How to Honeymoon Alone

He nods, and the last shred of hope I had in showing him the contract for One Fatal Step melts away.

Phillip looks up at me. “But, and this isn’t a legal advice, you could probably buy back the copyright.”

“I could?”

“Yes. Do you know how much the book is selling for now?”

It takes me a second to answer. “Practically nothing. It hasn’t earned back its advance.”

“All right,” he says. “Well, then you can make them an offer. Something they can’t refuse. Let’s say you offer to pay back half of your advance in exchange for getting the rights back.”

“Half of the advance?”

“As an opening offer,” he says. The beard on his face is thicker now, and his hair isn’t brushed back the way it was the first day I’d met him.

He looks like he’s on vacation.

“You can always up the offer later on,” he continues. “If you want the rights back, I’m sure there’s something you can do. Just don’t leave them with the impression that you’re hungry for it. That’ll give them the advantage.”

“Right.” I dig my teeth into my lower lip and consider my next words. It’s not something I’ve spoken out loud. “I might decide to give it another shot… at some point.”

“Getting published?”Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Sort of.” This was the part Caleb never understood, and Becky wanted to, but her advice was always do what makes you happy, and I’m not sure if this will. I could fail again. “Not through a publisher. I’ve been reading a bit about self-publishing. And… you know I’ve kept writing.”

“How many books do you have finished?”

“Two, but they need editing.”

His eyebrows rise. “Really?”

“Yes. I mean, they’re just on my hard drive because the publishing house wasn’t interested in anymore. And the last book, well, it didn’t sell, so I’m not exactly sure if my others would.”

“They might,” he says. “As I said, publishers have different preferences. But self-publishing might be another avenue. If you’ve already written the books, you don’t have anything to lose.”

I sigh. Just my self-confidence, I think. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

He puts my phone down. “Either way, though, I want you to ask a lawyer to read through any future contract before you sign it. Did you have help with this one?”

“A friend who went to law school read it over,” I say. “Is it bad?”

He shrugs, but it looks careful. “It’s not bad, but it could have been better. There are definitely clauses I would have put in that could have protected you. Maybe the publisher would have rejected them, but I would have at least tried.”

I smile. “If only I could afford your hourly fee.”

He snorts. “I’ll give you a deep discount.”

“Oh?”

“Of course. I’d also expect to read the book.”

I groan. “Why do people always want to do that?”

“Because they’re interested,” he says. “Because I’ve never met a writer before. You know, I’m going to find One Fatal Step at my local bookshop.”

“Oh God.”

He leans back in his deck chair, eyes on me. There’s something different in them today. Something that wasn’t there yesterday when we were driving around the island. It speaks of last night.

I didn’t spend the night in the bungalow. After sex and food, he walked me to the lobby. He said I was more than welcome to stay, of course, but there was something so intimate about the idea. I wasn’t ready to face the reality of waking up together and not having any of my own things. I needed the freedom of my own hotel bed, clean underwear, and my toothbrush.

But here I am, back at his bungalow, anyway. We’ve ended up here after spending most of the day on the beach. I look down at the hem of my cover-up and tug at a stray piece of thread.

If I think too much about last night, I’m not going to make it through a normal conversation with him.

“Eden?”

I look up. “Sorry?”

He smiles. “So, you’re writing something inspired by this vacation.”

“Oh, yes. I’m still at the plotting stage, though, but I’ll start the actual writing when I get back home.”

“You’re taking real-life inspiration?”

“Yeah, definitely. The resort is stunning, and so is the beach, nature, all of it. I’m going to use as much as I can.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And for characters?”

That makes me smile. “You want to know if a version of you is in it?”

“Maybe,” he says. “Is there an annoying, table-stealing jerk?”

“No table stealing as of yet,” I say, looking very serious. “But I do have an overworked character who’s brought his laptop with him on a vacation. He’s going to be a mysterious background character and the main suspect in the murder investigation.”

“The main suspect?”

“Yes.”

Phillip shakes his head. “I would never be the main suspect.”

“Come on, you’re pretty mysterious.”

“But I’m a lawyer,” he protests. “I would know how to conduct myself in order not be a suspect.”

“I thought you never worked on criminal cases.”

“I’m a mergers and acquisitions lawyer now. But I did parts of my internship at a courthouse, and I’ve read hundreds and hundreds of pages of criminal cases in law school.”