“I didn’t do anything other than bring out what you were already thinking, Zoe. That’s the best a writer can hope for, to be the…Horace? Ovid? To be someone guiding you on your journey.” Hannah said.

I smirked. “So you thought that by referencing more obscure poets instead of just saying Virgil, you were going to make it seem like you didn’t know the classics?”

Hanna smiled back and laughed, “that works on a surprising number of people to make me look more self-effacing…knew it would be hard to try on true book nerds.”

“Glad my literature degree was useful for something.” I said. I relaxed into the couch, feeling more comfortable with Hannah. It was a beautiful, plush couch that I don’t think had been meticulously detailed in any of Nicole Marcel’s books.

“You still want that coffee?” Hannah said, jerking her thumb back toward the kitchen.

“If I’m being honest? I had two cups already today…but I was going to go ahead with coffee with a cute girl I met on the train even if it meant I’d be wired for the entire damn day. A water would be nice, though.”

Hannah smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. I looked around the room and saw that Hannah’s writing life had served her well, financially. Those five-figure royalty checks were proof enough, but this place was large for apartments in this party of the city. It took the entire corner of the building, with a view out to the park that I was sure was constantly beautiful as the seasons passed. If this apartment were at my income level, it would have been divided into four studios by this point, but Hannah deserved such a view of the city and such a nice place if she made art like she did.

“You don’t mind sparkling, do you?” Hannah said, holding two green Perrier bottles in her dainty hand, necks crossed.

“I love it, actually…your protagonists’ addiction to sparkling water is something that always made me grin a little when I notice it.”

“Ahh, yeah.” Hannah said, handing me the bottle and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Well, I don’t drink booze…can’t, really, so, have to give them something to drink.”

Hannah letting me in to little details of her life felt so exciting to me. As a writer, she was a bit of an enigma. Didn’t really give interviews, didn’t even do much promotion. Her social media wasn’t anything more than announcements of releases or sales…none of that parasocial ‘I’m your best friend’ stuff here. Nicole Marcel, or, I guess, Hannah Merrill, let the books speak for themselves, and that’s all she really needed to do. People like me bought the things in droves no matter what.