“I’m just the delivery system,” I tell her, letting Maria up to the table. As Julia starts chatting with her fan, I sidestep away. I find myself next to the crying woman, whose tissue is, by now, mostly used up.
“Dammit,” she says, sighing. “I’m still all smudged.”
I hand her another tissue. Apparently I’m now tissue guy. Hell, there are worse ways to live.
“Thanks.” She sniffs, grabbing one.
“Are you, ah, all right?” I ask.
“I got a little overemotional. I do that sometimes,” she says, smiling as she finishes wiping her face. “I just went through a really terrible divorce.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s an automatic response, but I find that I mean it, too. I feel oddly guilty, all of a sudden. Why does my business have to be so damn lucrative?
“Thank you.” She wipes under her eyes again, and keeps talking. “He told me I was too fat for him. When we were signing the final papers, he told me I’d never find anyone to love me the way I am.”
“Christ,” I say, feeling like I walked into something I shouldn’t be seeing. I also kind of want to punch this asshole in the face. Who says that kind of shit? Even during divorce?
Yesterday, I would’ve been faintly disgusted by this woman for telling me these sordid personal details. Right now, I just feel damn sorry for her.
“Oh crap, is this too much? I just launch into—” she says, pausing to blow her nose.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. She looks back to Julia, and so do I. Julia’s about finished with Maria’s books, grinning and laughing while they talk.
“I was telling Julia that her Abby Mills series, the one with the plus-size heroine, gave me the strength to get back out there. And I met a wonderful guy,” she says, her voice cracking a little. She stops and waves her hands. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear this.” She flushes a little.
“No. Good for you,” I tell her. And I mean it.
So Julia makes people laugh, makes them feel good about themselves, and helps them have fun. Why the hell was I giving her such a shitty time before?
I step away and watch her work. I watch her sign, giggling wildly at something another fan tells her. She even puts her head down on the table with laughing. She’s free, happy, smart, talented . . . and maybe that’s everything I didn’t like about her at first.
After Phoebe left me, I didn’t want anyone else, ever again. I told myself it was because I didn’t want another woman wrecking my life, lying to me, cheating on me. The truth is, I didn’t want to look into another woman’s eyes—a woman I thought was spectacular, funny, smart, strong—and see that I didn’t measure up.
But somehow, I’m starting to shed that fear. Julia looks over at me as her signing line finally begins to die down. She rests her cheek on her hand, and mimes going to sleep. She’s playful, and she winks at me.
For fuck’s sake, Nate. You need to find out if you’re married or not.
The cool, lawyerly reserve comes over me as I check my phone. Shit. Only a few hours until Mike and Stacy’s wedding. We need to go. God, we still don’t even have any idea where this chapel is. Why can’t—
“There are a ton of single ladies in this line,” Tyler crows, coming over and grabbing me by the shoulder. “Dude, you hook me up with all the best places.”
Of course Tyler figured out that romance conventions are full of women. I should never have underestimated his horniness.
He’s wearing his shirt unbuttoned halfway, his sunglasses riding on top of his freshly gelled hair. He smells like bamboo body spray. It’s not a great smell.
“I’m surprised Meredith let you out of the room,” I tell him, looking back at Julia. Tyler whistles.
“Had to sneak out, bro. I was so hungry. We worked up an appetite.” He sticks his tongue between his teeth and nods suggestively. “We had room service, but it wasn’t enough. Oysters. Not my favorite thing.” Then he continues scanning down the line of women, surfing with his eyes. He whistles. “Like, a bunch of sevens and eights riding along. I’m impressed. Hot chicks like to read.”
“What the hell are you even still doing here? The restaurant’s downstairs,” I say. I’m even starting to snap at Tyler. Maybe because he’s distracting me from focusing on the problem at hand. Find the wedding chapel, see if there’s a marriage certificate.
Or maybe I’m irritated because he’s distracting me from Julia. Oh, fuck me.
“Nothing wrong with scoping out the competition. Even if Meredith’s like, super good in bed. Older chicks, man.” He nods, like he’s giving me some sage wisdom. The Tao of Tyler. “Older chicks.”
Finally, the signing line ends. Julia stands up, talking to the other authors. They come over to us. She smiles at me, but not seductive. It’s all business right now. Which is the way it has to be. Business. The way I want it to be.
Don’t I?
“Ladies,” Tyler says, walking over to Julia’s friends, both attractive young women. Jesus fuck, is he flexing? “You had great form out there. Really good signing technique.”