A Novella MisTaken(33)

He scratched the back of his neck and decided to let her go first. “So. What’s with the book?” He nodded at A Woman’s Education that Jay still clutched in her hands like a shield.

“I, uh…” She swung her hands—and the book—behind her back. “First, I need to say something. Last night, and the night before, and this morning … all of it has been amazing. Eye-opening and, uh, freeing, I suppose. I had no idea that it could be like that. That I could be like that. Thank you.”

Was this the beginning of a breakup speech? Because it sure sounded like a breakup speech. That’s totally what it was—she was breaking up with him and bringing him his own damn novel as a consolation prize. God, did he never get away from the stigmas of his job?

Well, if it was a breakup, he might as well get his two cents in while he had the chance. “I should be thanking you. You trusted me, and that means a lot.” Now he’d made their incredible sex sound like a standard transaction between a therapist and patient. So he added, “And it’s been hot. Way hot.”

“Way hot.” She blushed and his pants tightened.

Then he was examining the meaning of those two words. Would she have said that if she were breaking up? Was there a “but” to follow? And if there was, why hadn’t she said it yet?

After what seemed like an eternity, she cleared her throat. “Which brings us to this.” Out came the paperback again.

He stared at the familiar cover, remembering how much pride he’d had when his publisher had first unveiled it. It had been his break into the literary world—a world he loved more than anything. He’d toyed with several different genres while pursuing his English major and in the years that had followed. He hadn’t even been certain writing was his future—there was editing, and being an agent as well. The erotic romance experiment happened to be the one that struck gold. He’d gotten an agent of his own, and a major book deal. Then, the public loved it. The first novel soared to the top of the charts. He’d been blown away to see his dream come true.

He hadn’t realized there’d be so much criticism. Not just bad reviews, but criticism of him as a person. How could a man write about such scandalous acts? Was he some sort of sex-obsessed weirdo? Honestly, he was just really good at telling a story. And this one happened to be dirty.

But because of the judgment he received on a daily basis, he’d learned to keep a low profile. Sometimes he wished he’d kept his pen name secret altogether. His family was mortified. He rarely did public appearances, and he even more rarely told non-industry people what he did for a living. Especially people like Jay. Based on how strongly she’d reacted to the subject of the book, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t like that he wrote it. He should have told her anyway.

Something told him she already knew.

Nothing to do but find out. He nodded to the book in Jay’s hand. “Do you mind telling me where you got that?”

“Um. Your closet?” She said it like a question and then corrected herself. “I mean, I got it from your closet.”

Of all the answers he’d expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. “My closet?”

“I’m sorry. I snooped.” Her gaze was downcast, seemingly studying his bare feet.

“You went through my closet? Through my personal things?” All the worry he had about her reaction to his occupation dissipated as something else took over—fury. Maybe it was simply a defense mechanism acting so that he didn’t have to deal with the guilt of hiding the truth from her, but he was outraged. His privacy was important. It was crucial. It was all he had. “You had no right to do that.”

“I know.” At least she looked anguished about it. “I know! I said I was sorry. I didn’t even mean to.”

Sorry? He’d been betrayed and all she had was sorry? She didn’t fucking mean to? It felt like a knife had been jabbed in his gut. It was cliché, but now he understood the reason the saying existed. Because that’s what this pain felt like.

“You can’t imagine how much this hurts, Jay.”

She met his accusation with blazing eyes. “Probably as much as it hurts that you didn’t think you could share this with me.”

Well, she had a point there.

They stood in a silent stare-off as Jay ran a hand through her short hair. A million things came to his head to say—apologies, explanations, retractions. Nothing seemed right.

It was Jay who spoke first. “Look, I know it was wrong, Noah. I do. I didn’t really mean to be snooping. I was looking for a shirt and the books were underneath and I thought they were drugs and you never told me what you do for a living, so I figured that this must be it so I sorta swiped one so I could investigate it further, and, well, yay, it’s not drugs.”