacking my suitcase. It was about a quarter before six, and she should’ve already landed. Skye wasn’t coming until tomorrow.
–Me: You in SF yet?
–Lucy: I just dropped off my bag. Why?
–Me: Because I’m here too.
–Lucy: What? Already?
–Me: Change of plans.
–Lucy: Woohoo! Let’s hang out. Dinner and drinks! Just us girls!
–Me: What about Blue?
–Lucy: He’s out with some friends. Boys’ night out.
Perfect. I didn’t want to be in my hotel room alone. Being alone made me think about Killian. And I didn’t want to think about him. It wasn’t good for my blood pressure. Or appetite. Or sleep.
–Me: Okay. Meet you downstairs in ten.