A Fresh Start

 “Why not?” prodded Grace.

He looked annoyed.

“I’m not a people person.”

Now Grace was genuinely intrigued.

“Your characters are all very real. Very flawed, very… Well, I might not like many of them if I ever met them, but I find them all believable. How do you do that if you don’t like meeting people? You can’t find that much nuance to insert into your books unless you interact with people.”

Alan leaned forward, drawn into the conversation despite himself.

“I have a system. I make them behave rationally and logically, according to the character chart I make for them. Then I make them do something irrational, and base their actions from that moment on that particular moment.”

Grace frowned.

“So you deliberately screw your outlines to hell when you write?”

Alan chuckled.

“The outlines are for me to understand them. Once I do, to make them real, I need to make sure they don’t always act as it makes sense to me. I know that most of what makes sense to me won’t make sense to others.”

Grace chuckled.

“I’ll say. You got married to avoid speaking at events!”

Alan grinned.

“I found a companion who will amuse and interest me, who will competently take care of the parts of my profession that give me a blinding headache. Don’t you think that’s the logical and intelligent thing to do?”

Grace returned the grin. The man really was quite irresistible. Did he have any idea how charming he could be?

“Logical and intelligent aren’t two things people are when it comes to something like marriage. For many, that would seem like the irrational thing you make your characters do.”

“Is that what you think?”

Grace paused for a moment.

“I think it needs a certain distance from your emotions to make such a choice. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I couldn’t have done it if I hadn’t already been such a fan of your work. It feels as if you pour a lot of yourself into your books. You make your readers feel as if they know you. So to me, it isn’t marrying a stranger. It’s marrying a man I respect. It’s significantly different for you.”

Alan nodded in acknowledgment, but the car drew to a halt.

“I’m sorry, Grace, we’re home. Now, you will need security codes and clearance. I’ve got everything here. Don’t forget your keycard when you go out. You’ll be stranded until Rachel or I come by if you forget it. I know there’s a lot to go through, but there’s time enough for all of that tomorrow. For now, why don’t I show you around, and you can get some rest?”

That sounded good to Grace. The stress of the day was beginning to catch up with her, not to mention the champagne. She felt as if she were ready to fall asleep on her feet right at that moment.

She got out of the car and saw that they were outside what looked like an extremely swanky condo complex.

Well, of course it was swanky, thought Grace. But it also looked like a bit of a fortress. She went through three layers of security to get to the private elevator, where there was yet another layer of security, and more codes.

Finally, the doors slid open smoothly and Grace found herself in what was her new home.

“I’m afraid it hasn’t been decorated for elegance. I just… Well, I didn’t want decorators to come in, to be perfectly honest, so I just ordered a lot of things online.”

Grace looked around at the expensive hodgepodge that was his décor. There were wall murals that looked like decals, unless he was an artist as well as a writer. But with his eye for decorating – or lack thereof – she didn’t think so.

The couch looked comfortable, but it was an eye-searing yellow. The chairs were black, which should’ve gone with anything, but they were a glossy black that shone enough to blind most people, too. The windows had a couple of curtains of diaphanous white material, and the rest were blinds. The carpets were the horrible beige of dried puke.

“I…”

“You can say it, it’s pretty bad,” said Alan.

She glanced at him and saw that he looked sheepish. Grace grinned.

“I sure as hell hope this isn’t a reflection of the real you,” she told him.

Alan chuckled.

“You can do whatever you like with it. You’ll have an expense account for all such things, of course, quite separate from your stipend. I don’t know why I got the couch. It looked comfortable.”

Grace walked over and sat down on it, testing. She wiggled her butt a bit on it.

“Well, it is extremely comfortable, so we have to keep this one. But maybe I’ll reupholster it, or sew a slip cover for it. Are there any colors that you particularly object to?”

“That yellow.”

Grace chuckled appreciatively.

She was given a tour of the condo – in three levels, penthouse, with an indoor pool and a Jacuzzi, apart from more balconies than she could remember. Her suite was exquisitely furnished and decorated.

“You didn’t do this,” said Grace.

Alan laughed.

“Damn right I didn’t, and you should be very glad I didn’t, too. Rachel had this done when I wasn’t home. Do you like it?”

It was done in shades of cream with highlights of a pale, champagne gold. It was beautiful.

“I think it’s perfect,” said Grace, and she meant it.

 “You haven’t shown me the kitchen. I’m not the cook my mama is, but she taught me a thing or two.”

Alan grinned, looking suddenly much younger, and walked out, motioning for her to follow.

He turned around abruptly and looked her in the eye.

“You made a very beautiful bride, Grace,” he said, softly and sincerely, and nearly made her heart stop.