Let's Do This 1: Stormi and Sebastian

Chapter 4

Sebastian POV

     After reading the first three chapters of Artemis's book, 'How I Survived' I am floored. Stunned. This woman worked incredibly hard after learning just how deep the depths of the betrayal by her family and fiancé ran. I'm sitting here, with my mouth slightly open in shock, but in awe also. She has to be one hell of a strong woman to overcome all of that and still be so optimistic about life. I honestly didn't know how she still had a zest for life, because that would have just about killed me. And then I'd never know who to trust after that. It was similar to a famous book that made its rounds a few years ago, about a woman who travels and finds herself again, but this one was more of a 'How-To', a very 'this is what I did to keep myself going while on a budget because everything is getting more expensive'. 

     Which I loved.

     Most of my readers are your average, everyday people who need to know that while things can be hard, you don't have to travel the world to find beauty in life and things to help you discover your true self, or when you have to rebuild your life as it's now completely different than you thought it would be. I couldn't wait for Wednesday's meeting with this author. I was compiling a list of questions about the book such as, how long it was, how many things she planned to try along her journey if there'd be a part two, and what could we expect from that, etc. I needed to see if this would be a good fit at my little publishing house.

     Part of me wished I'd thought to do something like this after losing my fiancé in the accident, but another part of me was so consumed by guilt and grief that I couldn't find my way out on my own. Not until I came across her plans for this publishing house. She wanted to help lesser-known authors get recognition, but also in a way that could help the readers of the books published. When she died, she'd left everything to me. We were due to be married the week before it all happened. It was late and dark, and we'd been arguing. 

     I sigh, deeply, trying to get my thoughts off of that night. I remember I had read her plans when I was going through her desk a year after she passed. I decided that was what I was going to use the money she had left to me for. I was going to fulfill her dream. It was how she would live on.

     Wednesday came quicker than expected, but we were busy at the publishing house. I was so excited to meet this woman to talk about her book, and hopefully get it published and out within the next few months. It was fantastic. 

     I walked in, contracts and laptop in my bag. I glanced around the coffee shop, not seeing who I was looking for. She said she'd be wearing all black, dressed casually. I dressed as casually as I could as the senior editor and owner of the publishing house for a meeting with a potential author. I wore trousers, loafers, and a long-sleeved button-up shirt with a three-button sweater. I ordered a coffee, black, and found a table with two comfortable chairs. I pulled the paperwork out of my briefcase and set it on the table, rolling my sleeves up to make sure that there were no changes that needed to be made to the contract offer I'd been working on. Every time the bell chimed above the door when someone walked in, I would look up to see if it was Artemis. 

     Every time, it wasn't. Maybe I was just a little over-eager. 

     At five til eleven, the bell rang again, and again, I went to check to see if it was Artemis. I looked up and I swear, the world seemed to slow down. It wasn't even like this with Amelia, my late fiancé. Time never slowed down with her, but this woman...she was stunning. Black hair, brilliant green eyes, a slim figure. She was wearing a black V-neck shirt with black jeans, ripped in the knee, and black boots with socks pulled over the tops. She had an olive-colored, army-style jacket over top. She looked like a goddess, but I wasn't sure which one. She was just...stunning. I stood up, wiping my sweaty palms down my pants, then swiping my hair back, hoping I was not about to make a fool of myself. She looked around the café, seeing me standing there, staring at her, possibly drooling, and she walked to me.

     "Mr. Stone?" She asked and her voice was so soft, it sounded like the melody to a song about a beautiful spring day that I'd never heard but could easily become my favorite. 

     "Yes," I said, swiping my hair back again, "Artemis Jones?"

     She giggled. That was an even more beautiful sound than her voice.

     "Artemis Jones is my pen name. My real name is Stormi Buchcannan."

     "Stormi is a beautiful name. You said, Buchcannan is your last name? Any relation to the president?"

     She laughed again, "No. His last name is spelled differently. My family came from France in my great-great-grandparents generation. They were on my dad's side of the family. My grand-mère, whose grandparents were the ones who came over, passed when I was in college a few years ago."

     "I'm so sorry to hear that. How old are you?"

     "I'll be twenty-three next month. I graduated last May." She smiled at me. 

     I just stared at her for a few moments. This woman was amazing. "I'm so sorry for being rude. May I get you a coffee? Tea? Something to munch on?"

     "I was just about to order an iced coffee and lemon pound cake. It's my weakness. They have the best desserts in the area." She said, slipping her coat off, allowing me to see more of her body without the bulky coat covering her. She had on a t-shirt that revealed a half-sleeve on her left arm of what looked like book spines, and different styles of pens throughout the years. It was beautiful, dark, and colorful all at the same time. I sat back in my seat and watched her as she moved across the front of the counter, graceful like a ballerina. My eyes couldn't help but follow her every move.

     The rest of the conversation just flowed between us. She signed the contract for this book and the next. We talked with my lawyer who assured us that since their names were not used, and the situation was vague, we could get away with talking about it, and how she's recovering. Plus, with the pen name, no one would know it was Stormi unless we wanted it to be known. Then, we'd have to discuss the legality of it all.

     "I'll be your editor for this book and the next. I'm hoping to have it completed and out within the next three to four months if that works for you." She nodded, swallowing her sip of coffee.

     "Great. How far along in the book are you?" I asked, gathering the paperwork and mentally making a note to email her a copy of the contract as well as sending her a physical copy of it.

     "Done." I looked at her, slightly confused. She was done? With the whole thing?

     "You're done writing it? Really?"

     "Yeah. If you'd like to come over, you can see and read it for yourself. I have it saved on my laptop." She smiled at me, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly like she was enjoying my reaction to her news. 

     "How does," I pulled out my phone to check my calendar, "Next Friday at five sound? I can bring takeout?" I looked up at her, hopeful. Because this meant we could get the book out sooner than expected.

     "Chinese?" She offered.

     "Sure. Any favorites?" I added her to the calendar, along with notes on how she takes her coffee, and Chinese. Like a good editor should. Keep the writer happy and all.

     "Anything, just not too spicy, and at least two egg rolls." I smiled. A woman after my own heart. I nodded as we packed everything up, getting ready to leave the café with a plan for next Friday.

     Let's do this.