Page 122 of Battle of the Bookstores

Alarm flickers through me, and I look up at him. “What do you mean, move on?”

“Come in and I’ll explain,” he says, taking my hand. He closes the door behind me and leads me to his couch, where we both sit. He leans forward, elbows on knees. “Remember when I told you about my friend who offered me a job at their new bookstore in Provincetown?”

Yes, but he told me about it way back in Maine, before we agreed to work together.

“What about it?”

“I called my friend and…” He hesitates, then presses on. “I’m going to drive down there to check it out this weekend. See the space, meet some of the other booksellers, talk details with Gretchen.”

Shock ricochets through me, and I straighten. “Wait, what? You’re taking that job?”

“It’s the perfect opportunity for me,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “There aren’t any other romance bookstores in Boston.”

“But it’s two hours away! Would you just…move there?”

He gives a slow nod, and my heart plummets. “My lease is up at the end of next month. Gretchen has a room I can rentuntil I find my own space. But I’ll come here on my days off, and you can visit me anytime. Plus we can always chat online like we’ve been doing for months, and we can FaceTime, too.”

I blink; it sounds like he’s worked all this out. Has this been his backup plan the whole time? The thought makes my lungs constrict. While I was putting everything into us working together, he had a safety net?

“And I—” He hesitates before clearing his throat and continuing. “I think maybe it’ll be good if I’m out of your way as you get the new store up and running. You need the freedom to run things according to your vision—”

“We had a visiontogether, Ryan. Remember?”

“I know, but unfortunately, that didn’t work out.”

The regret in his voice makes my tears well up again. This whole thing is my fault. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I really thought it would work. I tried my hardest, I gave this everything I had, and—”

“Shhh,” he says, pulling me against him. He kisses my head; strokes my hair. “It’s not your fault. Let’s just be glad I have something else to fall back on.”

I hear his unspoken words:Because you don’t.

It’s true; I have nothing else, no other job, no direction, and it’s so completelyRyanfor him to consider that. But nothing will be the same if we’re separated—with both of us in new positions, launching new stores, we’ll be lucky to get the same day off at the same time. That’s no way to start a new relationship. Surely he knows this.

Unless…maybe hewantssome distance from me.

I try to brush the thought aside, but it sticks in my mind like a splinter. Since our first night together, we’ve had countless discussions about our future as it pertains to the bookstore—but nothing about us. Our relationship. Now here we are, facing a crossroads, and he’s taking a detour.

He’ll only be a few hours away, I remind myself. He’s trying to do what’s best for both of us. Ryan Lawson is the kindest, most generous person I’ve ever met; he would never hurt me on purpose.I know this.But my logical brain doesn’t stand a chance against the old, familiar feelings of abandonment bubbling up. The feeling I used to get when Mom would disappear without warning, leaving me to figure everything out alone.

The same tightness grips my chest now, making it difficult to breathe. I know Ryan isn’t Mom, but the scared kid inside me is panicking, terrified of being left behind again. I’m spiraling, drowning, and I can’t seem to stop.Ryan’s leaving.He’s leaving the store, he’s leaving me, and my heart feels like it’s ripping apart.

My mother’s face flashes in my mind. Her desperate need to prove that permanence and stability and everlasting devotion aren’t just plot devices. I’ve never believed in any of that. Why would I? I’ve never seen any evidence that it’s real. Like I told Mom when she was in Mexico, left behind by yet another man:If he loved you, he wouldn’t leave you.

If Ryan loved me…

Abruptly, I stand and walk toward the windows. Tears blur my vision. Georgia pointed out that I’ve never had much of an emotional connection to anyone I’ve dated. Well, there’s a reason for that—I’ve neverallowedmyself to care too much.

And god, it’s so much easier that way.

Maybe I had the right idea all along, burying myself in books so I don’t have to feel all this. Some distance from Ryan might be good—I’ve started relying on him, and that’s never agood idea. I learned that with Mom. Now it’s happening again—I’m letting myself need someone, handing them the power to break my heart.

So I do what I’ve always done: pack up my emotions—confusion, hurt, abandonment—seal them in the farthest corner of my heart, and ice them over so they’ll never, ever thaw.

“When are you leaving?” I ask without looking back at Ryan.

“I was thinking I’d drive down tomorrow. Do you want to come with me? We could stay the night at a bed-and-breakfast—I’d love to get your opinion on everything.”

The thought of seeing him in some other bookstore makes my eyes flood with tears again. But I know this isn’t how he wanted things to turn out, and I never want to make him feel bad for trying to do what’s best.

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