In my twenties, everything had been about the money. My classmates who had gone on to get MBAs were making seven figures by the time I started at JMP. My only thought was that if I could get Scarlett that kind of money to write, surely she would have felt successful. And we had talked about it, too—what we would do with a million dollars if we had that kind of money. I should have gotten the hint when her fantasies were always about moving to a cabin in some remote area, luxuriating in hot tubs with bottles of wine with nothing but time to read and write and be together.

“True.” Anastasios snaps me out of my reverie. “But you could have negotiated that later, after you had been more established.”

Scarlett nods slowly, as if that’s a fair assessment. “Yes, but I needed it then. I don’t know if you’ve experienced burnout, Mr. Martis, but it feels like…” She trails off, then sighs deeply. “Nothing has any joy anymore. There’s no sparkle, no excitement. Colors aren’t as bright. Songs you used to love grate on your nerves. Everything feels like too much and not enough, all at once. The people you love become a burden. It’s hard to get out of bed. Puts a real damper on the creative process.”

Anastasios tilts his head, regarding her. “Sounds an awful lot like depression.”

“There’s a lot of overlap, at least in my case. After all of that, I isolated myself, which did lead to depression. Eventually, I got help. I have a plan now, and a support system, even if it is small. And my agent negotiated a contract with longer periods of time between deadlines and a cap on the press I’ll do when you decide to release my identity, as I’m sure you know.”

He rubs a hand over his close-cropped beard and nods once in acknowledgment. “There are a lot of people at JMP who are still very angry with you. If it gets out prematurely that we signed you here, there could be consequences.”

“I don’t blame them, sir. But I was young and inexperienced, and I didn’t have the vocabulary to clearly express what I needed at the time. The irony of me being a writer and not having the words does not escape me, but it doesn’t make it less true. I could tell a story, but I couldn’t figure out my life.”

“There were many other authors who spoke up about their work-life balance after you left. JMP had a lot to consider.” Anastasios dips his chin to look at her across the table.

“So I’ve heard,” Scarlett responds without missing a beat.