Alix took a ream of papers from her leather bag. She riffled through them and eventually handed me a thick stack bound by a rubber band. She slapped a business card on top.

“Read this tonight. Email me your thoughts tomorrow.”

Now—seven years, twenty-nine thousand paper jams, two apartments, three promotions, one inherited tortoise, eighteen flings ranging from scorching to moronic, two world-ending highlights mishaps, and eight bestselling novels later—is it all coming to a sudden, screeching end?

Sue walks back to her white chair, holding an ominous stack of papers. She uncrosses and recrosses her legs.

“Lanie,” she says. “Alix isn’t coming back.”

As I probe deep for a poker face, I feel shock spreading over my features. This is not what I’d prepared myself for.

“She’s decided to stay home with Leo.”

I’d known Alix was anxious about coming back to work, about putting her son into day care—but she loves this job. Sorrow weighs in my limbs. Alix is my mentor and my friend. Alix is my advocate at Peony. I want to talk to her, to hear this news in her words, but as I sit across from Sue, I become aware of the quizzical look on her face. She hasn’t brought me here only to deliver this news. There’s also my fate to attend to. Collateral damage.

“We need to talk about Noa Callaway,” Sue says.

“The manuscript.” I nod, my stomach twisting.

“Where is it?” Sue asks.

“It . . . well, it’s . . . I don’t know.”

“It’s four months late, Lanie.”

“Yes, it is.” And now Alix won’t be coming back to rescue it.

Sue tilts her head, looks hard at me. “One might expect author and editor to be on their third round of revisions by now.”

“That’s true, one might. But with Alix’s leave, and, well, Noa’s process has always been unique—”

“Noa has never delivered late. Not once. These books determine our budget. They are our budget. Noa Callaway delivering on time allows you to sign up that little . . . what was it, the debut?”

“The Beginning of a Beautiful,” I say. My most recent acquisition, won in a hard-fought auction, is a queer Casablanca reboot by a debut author from Morocco.

“I know, Sue. I know how important Noa’s deadlines are to the whole company.”

“And yet,” she says, “you haven’t been able to get Noa to deliver.”

“She’s working on it,” I say. “We emailed this morning and . . .”