Page 83 of Book People

I’m afraid of what being with a man like Sebastian could do to me.

I’m afraid that I’ll never be enough for him.

I’m afraid that, if I give him my heart, he’ll take everything, like Jasper did.

I’m also afraid that my heart might be on its way to him already.

The high street is quiet as I walk down it.

Quiet, as I pause in front of Blackwood Books.

I told him earlier I’d be at his place tonight, but then he left the pub without a word and now I don’t know what to do. Does he even want my company tonight? Will we have an awkward conversation about why he left? Will I have to pretend that Lisa talking fate and love in the context of us doesn’t mean anything to me? And will I have to say yet again that casual is fine?

I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I’m a good enough actress.

Because the fact is that casual isn’t fine and it never was, and I’ve been lying to myself this past week.

I thought he’d be the one who wouldn’t be able to manage the middle ground, but, as it turns out, he’s not the problem.

The problem is me.

I turn from Blackwood Books and go home alone instead.

Chapter Twenty-two

I wish you would talk about it with me. I wish you would let me help you. I live for the day when you come to my bed and stay there, and he becomes only a memory.

H

SEBASTIAN

I stare at the laptop screen as the post I’ve just written appears on the Wychtree Village Facebook group. It reminds everyone that Lisa’s signing in Portable Magic is in just a few hours and that any villager who wants to attend gets first dibs on tickets to her session tonight. We had to move her talk from Blackwood Books to the village hall in the end, because we had too many people who wanted to come. I thought it would be possible to stream it, but the setup was tricky and difficult, and it was much easier to have it in the hall instead. I’m a bit disappointed, since having it here would have been great exposure. Then again, my disappointment is offset by selling far more tickets than we’d anticipated, due to having it in the hall.

We’re allowing villagers special discounts and priority seating – Kate’s excellent idea – and in the post I’ve also included a sign-up link to the new Blackwood Books newsletter.

I glance up from the laptop to check on my customers.

The shop is heaving.

All the World’s a Page literary festival was officially launched last night with a party at the Wychtree Arms, and judging by the number of people in attendance – mostly out-of-towners – it’s going to be one hell of a success.

It’s not a long festival – a couple of days only – which is a good thing, because it’s not only my shop that’s heaving, but the entire village. Those with businesses are ecstatic. Those who hate outsiders are furious. But no one can deny that it’s going to be good for the village coffers, and that, in the end, will silence the naysayers.

I’ve just presided over Augusta Heroine’s poetry reading/performance, which had an excellent attendance. Quite unexpected for poetry. Copies of her verse novel are selling like hot cakes, which, again, is unexpected yet very pleasing.

I’ve got a newsletter form displayed prominently on my counter and already have a number of sign-ups from people, both local and not. It means I’ll need to get my act together and put the finishing touches to my inaugural issue, but that will have to be after the festival, when I have time.

Right now, I should be mingling with the poets and festival attendees, yet I’m staring down at my laptop and thinking about the dinner last week instead. Thinking about Kate’s face when Lisa said Kate and I being together was fate. How something had flickered in her eyes and how I didn’t know what it was, only that it was something. Then Lisa offering her an editor position, and me . . .

Well. I left. I shouldn’t have, but I did. Because the thought of her leaving the village altogether made me want to howl atthe moon like a wolf, and I had to get out of there before I did something completely ridiculous like reach across the table and drag her into my arms. Not exactly the kind of atmosphere we wanted to project for Lisa’s first visit to Wychtree.

I was almost glad Kate didn’t come back to my place that night. She sent me a ‘too tired’ text, which was fine, because I wasn’t in any state to have a conversation that didn’t include me being a demanding bastard, and I figured she’d already had enough of that to last a lifetime.

I didn’t see her until the following day. By then I’d calmed down and we didn’t speak about the night before, but I’ve been thinking about it almost constantly.

It’s not surprising that Lisa offered her a position. Kate’s an amazing woman and the truth is that she’s wasted here in Wychtree. She’s managed to get her bookshop off the ground and be part of village life in only two months and that’s an incredible feat. Where else can she go from here? She’s reached the pinnacle of achievement in our tiny village and now there’s nowhere for her to go. She should be out in the world sharing her expertise, not trapped here in a casual-sex relationship with her competition.

In fact, I’ve come to the conclusion that it would be better if she did go. She’s taking up too much of my brain space as it is, and I think I’d be better off if she wasn’t around. I should talk to her about it, but the past week has been fraught with festival preparations and we’ve been too busy to discuss anything else.

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