Page 28 of Kill Your Darlings

“Floors?”Rudolph reached for the control panel.

“Rooftop,” I said.

Finn said, “Third.”

It was weird to feel so self-conscious and uncomfortable with Finn.A few weeks ago, I’d felt comfortable enough, felt like I knew him well enough to…consider getting to know him better?Because, really, that’s all it had come down to in the end.

Still.Weird to feel so strained and awkward with someone you’d had sex with in the shower.Weird to know how someone’s hair smelled wet, to know the sounds they made during sex, how their mouth felt when it smiled against your own.

I hoped to God I wasn’t going to experience this every time we bumped into each other.

Not that we’d bump into each other so often after this weekend.

Rudolph beamed in belated recognition.“Keiran, my boy!How are you?”

“Verywell,” I replied firmly.The firmness was for Finn’s benefit.

He glanced Finn.“Ah!And Mr.Scott.I’m looking forward to this afternoon.”

Rudolph was conducting Thursday’s special guest author interview with Finn.A nice coup for Finn.

“Me, too, sir,” Finn answered courteously.

Rudolph chuckled.“Sir.You’re making me feel old.”He turned back to me.“You look tired, Keiran.You need to learn to pace yourself.Not every battle’s worth fighting.”

“That’s for sure,” I said more tersely than I’d intended.

Rudolph’s silvery brows rose.

I’d known, and admired, him a long time.While he hadn’t been a mentor, exactly, he’d been extremely kind and always given me excellent advice.When I’d been a very young editor, I’d aspired to grow up to be Rudolph Dunst.

“How’s this merger with Wheaton & Woodhouse coming?”he inquired kindly.

“It’s more of a buyout.”I was acutely conscious of Finn’s listening silence.

“It always is.”

“But it’s preferable to bankruptcy.”

“Unfortunately, Millie doesn’t have her grandmother’s creative vision or her father’s business acumen.”

I wasn’t about to respond to that, not in front of Lila’s newest acquisition, but I agreed one hundred percent.

“The industry’s changing,” Rudolph remarked.“Just the fact that we now refer to it as an industry.”

Really, we’d been referring to it as an industry as long as I’d been in publishing, but I nodded.

“It’sallchanged, of course,” Rudolph reflected.“The world itself.”

“Yes.”

“When I started, publishing was smaller—more insular, certainly, but also slower, more deliberate.You cultivated a list over years, sometimes decades.An editor’s name carried weight.Authors knew you were in it with them for the long haul.Now…” He offered a graceful shrug.“There’s so much noise.So much urgency.Platforms, data, engagement.The books are still there, of course—good ones, worthy ones—but the pace at which they’re expected to prove themselves would make even Hemingway sweat.I don’t dislike the evolution, necessarily.But I do miss the quiet.”

“Algorithms and AI.”My smile was rueful.“Metadata, TikTok reviews and platforms.”It was an acknowledgement not a complaint.Things change.

“One must evolve or face extinction,” Rudolph said.“Which is why this is my last conference.”

“What?”