Page 63 of By the Book

It’s a strange feeling, flipping the sign in my window to “open” once again. I watch the crisp leaves dance in the wind, the trees looking barer than the last time I turned it over. It’s been a matter of weeks, yet somehow feels infinitely longer than that.

Despite everyone’s suggestions, I requested no re-opening celebration. No fanfare. I told them all to go to their own work, carry on as they would. Because that is what I need, to carry on myself.

They had all agreed, reluctantly. Stevie with her flowers, Wren at the inn. Poppy returned to battle over her dream, I’m assuming with Hayden somewhere nearby doing the same. Wes has been mysteriously absent as of late, but I try not to let that worry nag at me. Dad is at the firm while Mom is at a charity committee meeting.

And Tripp, he had been the hardest to convince. Which if I’m being honest is something I had hoped for. After peeling myself away from him at the sheriff’s department yesterday, he had agreed to wait until the end of the day to come by.Best I can offer, he’d said.

Which means here I stand, alone in my shop once again. Here, where I have the ability to spend my morning in a magicalland amongst faerie, switching to the old west by lunch, and ending the afternoon down the rabbit hole. I get to live out an adventure with each book I’ve put on these shelves. And as much as I truly do trust Tripp to keep me safe, this bit of real-life adventure has grown tiring. Maybe bravery is being able to decide what is right for yourself, after all.

The front door opens and in walks a woman, hand in hand with a school aged girl. It’s the best feeling, seeing the small girl’s eyes widen as she takes in the details of the bookstore. I approach them, ready to help her find her own adventure.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings, Sherlock.”

Tripp stands before me, a charcoal gray sweater fitted to his muscled torso in a way that makes me want to drool right here at my desk. I hadn’t heard him come in, engrossed in unboxing the new release that was delivered today. And by unboxing, I mean pulling the top book off the stack and immediately sitting down to read it.

Without taking my eyes off him, I slide the packing slip across the open page to mark my spot and close the book. He moves around my desk and holds out a hand. “How was opening day?” he asks, his deep voice filled with warmth.

“It felt good being back here, helping people find a story they could get excited about.” I place my hand in his and allow him to pull me up into his embrace.

“You have such a gift for that, Ivy,” he says, trailing his hand down my back. “It’s amazing how fast you can connect with people and see what they need.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“I do. I’ve seen it, time and time again. Even before you had this shop. Do you remember when Wes and I visited you in college and you made us late for dinner reservations because you were busy chatting up the parking lot attendant about a book series?”

“She was reading one of my all-time favorites, I couldn’t resist,” I smile.

“Exactly, it’s who you are.” He kisses me tenderly before turning to take my coat from the nearby hook and holding it out to me. “And we are going to celebrate that tonight.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to celebrate,” I protest. “It doesn’t feel right, considering why I had to close temporarily.”

“And if we didn’t put the labelcelebrationon it. What would you want to do for a special date night?”

I press my lips together, there are a number of things I would like to do with Tripp. But they all involve time alone, not celebrating out. And not just dirty things. For years, I imagined what family movie nights would be like if I could curl up beside him instead of sitting on opposite ends of the couch with my brother between us. I dreamt of conversations where my impatient brother didn’t point out how Tripp was over at the house for him, not me.

Simply wanting to give each other uninterrupted attention, I tell him decidedly, “I want to get Chinese takeout and watch a movie.”

“Chinese and a Nora Ephron night?”

“You know Nora Ephron?” I gape.

He lets out a gruff laugh, tugging the upturned collar of my wool coat until it sits flat on my shoulders. “Yes, because whenever you didn’t feel good, you managed to swindle your brother into handing over the remote. Then you’d have that happy little smile of yours, boasting about it being a NoraEphron night. And I don’t fully know what that means, but I think we should have one.”

I’m rendered speechless by the seemingly insignificant details he’s recalling about me tonight. From a random chat with a parking attendant to days I felt ill, he makes it sound like they weren’t insignificant at all. When I don’t respond, he reaches over and loops his pinky together with mine. “Ready?” There’s a lazy smile on his face as he leads me outside.

We travel to his place, stopping long enough to grab compact white cartons of lo mein, shrimp fried rice, and sweet and sour chicken before reaching the shore. Heading inside, he wastes no time dropping the food on the coffee table and moving to the fireplace. I follow him through the living room, settling onto the couch. Despite this only being the second time we’ve been alone here, it feels familiar, cozy. Just like Tripp.

Tucking my legs up beneath me, I turn to find him watching me from his spot before the fireplace. “What are you thinking about?” he asks me curiously.

“Just how much this place feels like you, and I love that. I heard you did some renovating?”

He moves to stack logs in the fireplace, his voice echoing against the worn brick when he replies, “I just added on a bit. Turned my old room into a full suite and really gave myself some space. Then I painted and honestly, that’s about it. I didn’t want to wipe out my grandfather’s memory.”

Striking a fireplace match, Tripp lights the wood and motions for me to join him on the leather sofa. I sink down against him, noticing a twinkle in his eye. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just that it is really nice having you here.” He squeezes my knee when he sits forward, reaching for the remote. “Alright, which Nora Ephron movie?”

“When Harry Met Sally, definitely the perfect one for a Meg Ryan fall.”

---