I can’t believe he saw that video. I’m mortified. But also…a little intrigued that he’s here asking me about it. “Maybe,” I say. “It makes sense. I’m sure the more experience you have as a cop, it eventually molds you into a better cop.”
“True.”
“I don’t know why writing would be any different,” I say. “If I actually lived through something, I could probably make it more realistic when I put it into words on paper.”
Saint breaks our stare and looks down at his arms that are folded across his chest. He’s staring at his left hand. At his wedding ring, specifically. He begins to twirl it with his thumb.
I wonder if that’s an absentminded move or if he’s thinking about what Candice and I talked about in the live video. About how maybe I should sleep with a married cop to make my writing more realistic.
Maybe that’s why he’s here…
“This book you’re working on,” he says, bringing his eyes back to mine. “You said the main characters’ names were Cam and Reya?”
I love that he paid that much attention to the video. “Yes.”
“What things happen to Reya in the book that you’ve never experienced?”
Holy shit. This conversation is really going there.
I need a drink.
I walk around him and take a glass out of the cabinet. “I need wine for this conversation,” I say. I turn and face him. “Want some?”
He shrugs. “I’ll take a glass.”
I grab an open bottle of wine from the refrigerator and pour us both half a glass. I turn and hand him his. We’re closer now—facing each other. I’m leaning against the sink and he’s still leaning against the kitchen island, but our feet are just inches apart now. He sips from his glass of wine, keeping his gaze locked on mine the whole time.
I don’t sip as delicately from mine. I take a huge gulp and then set the glass on the counter next to me. I stare at the glass rather than at Saint. “Reya is young,” I say. “Twenty-three. She’s inexperienced. Cam is a cop, as you know.” I finally bring my eyes back to his. “When Reya and Cam meet—the attraction between them is intense. But he’s married.”
Saint nods slowly. He sips from his wine again, then brings the glass against his chest. “How does that make Reya feel?”
“Jealous,” I say immediately. “Disappointed.”
“Do they know each other very well?” he asks.
“Not at all.”
“So this attraction…it’s just physical?”
“At this point…yes.”
I have no idea what’s happening here.
Are we talking about us? Or is he genuinely interested in the story?
Now that I’ve been picturing Cam as Saint in my head, it’s hard to separate the two. As a writer, that’s a strange feeling. To be standing so close to a real-life version of your character.
I take another drink. I’m breathing so hard, I can hear it. I’m sure Saint can hear it, too.
“How does their affair begin?” he asks.
I swallow noticeably this time. “A kiss,” I say. “The attraction is too much for Cam. He loves his wife, but he’s never felt such a strong physical attraction to anyone like he does to Reya. So one night…when he’s at Reya’s house on business…he kisses her. But in the middle of the kiss, he feels guilty, so he pulls away from her and storms out of the house.”
“He storms out?”
I nod. “Cam is a tortured soul.”
Saint nods in thought. “And that’s never happened to you? You’ve never been kissed by a married man?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say quietly. “And now I feel stuck when I try to write Reya’s reaction.” I take a sip of my wine and then continue. “How would Reya react after that? Would she get angry at Cam for kissing her, even though she wanted it? Would she cry because he stormed out? Or would she feel triumphant—like she won?”
Saint tilts his head, his eyes narrowed on me. “That does sound like something you would have to experience before you could really nail the emotions.”
“Exactly,” I say.
We stare at each other for a quiet moment. My heart might be beating faster in this moment than it was when I was woken in the middle of the night to police lights.
Saint pulls his bottom lip in and chews on it for a moment. I want to laugh because that is such a classic move in the novels I write. I wonder if he realizes that.
There’s a sudden, intrusive buzzing sound that makes Saint stand up straight. He pulls