When Our Stories Entwine

Chapter Nineteen - Jackson

Jackson -

The flight was just as quick as I anticipated, three hours. I begrudgingly had to sit in the middle seat because I was delayed after my talk with Maggie. I chose not to battle for the armrests and to sit with my arms crossed the entire flight. There should be a rule that if you have to sit in the middle seat you get both damn armrests.

After this morning my excitement for the book tour is gone and I'd like to just turn around and get back on the next flight home. But per Maggie's insistence, I push on, making my way to snatch the single duffle bag I've packed and head for the taxis.

Luckily my uber driver immediately picks up on my reluctance to being here and is silent most of the trip. I pull out my phone to text Maggie letting her know my flight arrived safely then pull out my itinerary.

Four different meet and greets in less than three days, one I'm heading to immediately, two tomorrow and a press conference right before the night is over. I'm heading back at dawn the third day and I'll have no setbacks. It's imperative that I'm home on time, I know for a fact Maggie won't delay meeting her father again. Her persistence can be fucking infuriating but at the same time one of the many reasons I love her.

I arrive at Elliot Bay Book Company on Capitol Hill and stand outside of the sign wondering if I'm at the right place. The building is small, much smaller than I'm used to and I wonder if it will fit a meet and greet for a best selling author. I'm not so big-headed as to assume that I will have a massive amount of fans showing tonight, but I'm not sure if this place even has room for a routine meet and greet.

I enter the simple glass doors and I'm immediately swarmed by fans holding their copies of 'After All' with only a few holding other titles I've written. An elderly gentleman who I assume works for this bookstore, gently coaxes the women into giving me space and walks me to an area they have set up in the back.

The store is much larger than it looked from the front with multi-levels and bookshelves towering to the ceilings. It has a modern artsy feel with industrial lighting and redwood beams for support littering the space.

I'll admit the initial manner I dealt with fans before I met Maggie was a bit fake and indifferent. These women with their idealistic feelings of love used to bore me and it bordered disgust until I met Maggie. I actually pity them now, they're searching for what I've already found between the pages of my books.

My open mind quickly falters as the women instantly begin to test my patience. Theatrical weeping from several women sound like nails on a chalkboard and I'm instantly uneasy.

I try to be patient as the woman in front of me raves about the male characters' compassion and devotion as if he's anything more than a fictional personality constructed in my mind. My jaw clenches as I prepare to respond once her long-winded speech has ended.

Be nice.

I hear Maggie's voice in my head and relax my jaw. Maggie always makes it a point to poke my jaw when she sees me start to get worked up. She's become exceptionally good at noticing every indication when I'm stressed.

During a fan photograph, a middle-aged woman's perfectly manicured hand grazes my thigh causing me to jump.

Fucking slag!

I almost shout, but I imagine Maggie pinching me under the table to keep my temper in check and bite my tongue.

After I've given individual attention to each enthusiast, I promptly grab my duffel and hail another Uber to my hotel. Instead of springing for a more lavish suite I've decided to stay at a place that makes the most sense according to location.