Page 82 of Love is an Open Book
“We promised not to make things complicated. To do that I need some separation between work and...”
“Us?” He nods once. “Got it.”
He doesn’t get it, though. He thinks it’s him I’m mad at, but it’s myself, for breaking my rule. For letting myself start to fall for him, knowing it could ruin everything. But I let him walk away, watching him thread his way through the crowd until he’s gone and I’m left wondering if this is how I lose him.
Evie ends up helping me close down the booth, and I go back to my empty hotel suite and tell myself writing a new chapter is a better use of my time than worrying over what’s happening with me and Gavin, even though nothing feels like the right choice. I finally crawl into bed in time to get a few hours of sleep and make it through a morning of signing before exhaustion and emotional overwhelm catches up with me and I call Kim. She shows up forty minutes later, armed with a whipped-cream-bedecked latte and dressed in a shirt with a photo of stern Mr. Darcy.
“My hero,” I tell both her and the shirt, and take a hefty gulp of the caffeinated sugar. “Thank you for rescuing me from my poor life choices.”
Obviously pleased at this show of humble sisterly gratitude, she says, “This is a walk in the park compared to yesterday.Dealing with anxious freshman parents out in the summer heat? We are not hosting a picnic next year. The gym might be old but at least it has A/C.”
She’s already organizing the books and pens I’ve jumbled in my attempts to keep up. “You’ve got an hour until your next panel. Go find some food.”
“I’ll eat afterward.”
“Your eyes are glazed. You need to step away for a second.” She stops what she’s doing to give me a hug. “Don’t think I’ll let you off without the full details of why I’m filling in for the man you adopted kittens with.”
“We’re not keeping them.”
The look she gives tells me that’s not the point. “Go eat, I’ve got this covered.”
When I come back with a falafel pita and a jumbo order of fries, she’s flipping through one of my older books. “I don’t know how you do it. Writing my thesis just about killed me.”
“Says the woman in charge of two thousand adolescents.”
“Not yet.” She blows out a breath. “But I’ve got to admit, I’m nervous.”
“You’re going to be the best assistant principal that high school has ever seen.” I hold out the fries and she takes one. “I’d be scared to step out of line with you in charge.”
She takes another fry, then steals my napkin. “You’ve always been scared to step out of line,” she says. “Which is why I still can’t believe you hatched this wild scheme with Gavin.” She grabs for another fry but I hold them out of reach. No way she’s getting more fries after that rundown. “Are you two done pretending you need tropes in order to get cozy?”
My lips twist at the aptness of her words. “The tropes were a way for me to get out of my head, not get with Gavin.”
“I almost believe you,” she says. “But the delivery could use a little work.”
“I’m not going to discuss this when we’re about to be swarmed by readers.”
“How about I guess, and you tell me if I’m right?” Without waiting for my reply, she says, “You decided to act out only-one-bed, except no one slept on the floor.”
I merely blink.
“A nod or shake of the head will suffice.”
“Not when you’re being nosy.”
She snags a fry while my guard is down. “You decided to do it once, just to get it out of your systems, but fell madly in love.”
“Why do all of these tropes involve sex? Do you really think we’d need games to get into bed with each other?” Not the right answer, though by the way her eyes simultaneously light up and narrow, in a villainous glow, I realize it’s exactly the tell she was hoping for.
She grabs my wrist, tugging me into the corner of the booth, as if that will put us in a bubble of silence, even though I can see the next stall over through the gap in the fabric. “Are you and Gavin hooking up?”
I balk at hearing her describe it that way. “It’s not like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a random fling.” I knew this interrogation was coming and planned to downplay everything. Chalk it up to proximity and stress. But it’s not. It’s real and deep and already I’m worrying about how it will end.
Her arms are around me in a flash. “Oh, Mia, I know. I just got excited because you two are perfect for each other and I’ve been waiting, keeping my mouth shut for—”
