Mr. Knight/A Jordan Knight Fanfic ✔️

20

Part Two

three years later

~~

20. exegesis

Falling back onto a too-soft mattress, I stretch my arms over my head and hear my back crack with released pressure. Then I roll my head wearily toward the other bed in the room, occupied by a redheaded woman in pajamas.

"If I don't see another hotel room for as long as I live, that won't be long enough."

Kim Collins, my PA, laughs as she flips through channels on the television. "At least this one has clean sheets. Remember Houston? Oh, look, it's a rerun of your Helen interview! Aww, you were so nervous that day but you did great. Your makeup was so flawless."

I grab a pillow and cover my face with it. How she has the energy to talk, much less with such verve, is a mystery to me. We just spent four hours at a signing. The only thing I want more than sleep right now is silence.

"Oh, oh, this is my favorite part!" squeals Kim.

The volume increases until I can hear clearly despite my pillow buffer.

"So, Darcy, there's been a lot of speculation about Cole..." The audience screams and applauds. "Obviously since your book is a memoir, he's based on a real guy. How real are we talking?" Laughter rises and fades.

"Real enough, Helen."

"Uh oh, team, she's playing hardball."

More laughter, including mine. I sound perfectly amused and unoffended, but I remember the discomfort behind my fake smile. Thankfully, I've fielded questions about Cole enough times that I have an automatic answer.

"I'll say this much—yes, Cole was/is a real person who made a lasting impact on my life. I can truly say that without his guidance, I would have never had the courage to write my story."

"And what a story it is! Let's all thank Darcy for being here today and speaking so openly with us about the tough topics addressed in her bestselling memoir, A Poet's Daughter. If you haven't already read it—"

Kim changes the channel, yawning loudly. "Darcy, you still awake?"

I don't say anything, my face safely concealed by my pillow. A minute later, the television shuts off and Kim settles intro bed. With a click from her bedside lamp, the room darkens.

Alone with my thoughts, I think of the person the world knows as Cole Laughlin, a thirty-something businessman with whom I'd had a brief affair during graduate school. Blond. Brown eyes. Born and raised in Seattle. Owns a cat named Charlie.

Though I obviously made use of artistic license to conceal his identity, everything else was true to form. His wit, his mind, his passion.

Jordan.

~~

We catch an early morning flight out of Boston home to Seattle. Kim sleeps the entire way and though I'm exhausted, I've never harnessed the skill of relaxing on planes. Instead of soothing, the dull roar gives me a headache. Or maybe it's the recycled air, or a mild case of claustrophobia.

Whatever it is, I spend the flight daydreaming about waking up in my own bed in my own house, a little two-bedroom cottage in Capitol Hill. I purchased it last year using the advance from my publisher as a downpayment.

Though I could have easily drawn on my father's inheritance to buy the place outright, the idea had been quickly discarded. I'd wanted to fail or succeed without his help.