Page 12 of The Loves We Lost

I read back through my previous message and reread the last line.I promise a HEA.

Me:I do. Every single book has a HEA. It’s my brand. I don’t like the “this isn’t your usual romance” twist where a book tries to get romance dollars without delivering on romance promises. I hope you finish the book and let me know if you liked it when you’re done.

Sophie:When I’m done ... interesting choice of phrase, Viola.

I’m almost halfway across the restaurant, when my heart plummets and the tables and patrons of the eatery blur around me. I reach out for the back of a chair and take a breath.

I only ever use Vi. I’m meticulous to never reveal my real name. It’s not on my social media or books. And Viola is an unusual name. When people have asked what my name is short for, which I always dodge answering, they guess Violet.

I don’t know why seeing my name on a random woman’s message makes me feel so weird. Perhaps it’s the cosmo I drank in the span of seven minutes. That must be it.

Alcohol and a lucky guess.

I take a deep breath, stand up straight, paste a smile on my face, and put one foot in front of the other.

5

BATES

“I’m fucking tired,” I grumble to Halo as we sit down in a diner down the block from Times Square. We spent the past hour with Iris’s brother and another member of the Irish mob looking at ammunition supplies stored in the back of a laundry place two blocks over.

“Same. Could have done without the six a.m. road trip. Felt like being back on patrol when my alarm went off.”

Our road captain is a former Navy SEAL. His road name, Halo, was given to him for his love for jumping out of planes. An acronym for a specific kind of jump. High altitude, low opening, meaning the fucker would jump from forty thousand feet and plummet to earth for as long as possible before opening his parachute close to eight hundred feet from the ground.

We order full cooked breakfasts and a gallon of coffee, and we’re just tucking in as three women take a seat in the booth next to us. One stares at me for a second longer than is comfortable, and I wink at her.

She blushes and folds herself into the seat.

“Don’t give her hope,” Halo mumbles through a mouthful of sausage.

I cut into my eggs. “I just made her day.”

The women get more animated when two others join them. “Who’s got their plans?” she squeals as she waves a piece of paper.

“I’m going to Colleen Hoover first,” one of them says. “She has wristbands.”

Another shakes her head. “I’m going straight to Beverly Jenkins. You know everyone is going to be standing in line for her.”

I’m just sipping my coffee when the third says, “Don’t let me leave without picking up my preorder from Vi Graydon.”

My ears prick up at Vi’s name.

“I won’t. My husband’s gonna kill me because I ordered all eight of her last series, so I have to see her too.”

I slam my coffee onto the table and head to theirs. “You’re seeing Vi Graydon today?”

I’m met with six confused faces. The women and Halo’s.

“Um. Yeah. At the RomFest book signing,” one of them finally says.

“RomFest?”

Another nods. “Yeah. At the Marriott. It starts in an hour.”

I sit back down in my seat. “I gotta eat and go.” I’m minutes away from Vi. Given I don’t know where she lives now, or anything about her beyond the slivers she puts on social media, this might be my only chance to tell her what I think of her book.

“Why? What the fuck was that?” Halo asks.