I Wrote Their Love Story, So I Wrote Myself Out novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: The Hotel in Brooklyn

Dennis walked us as far as the curb.

The car he'd called was idling there, and he held the door for Isla with great courtesy.

"Four emails," he said quietly, "to a company inbox, over three years, from a woman who watched every upload and signed in at the same minute each week. My lawyers use a word for that."

"Do they," said Isla.

"If you come to the roof on Friday, I will use it."

Isla looked at him for a long moment.

"You said four," she said. "You only forwarded one."

Dennis's smile did not move.

"Goodnight, Miss Brodie."

She got into the car, and I got in beside her, and neither of us spoke until the bridge.

Then she turned her head and looked at me in the passing orange light.

"He deleted the others," she said. "He's just told me so himself."

"I know."

"I'll deal with him on the roof."

"On the roof," I said.

She nodded, and slid her hand into mine, and held it all the way to Brooklyn.

The hotel was a converted warehouse in Williamsburg, and our room was on the ninth floor.

The whole east wall was glass.

Manhattan lay across the water, lit up end to end, and I stood at the window with my jacket still on, looking at the building where I'd once pitched a show to a room of men in suits.

I heard the door lock behind me.

"Jasper."

I turned.

She was standing with her back against the door and her shoes already off.

"I had it wrong," she said.

"What did you have wrong?"

"Her look. The lens." She came toward me across the carpet in her stockinged feet. "I thought it meant you were still hers. I thought it was a sort of tether."

"Isla."

"I watched you turn her down tonight, in front of everyone, and your voice didn't shake once." She put her palms flat on my chest. "I've never seen anyone be so finished with something, and so kind about it."

"I wasn't kind. I was tired."

"You were kind."

She pushed my jacket off my shoulders and let it drop.

"I've wanted you since the doorway in the rain, and I'd have taken you in the street," she said. "I'm going to be gentle with you now, and then I won't be. You'll tell me which you want."

"Both."

"Greedy," she said, and kissed me.

It was slower than the first time.

She tasted of red wine and salt, and she kept her eyes open as she kissed me.

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