Page 100 of Book People

‘All we’ve done since we met is fight,’ I say, because it’s true. ‘I don’t want to fight any more.’

She eyes me for a long minute. ‘Strange. You dig in and fight with him over the most petty bullshit, yet the one time it really matters, when it’s really important, you give up almost immediately.’

I feel like she’s sunk a knife into my side. ‘That’s not how it is.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Aisling gives me a stern look. ‘You were so angry when he didn’t include you in the festival and you fought hardto get Portable Magic involved. You wouldn’t take his no for an answer. Yet the moment he says no thanks to your declaration of love, you let him walk away.’

I swallow, my throat tight. She’s right and I know she is. ‘I didn’t think it would make any difference,’ I say. ‘He was so emphatic and so . . . angry, that I didn’t think fighting for it would help.’

‘Are you sure?’ She’s facing me and her green eyes are very direct. She’s not going to let me get away with this. ‘Or was it just that you didn’t have the guts?’

That hurts. It hurts a lot. But she doesn’t know about Jasper and what he did to me, so it’s not her fault. Also . . . she’s probably right.

She catches the look on my face and sighs. ‘I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean that. But how important is this to you? How important isheto you? You’re afraid, I get that. Being in love is scary. But if he’s worth fighting for then you have to fight for him.’

My eyes feel dry and prickly, and it’s true what she says. Iwantto fight for him. I want to fight for us and what we could have, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough.

‘I would,’ I say. ‘But I don’t want to fight on my own. He’s got to fight too, and I’m not sure he’s going to.’

Aisling is silent a moment. Then she picks up the teapot. ‘Come on. Let’s have a cup of tea and discuss how we’re going to get Sebastian Blackwood to pick up his sword and head the fuck into battle.’

Chapter Twenty-eight

Did you get my last note? You returned the book, but you didn’t answer. Is there something wrong, C? Please respond.

H

SEBASTIAN

It’s the cosplay cocktail evening, the last event of All the World’s a Page festival, and the pub is full of people in costume.

I was not a fan of the event and made no bones about it to Kate, but she insisted, so here I am, in a roomful of people in stupid costumes apparently having the time of their lives.

There are even literary-themed cocktails. A Virginia Woolf. A William Faulkner. A Nora Roberts and, of course, a Lisa Underwood.

I’m standing by the bar andnotsipping a themed cocktail. I have a tumbler of single malt, because while I am participating to a certain extent, I draw the line at drinking a cocktail called Nora Roberts.

By the fireplace, Lisa is being mobbed, a shifting mass of costumed festival-goers and locals surrounding her. I can’t help scanning the crowd for Fuckface, because, if he’s here, I’m going to have a word. Luckily he must have realised what’s good for him, because he’s not. Good fucking riddance.

I don’t stop scanning the crowd, though, because naturally it’s not Fuckface I’m actually looking for.

I’m looking for Miss Jones, and she’s not here either, and I feel her absence like a missing limb, phantom pain and all.

I don’t know why I’m looking for her. I made my stance clear last night, and now I have, I should be living my life as if nothing has happened.

I can’t, though. I’m still achingly conscious of her presence in the village, even when I can’t physically see her, and if this goes on, I might have to do something.

Maybe I might have to leave Wychtree entirely.

‘Who are you supposed to be?’ someone says from beside me.

I don’t turn because I know who it is. Dan.

‘An independent bookseller,’ I say, my attention restless as I look in vain for golden hair.

‘Wow,’ Dan mutters. ‘The likeness is uncanny.’

I glance at him.

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