ace that seemed to reject you before you even walked through the door-pristine, polished, and breathing an air of affluence she'd never known. She h
when she gave her name. Her heels, slightly scuffed, clicked too loudly on t
s office was on
sleek furniture. Everything was cool-toned and expensive-looking. She was early-ten minutes-and she wondere
Shaw will be with you sho
e of the black leather couches. Her knees bounced. She opened her notebook
tall, elegant, and in control. She smiled briefly at Juliet, and then d
right? Co
silhouette was sharp, deliberate. When he turned around, Juliet was momentarily stunned by how different he looked in person-more relaxed than h
g forward and offering his
how firm it was. "Thank you for..
her, then gestured to a seat. "Most p
own, placing her bag on the floo
on't waste time on manuscripts I don't s
nked. "
d like it's trying to imitate someone else's. It's
lso made her squirm. She wasn't used to bei
id softly, unsure o
s in the second act. Some scenes feel overwritten. And the dialogue-especia
f. "I've had trouble with subtex
corrected." He paused. "Woul
eath c
sign authors just because they have potential. I need to know t
s flush, but she nodd
er a marked-up copy of her manuscript, filled with sticky notes and red pen. "Work through my notes.
carefully, as though i
e not colleagues yet. But you've
pounding. She wasn't sure if she'd just
-
l's notes with a growing sense of respect-and intimidation. His comments weren't cruel, but they were direct, honest, and occasionally bru
hone
a
did
ed and t
harp. But he li
a
ike "you're hire
Weekly meetings. Real c
a
That
up the manuscript again. She read a n
her bleed honestly here. Readers dallowe
but not coldly either. There had been interest. Curiosity. A flicker of s
-
. Nathaniel didn't make her wait. His desk was scattered with paper
ough the edi
. I still hav
Let's d
r title, every plot thread that didn't earn its space. She pushed back when she disagreed, but she
their convers
lipping through a page with minimal edits. "Especially yo
He never saw writing as a real job.
t writing was a way to avoid life. Then I married so
d him closely
children's books. Brilliant ones. I still can't read them without-" He
r shift, softer so
It's part of the story now. I don'
ruth of things without softening the edges. He didn't h
ain. "You've got talent, Juliet. But talent's a sta
said, firmer
ood. Then we'
oted in something real. This wasn't a fairy tale. It was w
lutching her revised pages, she reali
by him-not just as a w