working is because Lu is settling for less than what he really wants.
I’ll make some changes this week. I’ll bring the kids over for meals and get the joint bank account set up. Maybe after we get our schedule figured out, and Lu feels more stable, this won’t be as hard.
“I love you,” I say. The words are a poor substitute for what Lu deserves.
“I love you, too.” He reaches forward, and the screen goes dark.
Suddenly, the reality of my situation hits me hard. I’m alone in my storage room with a glob of cum on the back of my hand, while my mate is clear across the city, just as alone. What am I going to do?
Jesse is just months away from their gender reveal party. They’re already going through so much change. I can’t put them through the hell that would ensue if Lu and I were open about our relationship. But if I don’t, Lu has to deal with a different kind of hell.
When the Eternal Ice gave me a second mate, I thought I was lucky. But now I’m not so sure. There’s no way for me to be what everyone needs now.
No matter what I do, I’ll let down someone I love.
19
Lu
I try not to mope or complain. I really do.
But sleeping without Sam is hard now that we’re officially mates.
I toss and turn most of the night, clutching his pebble to my chest, but the pebble doesn’t seem to help without Sam here. By the time morning comes, I’m exhausted, and I still have a two-year-old who needs a diaper change and breakfast.
I can’t keep on obsessing about Sam and all of the things I can’t have with him. This isn’t healthy.
My phone rings just after Mary finishes her breakfast and goes toddling toward her stack of board books in the living room. I expect it to be Sam, but instead it’s Frank Glynn, our agent.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Lutz. I contacted Sam about the offer from HarperCollins last weekend, but I haven’t gotten a response from him. Have you two had the chance to look over the numbers I sent you? What do you think?”
Last weekend I just wanted to sign the contract and get it over with. In some ways, I still do. Sam offered to help pay my bills, but I hate the idea of that. I’m already living in my family’s house and taking hand-outs from my brother.
But HarperCollins said they were interested in my art. I planned on sending off my portfolio to a few publishing companies this week anyway. Why not them?
“I think Sam wants to hold out for more with our book. But I have a portfolio, if they’re looking for an illustrator.”
There’s silence on the other end. Did he only say they liked my artwork to make me feel better?
“Email it to me, and I’ll contact the editor today. The acquisition process for illustrators is different, so I don’t know if I can help you out with this. But I will if I can.”
That’s a start. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, at least I’ll know I tried.
“Thank you, Frank. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Can I give you a bit of advice?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Send your portfolio to other publishing companies too. Your style is something editors are actively looking for right now. Timing is important with this sort of thing. Don’t wait, okay?”
My stomach fills with knots. Frank thinks I have a chance.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Talk to you soon. Take care of yourself.”
The knots in my stomach don’t go away when Frank ends the call. If anything, it’s worse. When I reorganized my portfolio last Saturday, resubmitting it felt so hypothetical. I was drunk on my new relationship with Sam and full of hope.
What if that hope was rational?
My stomach continues to churn all morning as I sort out my submissions. I’ll hit the Big Five first, then I can target the smaller publishing houses.
It isn’t until I stand up to make lunch that the knots in my stomach make me feel light-headed, even dizzy. I dash toward the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet before my breakfast comes up.
I tell myself it’s because I’m nervous. A lot has happened in the last forty-eight hours. My body may need some time to adjust.
But I haven’t thrown up since I was pregnant with Mary. If I’m pregnant again, what will Sam do? Ask me to get an abortion? Keep me at a distance? He was clear about the limitations of our relationship.
Hopefully, I won’t