Chapter 4

The following Thursday when he had 'accidentally run into' Charlotte again had been interesting, but Eric had felt bad enough to buy Charlotte her coffee, at least. Charlotte had refused to take the bait, again, but Eric wasn't blind to the distress in Charlotte's eyes.

In the end, it was Charlotte's words that had made him think. Did his books really inspire people on that level? He was no J. K. Rowling or Kurt Vonnegut, and he highly suspected that schools wouldn't be studying 'Judas' a hundred years from now.

He continued to brood throughout dinner, and it must have shown even in his voice because when he was on the phone with Emma, she asked, "What's the matter with you?"

"Hmmm?" He pecked at his laptop, glancing over the editing changes they were currently discussing. "Nothing, you were talking about page 84--"

"No, no, before that you already sounded like a Gloomy Gus."

Eric winced over the phone. "That's terrible. 'Gloomy Gus'? Is that really the best you can come up with? I think I might have to find a new editor, you know."

"Of course, sugar." Emma didn't seem fazed as Eric had been saying the same thing for years. "Anyway, don't change the subject. What's wrong with you? You don't like Riverside?"

"What? Oh, no, I actually like it." Eric knew Emma must be grinning, because Riverside had been her suggestion. "I've gotten a lot written while I'm here, at least."

"See? I told you it was a good, quiet town, but not boring. I know it's not your usual New York hangout but I thought this was a nice change. I don't think Riverside has changed much since I graduated."

"Yes Emma, they have cars now."

"Shut up, Eric." She didn't sound miffed, though, used to his nonsense. "Is it the apartment? Markus said he got you a nice place."

"It's all right, I guess." Markus had gotten him an apartment in a co-op that Eric suspected was run by Russian mobsters. "It's nothing, it's just that I had a run in with a fan a few days ago."

"How did she recognise you?"

"She didn't know it was me."

"Let me guess." Emma's tone was flat. "You gave her the whole spiel about how your books are crap and your writing is crap and ahe should just lie down on the floor and die."

"Not exactly," Eric said defensively. "Anyway, it's true. But ahe gave me food for thought, I guess."

"Ah well, as long as those thoughts translate into more books, we're fine," Emma said briskly, her tone businesslike again. "Ready to continue?"

Eric put aside all thoughts of Charlotte, irritated by how much he was letting just one fan affect him so much. "Yes, let's go on."

***

The following Monday, Charlotte was already at the café when Eric came in, and he hesitated before going to sit at his usual table opposite Charlotte. She was wearing a blue shirt and a cardigan today – why did it make her look so attractive? – and she was so deeply engrossed in her battered copy of 'Magnetic Fields' that she didn't even realise Eric was there until he was plugging in his laptop, and her ensuing smile tugged at something in Eric's chest.

"Ah, I was hoping I'd see you today." Charlotte's grin was infectious. "Thank you so much for the coffee, my friend."

"Not a problem," Eric replied, deliberately avoiding that intense X-ray stare. "It's the least I could do after ripping your favourite author to shreds."

Charlotte lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "Not everyone likes E. R. Torrington, and I can't force my opinions on everyone. Anyway, let me return the favour today and get you a cappuccino."

"No, it's all right--" However, it was too late as Sean was already setting down a mug in front of Eric, and the aroma of coffee was too much to resist. "Really, Charlotte."

"Really, Eric." Charlotte only seemed amused before diving right back into her book, an absurd little smile on her face that was both maddening and endearing, in an odd way.

"Is it really that good?" Eric said as he sipped at the foam, licking the froth off his lips, and Charlotte's gaze dipped down for a fraction of a second before meeting his eyes again. "I thought the plot was a little contrived for this one."

Now Charlotte seemed stunned. "You're having me on, right? This is the writer's best work. Have you even read this?"

Enough times to want to stab myself in the eyes, Eric thought. Aloud he said, "Actually yes I have. I happen to be familiar with this book."

"So what's your problem with it?" To Eric's surprise, Charlotte was getting up and heading over to his table, taking the seat opposite as though she didn't think Eric would mind at all. Which was infuriatingly true, actually.

"I thought the language was a little stilted," Eric said as he keyed in his laptop password, ignoring Charlotte's gaze. "The pacing was too fast at times, and at others there was too much exposition--"

"But I thought that was what made the novel different from the others," Charlotte interrupted out of excitement, and Eric was frankly amazed that he could get such a passionate reaction out of someone who seemed to be an intelligent and discerning reader.

"The reader is more privy to Wesley's thoughts and why he became the man he was," Charlotte continued. "There was so much rich backstory, particularly in that chapter that was set in Argentina. It made me want to book a plane ticket to Buenos Aires right there and then."

Eric was astonished. "Really?" He had wrestled with the Buenos Aires chapter forever, driving Emma and Markus up the wall with his constant revisions and self-doubting. "If you've ever been, you'd know that Torrington's descriptions failed to convey just how...alive Buenos Aires is."

Charlotte was shaking her head with a grin. "I've never been, but I felt like I was there. That's how good his writing is."

Eric was about to pick on another flaw of the book when they were interrupted by a polite cough, and he looked up to see a blond boy who was apparently one of the other regulars. "Hey guys, sorry to interrupt." He apologetically held up his iPad. "But this is running low on battery, and I need to pop into work for a while. Could I plug this into your laptop to charge it?"

"Sure, Alex," Charlotte replied, even though it wasn't her laptop. "But aren't you afraid we'd run off with it?"

Alex snorted. "Sean knows you and has your number. I highly doubt I'd find you hawking this out of the back of your car."

Eric made a show of sighing laboriously. "Give it here."

"Thanks!" Alex beamed at him as he gingerly handed it over. "I'll be back in an hour or so. In the meantime, feel free to play with any of the games you see there."

"Sure," Eric said as the boy sped off, and he plugged the white iPad cable into an available USB port. "They seem to know you here, Charlotte."

"I come here whenever I don't have classes at the university." Charlotte was already browsing through the games on the iPad, looking a little distracted.

"What do you teach?"

Here, Charlotte laughed before sitting up and grinning at Eric. "English literature."

"You're joking." Eric was stunned. "You're a literature professor and you love E. R. Torrington? It's like a Michelin chef choosing to eat at McDonald's."

Charlotte shot him a fond look of amusement. "In each of us, two natures are at war."

"Robert Louis Stevenson," Eric countered quickly, earning him a brilliant smile. "So we're pinning our awful literary tastes on Stevenson, are we?"

Charlotte only laughed, the low, pleasant tenor sending an unexplained thrill through Eric. However, Charlotte sat up when something caught her notice on Alex's iPad. "Oh look, there's a chess game here." She glanced at Eric. "Do you know how to play?"

Chess. Of course. Charlotte was starting to find more and more of Eric's buttons to push each day. But Eric kept his expression blandly bored, lifting his shoulder in a disinterested shrug. "I've played a few times."

"Great. Let's start a game." Charlotte turned the iPad so that the black pieces were facing Eric, and her finger dragged a white pawn forward.

Eric realised he was glad to continue. After all, it beat another afternoon of arguing over the merits of good writing.