Page 75 of A Novel Love Story

He sat back on the bench, rolling the taffy around in his mouth. “I already do it,” he said. “Well, Ididit. I had my dream job. I reviewed novels for theNew York Times. Mostly thrillers and suspense, but sometimes I’d get lucky enough to review a romance. And there was nothing better.” He frowned then, and for the first time in a few hours, a quiet coldness settled over his face again, though I knew him better now. It wasn’t coldness. It was sadness. “But I haven’t really enjoyed any books since … well, it just doesn’t feel the same.” He shook his head. “Time changes you. Stories change you. The people you meet change you. I’m simply not the same man that I was before.”

Before—before he and his ex split? Who was she, and how was she so lovely, to make a ruin of him? Why did she leave? I couldn’t imagine not being able to fall into the stories that kept me company in those long days after Liam left.I burrowed into them. I protected myself. To not have that …

“So all the books I’ve seen you with … you’re not enjoying them?”

“I’m trying,” he replied. “And, to be honest, I thought that maybe being around you would help because you justexudehappiness. You don’t notice it, but you’re always smiling when you’re in this town. When you’re talking to Junie or Ruby or Maya, or walking down the street, or eating honey taffy—you’re just …happy. I want to feel that again, too. So, so badly.”

I reached over and threaded my fingers through his, and squeezed his hands tightly. “If I could give it to you, I would.”

“It would taste sweet, I’m sure,” he said, dropping his eyes to my mouth. “Like you.”

My stomach burned. I wanted him to kiss me again, sitting on this park bench, on such a lovely summer night. The fireflies danced around us, the wind winding through the trees, and when he set his eyes on me, I felt like the only story he wanted to read.

And that was dangerous, because he was fictional and Rachel had written someone for him. Someone good.

And it wasn’t me.

So I leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek instead. A compromise. “I had a lovely time tonight, Anders. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, Elsy,” he replied, and seemed almost disappointed when I unfurled my legs from over his and pushed myself to stand. I outstretched my hand for him to take it so we could head back together, but he said, “I think I’m going to take a walk, instead. The bookstore is unlocked. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“This time without a hangover,” I promised, and started back toward the bookstore.I shouldn’t have looked over my shoulder to see where he went, but I couldn’t help myself.

I glanced back.

He had already left the bench, heading down the sidewalk toward the Daffodil Inn, and the graveyard of deleted things.

And unlike in a romance novel, he didn’t look back at me.

A walk in that strange graveyard was odd at this time of night. Was he meeting someone? I had half a mind to just go back to the bookstore and go to sleep, because the starlings would wake me up at the most god-awful hour in the morning, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I snuck after him to the inn, where he hopped the fence into the garden, and disappeared through the pergola.

The kitchen lights were still on at the inn, and quiet music oozed through the open windows. I glanced inside as I passed through the garden. Junie and Will were slow dancing, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her waist, rocking back and forth to the slow, soft melody. And immediately, I felt like I’d just witnessed a private moment that wasn’t mine to see.

I hurried after Anders, being sure to keep to the shadows, to not step on any sticks, to not get caught in the prickly rosebushes on either side of the pergola. When I got to the iron gate, I hid behind it. He sat down on the edge of the fountain and pulled out his cell phone, and called someone.

“Sorry it’s so late,” he said, and whoever it was caused a smile to curl across his mouth, for his eyes to crinkle. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind …”

Who was he talking to that made him smile like that? Who would he call near midnight?

He chatted on the phone, but his voice was so low I could barely hear anything at all. I leaned against the iron gate, straining my ear—

My phone suddenly vibrated with a text message and gave a loudblip.

He snapped his head toward the noise, but I was already scrambling down the alley again, and through the pergola. I didn’t stop running until I got to Main Street, where I bent over to catch my breath.

“The hell?” I muttered, taking my phone out of my back pocket.

There was a new text message, even though I had no service. It was from Pru, saying in all caps—

HE PROPOSED!!

I quickly grappled to reply—CONGRATS!!!

But as soon as I sent it, it came back.Message Unsent.Damn it, how had I gotten signal at all? Unless it was the courtyard where Anders took his call? But I didn’t understand why that would matter. Anders could get his fictional cell service anywhere.

I chalked it up to a fluke and returned to the loft, but I didn’t fall asleep until Anders came back half an hour later.

23

---