If everything went according to plan, it would be Matt's dad who'd inherit the family publishing company. But Jeffrey, being the young aspiring actor, never showed such interest his father, Matt's granddad, expected him to have. Unlike his dad, Matt took after his grandpa, and ended up leading the business himself.

Matt dedicated his whole life to getting where he was standing - well, sitting - at the moment. He himself was a writer, studied literature, and had spent uncountable hours by his granddad's side, peeking over his shoulder and picking up all he needed to know to lead the company once the two generations older version of himself couldn't do it anymore.

So Matt was sitting in his place, but way more often was somewhere out of office doing whatever he had to, not only to keep his company on the steady course but for it to make it accelerate.

Grace, being one of his editors, stuck wishing to be one of his authors, knew what it took to get to his graces. All it took was one promising manuscript, but she still didn't find herself in the position of successfully reproducing the books she'd been working with every day. But she kept trying over and over, harder and harder so that one of these days Matt would say the words she needed to hear so bad. She didn't care about opinions of others, even though she could take her attempts elsewhere, Matt's word was the holy word, and that was the only place she was going.

"Grace, you can come in now," Matt's office manager told Grace. Back when Matt told Grace he wanted to hire her, to be his office manager was the first position he offered her and that should have been her first clue. He knew her writing, they were classmates. They were reading their texts to each other, breaking them down and evaluating them. And he was giving her such a hard time. None of her other classmates ever heard such harsh comments she heard from him. But she thrived under his criticism, graduating at the top of the class alongside him. Through it all, he never considered her as a writer for his house but she was determined to pursue that path anyway. Matt's praise will be hers to hold.

"Hey, grab a seat," he greeted her, "what you've got for me there?" He immediately went for the envelope she held in her hands as she entered his office. She would swear, he could smell Bert's ink. Her papers were printed by the same printer but never made him react like that. "Is that from Bert?"

"Yeah, he wrote it before..." She could hardly control her thoughts. She spent whole night tending to Bert, even though he slept through most of it. When she finally managed to get him off the ground and to his bed, the dark blue sky was brightening up with the first light. However late/early it was, she was too exhausted to sleep, she passed her bedtime being on the watch.

On her way for a cup of coffee, she discovered a printed material for Matt she didn't notice before. Bert always left it on the table by the door for her so she took it on her way to work when he was writing until the morning light and didn't want to wake her. She took the print and spent the next few hours reading it and inspecting the wall with Bert's map. She was still alert, though, listening for any sign of discomfort coming from Bert's room. She left his door open and kept checking on him every once in a while.

The last time she did so before leaving for work, he awoke under her touch as she stroked his tormented face. He covered her hand with his and brought it to his lips.

"I'm sorry, Grace... Love you," he whispered never opening his eyes, falling back asleep right away. There he was!

"I love you, too," she sighed, her words carried slightly different weight than his. She left for work with his words heavy on her chest and her worried mind stayed behind with him.

"Did Mary visit again?" Matt brought her stray mind back into his office.

"The song remains the same," she nodded. Matt knew about everything that was going on, Bert was his friend as well, they were band-mates as well and sometimes when they were playing a gig in some of the local bars, Bert's mood would catch him unprepared, with Matt ending up literary bringing Bert home. With Grace's help of course because she's always there when they're playing.

"You haven't slept a bit again, have you? You certainly look like you didn't," Matt examined her.

"Oh why, thank you, sweet as ever," she rolled her eyes at him.

"No, no, no, you being too sweet, that is the problem," he shrugged, "you'll spoil him rotten."

"The only one rotten here is Mary but we're not here to rant about her, are we?"

"No, we're absolutely not." Matt clicked his tongue. "I called you in here because I was also up late last night and I read the pages you gave me."

Grace blinked few times before she could react to his words. She was so tired she considered her brain missing out and fooling her.

"You... What... Sorry, you ... You read it?" She struggled to get out one comprehensible sentence.

"You seriously need some rest, Grace. Yes, I read it. But I don't know if what I have to say will be any good to you now, being in this state."

