The more he talked, the more Nem knew he had to be the one. His four-year struggle to write his first book meant he would empathize with her challenges. That is, of course, if she brought him into her confidence. She’d have to see.

The three years he took to gain a publisher’s interest. His debut Suffer Them to Come to Light turned out to be a seven-year marathon. He had some patience. She wouldn’t need the same, thanks to him and his help. Once they met, she was certain her path would be smoothed.

After forty-five minutes of his talk, he was true to his word, answering questions for another fifteen minutes, with amusing quips and an endearing sincerity.

While he was on stage, as well as after, Nem glanced at his agent every now and then. The man barely looked at his client, seeming over-preoccupied with his phone. He reminded her of an aging surfer with his sandy, a touch unkempt, collar-length hair. His constant frowning, despite the excitement in the room, made him appear the complete antithesis to William, who seemed to be enjoying himself.

Despite this, she wondered if he might represent her too. That would come later, she reminded herself. First, she had to get this book ship-shape. To do this, the next step had to happen. She must meet William Barnes.

As he finished question time, Diane appeared next to him to thank and escort the author to a desk to the side of the stage, which Nem had also helped set up for the signing.

William had said he could only stay for thirty minutes for signing books, but he managed to extend that to forty. Those who missed out received autographed bookmarks he’d left with the store. Once his agent motioned to him that he had to stop, he rose to follow the man who, Moses-like, parted the crowd of fans, still waiting and hoping to talk to the author.

Nem’s pulse quickened as she realized the crucial moment now approached quicker than she had imagined. What to do exactly though? She hadn’t thought this far ahead, she’d been fascinated by his stories and journey, and this evoked her own daydreams. She hadn’t made solid plans and was caught off guard as the author disappeared through the room’s exit. Many of the audience had left, but more than twenty avid fans, including the screaming one from earlier, remained and blocked her way. She pushed through the group, excusing herself, until she exited into the store showroom, her trepidation mounting that she had missed him.

“Please don’t let him be gone,” she whispered under her breath.

As she scanned the store, she spied him and his agent by the door, no doubt saying their goodbyes to Diane. Forget playing it cool. Still without an idea of what she might say, she rushed toward them.

The men had their backs to her approach, but Diane saw her. As Nem came up beside them, her boss reached over and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the huddle.