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 d

allowe

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