Page 56 of Touch My Shelves

I shift uneasily on the sofa. Some of what she’s saying is coming a little too close for comfort. I didn’t find the online ad; my sister-in-law did. My other sister-in-law suggested I open a bookstore because that was one of the options the promotion suggested.

“But I think the most telling of all is your novel. You started it in college and you still haven’t finished it. Why is that, do you think?”

I turn and stare at her, my mind blanking. I shrug.

“It’s your dream, Pop. If you finish, you’ll have to do something with it. And that right there is the chance you aren’t willing or brave enough to take. Is your book going to be accepted by a publishing company… or declined? There’s a chance it could go either way. One would rip your dreams apart and one would be exactly as you always imagined. If you don’t finish, you don’t have to worry about which one. Your dreams are safe. That’s too big a commitment for you to handle.”

Naudi reaches up and dabs a few tears from my cheeks. I deflate and slump back on the couch. I can’t think about this now. Am I deflecting? Yes.

Naudi leans over and wraps her arms around me. Resting my head on her shoulder, I give a shuddering breath of release.

“Don’t let your insecurities stop you from going for something that could be incredible. What are you afraid of, Pop? Why can’t you follow your heart?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and gruffly admit, “Because my heart leads me to a life I don’t want.”

Then she leaves me with a parting thought that will stay with me for a very long time. “Are you sure about that?”

CHAPTER 20

BRAX

I’m listening to Cecelia, my publicist, rattle on about upcoming events with half an ear as my fingers drum on the desk. Something has been off with Poppy this week. Nothing I can put my finger on, it’s just a feeling I have.

The festival events have kept her busy at the store, but it’s more than that. The corners of her eyes don’t fully tip when she smiles, and when we’re alone, she’s desperate for closeness—which I don’t have a problem with. Maybe it’s our impending departure in little over a week.

Realizing that Poppy will no longer be in our lives makes my breath catch. The looming prospect of not having her in my arms at night and waking up to her messy purple hair and sleepy grins has started me thinking about what if this thing between us doesn’t end.

I know she’s against marriage and, frankly, I’m a bit skittish about it myself… but why couldn’t we write our own narrative about what “this” is?

“Brax?” Cecelia interrupts my thoughts.

“No, I’m not coming home a day earlier than next Saturday.” I’m not missing a single minute left with Poppy.

In her most coaxing voice, she tries a new angle. “This is an incredible opportunity for your career.”

I couldn’t care less. I have all the money I’ll ever need. I write because I love it and my fans love my words. All the rest I could give up today. My life would be stress-free if I could just stay on the island and write.

And be with Poppy.

That last bit I gloss over in my mind like I’m refusing to admit I want her in our lives.

“I’ve given you my decision. Tell them if they want me to host a mastermind class next month, I’ll do it, but not this time.”

I hang up without waiting for her reply. Pushing up from my chair, I go in search of my daughter. She was with Poppy at the store this morning, but Alec brought her back home for her afternoon lessons.

I’m halfway expecting the schoolroom to be empty, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find her staring at her computer. She looks up with a grin when she sees me in the doorway.

“Want to go for a walk on the beach?”

“Heck, yeah!” She jumps up and then into my arms.

I hug her tightly and smell her. A habit I’ve loved since she was a baby. Nothing smells better, or at times worse, than a baby.

We grab jackets on the way out because there’s a cool, fall snap to the ocean breeze. Hand in hand, we walk close to the water’s edge. We walk for at least five minutes when I notice something strange. My usually chatty child has been silent. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Her adorable nose scrunches upward in frustration. “Daddy, I’m ten years old. I’m not a baby!”

I look up to the clear blue sky. Lord help me when she’s a teenager. “You are correct. But I still want to know what’s going on in your intelligent young woman’s head. You’ve been strangely quiet. Are you planning another decapitation? Because, if you are, I should warn you that I don’t think Poppy will give you the reaction you are looking for.”

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