Page 55 of Book People

I can’t come tonight. I’m so sorry. I miss you so much it hurts

C

KATE

I unlock the bookshop’s front door and turn the sign over to ‘Open’. Then I stand a minute, staring through the glass to Blackwood Books across the road.

He’s finally changed his front window. A large map hangs as a background and, if I’m not much mistaken, it’s a map of Middle Earth. Stacks of books are arranged artistically in front of it – multiple editions ofThe Lord of the Rings,The SilmarillionandThe Hobbit, as well as books about the making of the movies, including a guidebook to Hobbiton in New Zealand.

It’s a wonderful window and it makes me want to do a companion piece. I’m already thinking of a sign I can put up. ‘If you lovedThe Lord of the Rings, you’ll love these fabulous fantasy reads too!’

I can see his tall figure moving around in the shop and my breath catches.

It’s been two days since our night together and, while I knew it would destroy me, I’m still trying not to let it. He didn’t linger that morning, even though I offered to make him breakfast. He only shook his head, kissed me hard, then left without another word.

We didn’t need to repeat what we’d already said to each other. We both knew it was only going to be for one night.

Yet ever since then I’ve felt . . . flat. I’m annoyed about it. I should have known that I’d feel shitty after he left and I do, and it’s galling. I hate being right sometimes.

He hasn’t contacted me, not for two days, and that’s making me feel crappy too. I haven’t texted him, it’s true, but I want to give him space. And I need space for me, since mooning around after him like a lovesick teenager isn’t working for me either.

I’m not a teenager and I’mnotlovesick.

That night with him was the best sex I’d ever had in my entire life. It was healing after the awfulness of Jasper. But good sex doesn’t mean love. I’m not that stupid.

I turn away from the door, ignoring the complicated mix of feelings sitting inside me, and go back to the counter. I start up the computer and check my email. There’s a message from Lisa, so I open it, my heart racing.

She loves the notes. She loves the thought of Wychtree. She’s between books and has been looking for some inspiration and this might be it. She’d love to attend the festival and, no, she won’t require a fee!

A surge of adrenaline hits me and I give the air a quick punch. This is wonderful news. This is brilliant. We have our headliner.

I make for the door again, all set to dash across the road to tell Sebastian. But as I reach for the door handle, I stop.

And take a breath.

And think.

Is it really a good idea to be in his presence again? And so soon? Should I text him instead? Respect the distance he’s putting between us?

I hate these questions. I hate how uncertain I feel. I’ve felt more in charge of my life since coming to Wychtree than I ever have, yet I’m not in charge of this and I don’t like it.

I was right, hehasdestroyed me. Like Jasper destroyed me, but in a different way.

Jasper was sneaky and sly: he took little pieces of me away, bit by bit. Pieces I hadn’t even known I was missing until the night he wanted me to put my grieving aside for him and I realised he’d effectively deleted all my friends from my life.

Like that picture of Dorian Gray, I finally saw him for who he really was. Not the handsome, successful man I’d been living with and loving for four years, but a petulant narcissist.

Sebastian is handsome too, but he isn’t a narcissist. He’s intense and full-on, but he doesn’t lie, and not everything is about him. He doesn’t take things away from me, either; he gives them back. Calling me brilliant, calling me beautiful.

However, I can’t let my feelings about him dictate my behaviour. The festival is something external that we’re organising and it has nothing to do with any relationship we may or may not have. It’s separate.

This life I’ve built here, too, is separate. It’s mine, in a way the past four years with Jasper weren’t, and if I want any chance at staying in charge of it, I have to keep it separate.

I can’t let what happened between Sebastian and me affect the festival or our businesses, and there will always be things that we need to discuss. So to hell with a text. He should know about Lisa and I need to tell him personally.

I pull open the door and walk with determination over to Blackwood Books. The bell chimes as I go in.

Sebastian is at a shelf, talking to Lucy, one of the local estate agents. She’s tall and sleek in her white suit, her black hair perfectly coiffed. Aisling told me once that she had a crush on Sebastian and I see it in action now. The delicate blush in her cheeks. The smile. Her attention focusing on him.

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