Then the feeling veers toward panic—that Noa Callaway will never write another book, that the disaster is unfolding on my watch—and suddenly I can’t see. The guests are a sea of red. There’s a droning in my ears. The speech has vanished from my brain.

I am either going to faint or throw up.

I fumble for my phone. I’ll simply open up the speech. But the facial recognition isn’t working, and I can’t hold the mic and the phone and my effing cake balloon and type in my password all at once. I’m going to have to abandon it.

And say what?

I open my mouth and a squeak emerges. My eyes fall on Meg in the front row, who is gaping at me, ferociously mouthing the words good evening.

“Good evening!” I belt out.

Meg palms her forehead and gives me a thumbs-up. At least my voice seems to have returned.

“I’m Lanie Bloom, and I’m Noa’s editor.”

The whispers throw me, and I remember that the rest of the office doesn’t know about my promotion. There’s true shock on Meg’s face, which she masks with a wild grin when we lock eyes. The words sound normal to our guests. Still, I shiver saying them.

Then, from the back of the room, I hear a single pair of hands clapping. The applause spreads forward, growing in volume. Aude whistles between her teeth. This buys me some time, and it refocuses my attention on who these readers are, on how much we have in common. I decide to speak from the heart.

“I’m also a fan of Noa’s. In fact, Noa’s books are the reason I became an editor. I’ve never stopped feeling honored to work on them. When I look out at you tonight, I know I’m among friends. That’s the Noa Callaway effect.” Another cheer rises from the group, and my eyes follow the sound to a young woman I recognize from previous events. She’s with her whole crew, as usual, and more than a few of them have Noa Callaway quotes tattooed on some part of their bodies. This is a good sign.

“Let’s give a round of applause to the Callababes from Providence”—I gesture toward them—“who met at Noa’s very first book launch ten years ago and have stayed friends ever since. Can you believe these ladies train down together for every Noa Callaway launch?”

The room indulges me with applause, and I suspect the Callababes’ numbers will increase tonight, another Noa Callaway effect. Everyone’s invited to the fandom.

“I want to thank the book clubs, the bloggers and bookstagrammers, and the amazing mother-daughter Facebook group having that competition tonight to see who can finish reading the novel first. Screw school, amiright?”

A group of teenage girls back me up: “Hell yeah!”