Making It Personal by Wells, C. (best non fiction books of all time txt) 📗

“Yeah, Ed, some of it’s down to me, that’s true, but I’d say both parties are at fault here.” He met Blake’s eyes. Blake stared at him for a few seconds before nodding. Ed clearly noted Blake’s reaction. His hands, which had been clenched into fists, relaxed.

“Okay, then sort it out, the pair of ya.” Ed glared at both of them, waiting until both men acknowledged him before withdrawing from the room.

“Come in and close the door,” Blake told him. Will complied and then stood, mug in hand, feeling distinctly awkward. Blake gestured toward the sofa and Will walked across to sit down. Blake looked down at his desk and Will’s stomach churned. The silence was killing him.

Blake opened his mouth to speak and Will held up a hand to stop him. Blake’s brow furrowed.

“Look, before you say anything,” Will began, “I’m sorry for the abrupt way I left here last night. That was rude.” And it wasn’t Blake’s fault. His boss had no idea why his last remark was received so badly. “You apologized, after all.”

“Yeah, and then I went and said something else to upset you.” Blake spoke quietly. “I can’t tell you how that makes me feel, Will. I hurt you last night—not once but twice. I can only ask you to forgive me, and to accept my promise that I will try to make it up to you somehow. I don’t want to lose you.”

Will could see the pain in his eyes. Blake wasn’t angry with him—Blake was obviously unhappy about causing Will any pain. Okay, so he meant not losing Will from his company: Will wasn’t naive enough to think anything different. But it was clear to Will that Blake cared. Any residual ill feeling he might still have borne toward his boss melted in that instant. A memory of Richard flashed through Will’s mind. Here was another genuinely caring man who Will felt compelled to trust. For the second time in his life, Will wanted to share with another human being.

“Listen, there’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

Blake’s brow cleared. “What?”

Will got up and went back into his office to retrieve his briefcase. He pulled out a USB flash drive and handed it to Blake. Blake took it, looking puzzled.

“There’s a novel on this that I’d like you to read.”

Blake stared at the black metallic flash drive. The crease between his eyes deepened. “A novel?”

Will nodded. “Yeah. When you’ve read it, we can talk some more.” He gave Blake a feeble smile. “But right now I need to get on and organize your calendar so you know what you’re doing from one day to the next.” He turned to go to his office, but as he reached the door, Blake’s words stopped him.

“Aren’t you going to tell me who wrote it?”

Will turned back to him. “I did.” And without waiting to see Blake’s reaction, he left the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Will cuddled up to his pillow, inhaling the aroma of fresh, clean sheets. He always loved that just-washed smell. It was even better in the summer when he could take advantage of the weather to dry everything on the line which stretched out on the rooftop at the back of his apartment building. And of course there was another advantage to laundry days—laying down a towel on the ground behind the billowing sheets and stretching out on it on the nude, letting his body soak up the sun’s rays. Heaven. Sheer heaven.

He glanced at the clock. Nearly one in the morning and he still couldn’t sleep. He knew why, of course. Ever since he’d given Blake the novel that morning, he’d done nothing but think about it. The day seemed to crawl by. Throughout his meetings with Lizzie, Peter and Rick, during his lunch break—C’mon, let’s face it, he told himself, every fucking minute—his thoughts had never strayed far from Blake. Was he reading it right now? Did he love it? Hate it? Round and round his thoughts went, like a hamster on a wheel. He was really going out on a limb here. Entrusting Blake with the book was huge.

Beside him on the bedside table, his phone vibrated. Will frowned. Who the hell was texting him at this hour? He glanced at the screen—Blake.

You awake?

Smiling, Will hit speed dial. “No, I was asleep. Your text woke me up.” He heard the hitch in Blake’s breath and snorted. “I’m kidding. Why aren’t you asleep? You’re not still working, are you?” His boss badly needed to get some work-life balance going.

There was a pause before Blake spoke. “I couldn’t put it down.”

Oh. Oh wow. Will was momentarily stunned.

“Bloody hell, Will, it’s… it’s…” Silence. “Will, it’s damn good.”

Will suddenly felt about ten feet tall. Warmth flooded through him. He’d poured so much into the book.

“I have to ask. Is this all your imagination, or is it based on a real person? Because the main character, Terry…” Will swallowed. “Oh my God, Will, the life he led. It had me crying into my pillow. And when Donald found him, and took him in….” Will heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Oh fuck. Blake was crying.

Will waited until Blake’s breathing was more controlled before he spoke. “Yes, it’s based on a real person.” He swallowed heavily, unable to believe what he was about to say. “Terry is me, Blake.” Silence. Will waited anxiously. “Blake?” Long seconds ticked by.

At last he heard noise at the other end. A sniffle. Deep breathing.

“Now I understand. It all makes sense. Will, thank you. Thank you for trusting me enough to let me read it.”

Will’s heart soared to hear those words. No condemnation. No disgust. Just acceptance.

“Can you tell me some more? I want to hear it.”

Fuck. Will froze, unsure of how to react. It had been a long time since he’d told his tale. Writing the book had been hard enough. It