Page 86 of Book People

Chapter Twenty-three

Don’t do anything rash, darling H. If you do something to him, he’ll hurt you back and I couldn’t stand that. I’d also probably lose the teashop and I can’t bear that thought.

C

KATE

I’m on the door at the village hall, taking people’s tickets as they come in for Lisa’s talk, and the queue is huge. Almost as big as it was at Portable Magic earlier today when she had her signing. We sold out of books completely and had to turn people away, and, honestly, it was the most thrilling experience of my life.

Afterthe drama of the books was sorted out, of course.

Thank God for Sebastian.

The books were supposed to arrive in plenty of time, but there were delays and the supply company promised me faithfully that they would get them to me today. So when they didn’t turn up, I almost had a panic attack.

I couldn’t think of who to go to for help except Sebastian. Things have been awkward between us since that dinner with Lisa and me not coming to him that night – we didn’t talk about it afterwards and I was glad, because I didn’t want to, and then things got too busy with the festival – but . . . There’s a strange distance between us now, and an awkwardness that wasn’t there before.

Even so, I didn’t think twice about going to him. He’s more experienced in the bookselling trade than I am, and he has contacts, and he dealt with everything with calmness and authority.

He literally saved the day, and if I hadn’t already fallen for him before, I would have done so the moment he took my hand in his big, warm one, looking at me steadily with those incredible blue eyes of his. Telling me everything would be okay, that he’d handle it.

It sounds pathetic to be so relieved by those words, because I reallydon’tneed a man to save me. But sometimes it’s nice when one steps in and says, ‘Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it’, and you know that he will. You know absolutely that everything will be fine.

That’s what Sebastian did and, the moment he held my hand, I knew everythingwouldbe fine. That I could stop panicking and relax. And I did.

Except the problem is that now I know how reassuring he can be, I’m not sure I can do without that.

I’m not sure I can do without him.

I shove those thoughts away hard, though, as I take people’s tickets, because I can’t think about it now. After the festival is over we’ll have to have that conversation, but I’m happy not to now. I don’t like making emotional demands. Jasper told me I was selfish when I asked for his support while Mum was dying and again, afterwards, when I was grieving. He wanted me topay more attention to him and, when I didn’t, he’d punish me by ignoring me for days on end.

I know the problem was him, not me, but still, sometimes it’s better not to push.

Anyway, at least the festival is doing well. Ticket sales are great. So many people are coming, in fact, that we’ve had to move Lisa’s talk to the village hall, and it’s filling up nicely.

I should be thrilled. We’ve got more people attending than Sebastian and I ever dreamed of and most of the panels and events are sold out. Yet I feel uncertain and on edge, as if the ground beneath my feet isn’t rock, but swamp, and it keeps shifting with every step. It’s a little too much like London and Jasper, when he used to act as if our relationship was always in some kind of jeopardy and expected me to fix it.

I hate that feeling.

I should be settled and happy in my new life here, but I’m not, and I have a horrible feeling it’s allhisfault.

A couple approach me and I give them a big smile and a ‘Nice to see you, thanks for coming’ as I take their tickets and usher them inside. Then I check the time. It’ll be starting in a couple of minutes.

I take more tickets and the queue disappears, then I quickly put my head into the hall to see how things are going.

It echoes with the buzz of conversation and laughing, and the whole place is packed. Standing room only. The small stage down one end has a rug, a couch and an armchair on it, and Lisa’s already sitting on the couch. Sebastian is sitting in the armchair and chatting to her. He’s theMCfor the evening.

I lean against the doorframe, staring at him, because I can’t help myself.

He’s wearing all black tonight and it suits him, the lights reflecting off his glossy black hair and throwing his perfect bone structure into relief. I was the one who suggested he be theMC,because I want the whole village to see how personable he can be when he chooses, though he took some convincing. He doesn’t like being the centre of attention and thought I’d be a better bet, but I told him that he’s far more calm under pressure than I am, and he is.

He’s great eye candy too.

I let out a slow, silent breath, unable to take my eyes off him.

He’s the reason I’ve been feeling unsettled and weird. Why there’s been an ache in my chest and a longing in my heart for something I can’t name.

No, that’s wrong, Icanname it. I just don’t want to. And I don’t want to because, the moment I do, things will change, and change irrevocably.

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