Page 65 of The Mended Hearts Bookshop

Ash leaned forward, putting out her hands so that Pen could take them. “Pen, this isn’t the end of the world, you know? I’m literally sitting here at this table telling you that I like you. I like you a lot.”

Not enough to stay though, said a little voice at the back of Pen’s head. But she forced herself to smile at least a little. “I know,” she said. But it wasn’t going to be the same, was it? Ash was already independent enough, already set in her own ways,and Pen was worried that without a constant reminder, Ash would simply… disappear off into the smoke of the city.

“We can make this work,” Ash said, squeezing Pen’s fingers. “You can come and visit me in London.”

“Mmm,” said Pen, because she really didn’t want to go to London. She found it dirty and overwhelming and not at all nice. Mind you, if Ash were there, perhaps it would be nicer.

“And I can come here and visit,” said Ash.

“Mmm,” Pen said again.

“And in a while, maybe a few months, maybe a year, we can re-evaluate,” Ash said, sitting back and letting go of Pen’s hands. “What do you think?”

“It sounds… sensible,” Pen said. Because it did. Eminently sensible. And not at all romantic, not even a little.

“It is sensible. It’s a good plan, a solid one.”

“But it doesn’t take into account the fact that I’ll miss you,” Pen burst out, unable to keep her feelings inside. “The fact that I want to have you right next door, I want to have you here with me, I want to see you every day and be able to touch you and hold you and all the rest.”

Ash’s face had gone pale and Pen knew that she was overdoing it, that she was scaring her, putting her off, so she slammed her mouth shut. But she’d already said too much.

“Pen, I can’t do this. Not that way. I just… I can’t. It’s too much, too soon, I need my space.” Ash’s eyes were pleading. “I need you to be my sunshine, I need your optimism, please. Just for this. Just for now. I need you to have hope.”

She was being selfish and unfair wanting Ash to stay, she could see that. So she nodded. “Alright, I’ll try.”

“It’s a shock,” Ash said. She smiled a little. “You know, I was just getting used to the idea of owning a bookshop and now it turns out that I don’t own one at all. It’s a shame really, I’m goingto have to find a new way to finance my new-found romance book addiction.”

Pen sighed. “Maybe the new owner will want to sell. There’s always hope in that. We haven’t heard back from the council, but maybe they’ll give us the money and we’ll try.” She tapped Ash’s hand. “You can have a discount if we all buy it.”

Ash smiled back. “Thank you. And… if there’s something that I can do to help with all that, just let me know.” She scratched her head. “At least I don’t have to learn to crochet. I looked it up online, it looks like tying very complicated knots with sticks.”

“Mmm, yes, maybe the crochet circle isn’t for you,” Pen said, holding onto Ash’s fingers. She was quiet for a minute. “Ash, I have to ask. Are you really sure about all of this?”

Ash looked down at their twined hands. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’m sure. I need to go home, we need more time, but I honestly think we can do this.”

Pen’s heart hurt. “It’s odd, you being the optimistic one,” she said. And she tried very, very hard not to think of being alone.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Ash looked around the little flat that wasn’t hers and imprinted it on her memory. This was an important place and one that she wouldn’t forget. As she hauled her case downstairs she almost tripped over the cat, lying sprawled across the bottom of the stairs.

“I hope you luck out with your new owner,” she said.

Fabio meowed in return.

It was early still, the light gray and muted, as Ash walked out into the bookshop, smelling the scent of it, feeling the stories in their pages, knowing that she could have been happy here if things had turned out differently.

She made it all the way to the door before she turned back.

The book was lying exactly where Pen had said it would be, on the counter, under the phone. She’d seen it every day and ignored it. But not now. Now, without thinking too hard about it, she picked up Mary’s journal and slid it into her bag.

She had no right to it, it wasn’t hers. What it contained was none of her business. But she felt like she’d gotten to know Maryjust a little here and she wasn’t quite ready to let her go. Nobody would notice, she thought, as she unlocked the door and stepped out into the grayness.

The little rental car was still where she’d left it and she stowed her case in it before she went back to the bakery. The door pushed open easily and she walked inside.

“Pen?”

Pen appeared in the doorway, a smudge of flour on her nose, wiping her hands on a towel. “So, you’re going?”

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