It Had to Be You

The Next Day

Nina couldn't shake off the sensation from last night. All at once she felt close and distant from him. She loved the idea of having a moment they shared all to themselves without the prying eyes of her family or his friends. But in many ways it didn't feel satisfying enough. It felt like he was just out of reach and inaccessible to a point of driving her kind of batty.

She wanted to reach out again but what good with that do her? Besides she was on a deadline. Part of Nina's dedication to herself over the last few months had resulted in her producing her first book. It had all been a blur really. She had been writing a blog and one day she got contacted by a publisher who asked if she was being represented. She had no idea what that phrase even meant. But after a few conversations, some googling and a lot of questions, Nina determined that she was being asked to write a book and in order for that book to be published, she needed a literary agent. Said literary agent had arrived in the form of Margie, a thirty-something year old native New Yorker. Margie has bouncing curls that had a mind of their own and Nina loved that when they met together the curls reflected Margie's mood. If they were bouncy she was happy. If they were clipped back she was all business.

On this particular day, they were solemn. Margie had her curls pushed back in a headband which displayed two beautiful thick gold earrings. Nina was jealous of Margie's jewelry collection. If the book sold, maybe she's buy herself a pair of similar taste. Or she'd put money towards her taxes like a responsible adult. She pushed the thought aside as she took her place across from Margie in the boardroom. It was only nine am but Nina had received strict instructions the evening before to show up, dressed professionally. There were no other clues. She had submitted her latest draft nearly three months ago and was waiting on comments. She had long ago run out of excitement about the process. Margie had been very upfront that despite Nina being found online and a publisher taking an interest in her, there was zero indication they would actually buy what she had to say. Besides, what did she really have to say? Nina wrote about her job, her clients, her struggles with anxiety and most of all, her dreams. She wrote about what she dreamed at night and was pleasantly surprised that so many people resonated with her subconscious. That is what she had been writing about when the publisher reached out. She was in the middle of a series of interpreting a set of dreams where she found herself on the street outside of a bar not sure if she should go left or right. Each time she had the dream something mysterious always happened the next day and that is what drew her followers to her They always wanted to know what sort of magic would ensue.

"Are you ready?" Margie sat straight up in the seat across from her. She set and reset the notebook and pen in front of her. Each time she tried to make them straighter which both pleased Nina and made her anxious.

"Um, I guess so. What are we doing today?" Nina was used to this. Margie often met her in the conference room where they did brainstorming sessions or marathon editing groups. She had learned it was better to say "yes, I'm ready" than to hesitate in Margie's presence.

"We're about to meet James Bucannon. He is going to make you an offer."

"An offer of what?"

"To buy your book."

"Wait what?" Nina was flabbergasted. She sat back in her chair trying to make sense of what was happening.

"Sit up, here he comes." Margie hissed through a tight-lipped smile as the door to the conference room opened. Nina tried to hide her surprise as James Bucannon took a seat at the head of the table. He wasn't the old head of publishing she had imagined. She had heard his name before and had gotten it into her head that somehow he was ancient, crotchety and probably difficult to work with. In front of her sat a handsome man, a few years older than her. She had to guess his age by the slight grays he had at his temples. He had warm blue eyes, not those piercing kinds and when he pulled out a pair of reading glasses she swore her ovaries did a backflip.