Matt actually reading her story! Finally! Matt reading her original work, her words! Oh boy, she really was tired but Matt's words were everything she needed to become fully awake and aware.

"I'm good, Matt, I'm great actually. So talk... how was it? Was it any good?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was good." Grace's exhaustion made her forget Matt's definition of the word 'good'. "It was good, except... it sucked. Big time." Good = bad, not enough, wasted effort = it sucks, big time.

"You are writing about love. So why does it feel you don't even know what love is? It's so artificial, so general, so... not lived. How do you expect readers to feel passion from it when you put none into it, in the first place? I kept wondering... Were you ever loved, Grace? And I mean physically like men and women do?"

"You're not talking about love, Matt. You're talking about you know what and I won't be part of that conversation with you again."

"I'm just telling you if you want to write it believably, I'm here to help," he offered himself.

"You can't be serious right now!" She stood up. The nerve he had bringing up their private stuff and tying it with this. He always found a way how to let her know he was available for her any time. It was beyond her to explain to him she didn't love him like that. She never have and never will.

"Okay, sit back down, Grace. I was just saying..."

"Back down, Matt," she warned him.


"Alright, okay... Would you sit back down? Please?" His voice signaled he was done.

She slid back to her seat.

"There's a good side to it," he went on about her writing like nothing had happened. "You're not lacking technique and skills, you know that. What you're lacking is inspiration and therefore I want you to go and get some experience. It does not have to be me, I get it." He hardly ever did. "There's this writer convention in New York, I want you to go, attend some of it and then go out and live a little okay? You're spending the night over there."

"Alone?"


"Yes, alone, just like your character. Wear her shoes for a night."

"You're insane. I can't possibly experience everything I'm writing about. What if I'm writing about death... what would you want me to do then?"

"Yeah, Grace, there are things you can't just try. But there are some you can. Take the rest of the day off, grab what you need for a night or two. You're leaving tonight."

"I can't just go tonight. Bert..."


"He's a big boy, he'll manage."


Grace contemplated for a while.
"Promise me you'll go check on him."


"I promise. I have to talk to him about his book anyway."

"Okay, I'll do it."

"You never had another option. Only if you want me to come with that is."

"Shut up, Matt, or so help me..."


"Grace, come on..."


"I'm not listening to this, Matt. Send me the details."

Grace burst out of his office furious. Matt's office manager was used to this, it happened often in this office, Matt was brutally honest to anybody. The only thing was she wasn't at her desk at the moment. There was only one man sitting in the lounging area looking kind of startled.

Grace stopped in her tracks. Looking at the empty desk and then at him.

"She's just getting me a coffee." He raised his hands in surrendering gesture unsure if she was continuing with her temper.

"I'm so sorry you had to hear that. He's not like that all the time, I swear, you have nothing to worry about going in there."

"Oh well, I should know," he scoffed.

Grace furrowed her brow at the man, she never saw him in the building before. And then it hit her.

"Oh my goodness, you're his dad, aren't you?"

"That's me," he shrugged.


"We're not always like this, I promise. We're actually really good friends."

"You don't have to explain anything, he's very peculiar."

"Please, don't let me hold you, he'll be happy to see you."

"It was nice to meet you..." He hesitated.

"Grace," she added quickly.

"Nice to meet you, Grace, I'm Jeffrey," he smiled and there was no way Grace wouldn't smile back.

"Nice to meet you, too." They shook hands but didn't let go immediately.

"See you around," Jeffrey secured her hand in place with his other hand.

"Yeah, if Matt lets us," Grace added sarcastically.

"Dad?" Matt materialized in the doorway, interrupting their bonding moment. Grace saw he couldn't wait to meet his dad.

Jeffrey leaned closer to her and lowered his voice, they were sharing a secret. "I'll make him," he said amused, winked at Grace and left for his son's office.

And that was a deal.

___

Author's Note:

There... we've got all the boys out in the open, the stormy clouds are on the horizon. How bad is the storm going to be? Will they weather it?

Enjoy the calm before the storm and get your ☂️ ready.

Thank you for reading. 💋

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