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WHILE THEO MAKES coffee, I call my agent. It’s Sunday, but I know Holly will answer. She’s my representative, but also my friend. As the phone rings, I watch Theo banging around the kitchen. He’s angry, disappointed, maybe even disgusted. I’d tried to explain my trip to Bellevue, but it had sounded over the top even in my own ears. “How could you do something so reckless?” he’d asked me, his handsome face twisted. “You have a daughter who needs you.”

He made it sound like I’d parachuted into a firefight, not driven a few hours hoping to have a civilized conversation with a woman who didn’t like my book. My life wasn’t at risk… only my reputation. My career. My relationships. Given how it all turned out, I couldn’t defend myself.

“Hey, Cam,” Holly answers, and I hear the ambient sounds of a restaurant in the background. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” I move into my office, and I tell her everything.

“Shit,” she mutters, and I hear her chair scrape back, hear her make excuses to her companions. I envision her moving through the restaurant—going outside? Into the restroom? She instructs me to send her the TikTok link as she walks. I do, and then I wait as she watches it.

“Oh, Camryn…”

“I know.”

“We’ll need to wait for your PR team to weigh in, but you should draft an apology now. Have it ready to post on Monday morning after we talk. Do a version for Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.”

“Please don’t make me record a TikTok.”

“I don’t think they’ll want that, if you’re not comfortable on camera.” A toilet flushes in the background, revealing her choice of location. “You need to be ready with the statement. You need to show Nadine that you take this seriously and you want to repair the damage you’ve done.”

“I will,” I say. “I do.”

“Apologize for overreacting. Say you respect a reader’s right to have an unfavorable opinion of your work.”

“But that’s not why I went there,” I say. “I wanted my harasser to see that there was a real person behind the public image. That she was attacking a human being with feelings and emotions. Can I at least explain?”

“That might muddy things. It might seem like you’re making excuses,” she says. “But that’s a question for Olivia.”

“Okay.” My voice quivers. “I’m sorry. I never thought it would blow up like this.”

She’s silent for a beat, and then she sighs. “I wish Nadine had made an offer on the next book before this happened,” she says, and my heart sinks.

“Me too.”

“I’ve got to go.” My agent wraps it up. “We’ll set up a call with the team tomorrow.”

I hang up and wander back to the kitchen. Theo slides a mug of coffee toward me.

“What did she say?”

“She told me to draft an apology statement. We’ll get it approved by the publishers and post it on social media tomorrow.”

Theo shakes his head. “That could be too late.”

“It’s just one day.”

“You have to get out ahead of these things before they spiral. Remember what happened to Lance Showe?”

Lance was a friend of Theo’s, another outdoor guide specializing in high-end adventure tours. He’d taken a group of businessmen from Silicon Valley on a backcountry skiing adventure. There had been some drinking, some weed, and a lot of mistakes. The crew ended up requiring a helicopter rescue. It had made the news—the cost to taxpayers, the risk to rescuers’ lives. Lance and his clients had done the walk of shame past the TV cameras.

“He thought the outrage would die down on its own. He thought people would forget if he just laid low.” Theo drinks his coffee. “But it snowballed on Twitter, and it almost destroyed him.”

“Lance didn’t have a team of PR experts to rely on, and I do, so…”

“Lance should have spoken from his heart. He should have apologized right out of the gate, admitted his mistakes, and promised to learn from them.” He takes a drink of coffee. “You may have a team behind you, but no one cares about your career as much as you do.”

He sounds sage, wise beyond his mid-thirties, and I let the thought percolate as Theo sets his cup in the sink. “I’ve got to go.”

“Okay. See you tonight?”

“Depends what time I get done,” he says. “It’s probably easier if I crash at my place.”

It’s an excuse. He’s angry at me. Or maybe a little afraid, since he clearly thinks I’m an unhinged lunatic with an alarming lack of self-control. But he brushes his lips against mine. It’s not our usual goodbye kiss, but it’s something. He’s not washing his hands of me completely. At least not yet.

Alone in the apartment, I work on my apology statement until noon, when I assume my daughter will be awake. She hasn’t responded to the barrage of texts and voicemail apologies I sent last night, but today is a new day. I’m hoping she’s feeling less angry after a good night’s sleep.

A voice picks up on the fifth ring. “Cam, she’s not ready to talk, okay?” It’s Adrian.

“No, it’s not okay,” I say. “I’m her mom. She can’t shut me out of her life.”

“She’s not shutting you out. She just needs a break.”

“I just want to apologize. I know I was wrong.”

“You can apologize when she comes back to your place in a few days.” He lowers his voice. “Are you okay, Cam?”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I’m just under a lot of stress.”

“So is Liza. This was a big decision for her, and she needs our support.”

Tears blur my vision at his words. My daughter is the most important thing in my world, and I’ve let her down. I’ve been so wrapped up in the online attacks, obsessed with who is behind them, worried about the impacts to my social circle and my professional life, that I dropped the ball on my most important job. Being a mom.

“Tell Liza I love her and that I’m sorry. Please, Adrian.”

“I will,” he assures me. “It’s going to be fine, Cam. Just give her the space she needs, okay?”

“Okay,” I croak through the emotion clogging my throat.

I pray that he’s right.