Page 42 of The Library of Second Chances
Chloe hid under the covers for most of the day, downloading the Kindle app on her phone and rereading some books she had loved when she was a preteen. They were easy to devour now – it had taken her days or even weeks to read them when she was a child, but now she finished some old favourites in an hour or two, fondly revisiting the stories. Thinking about her childhood made her feel worse, though, and eventually she fell asleep in the early afternoon, only waking up in the evening when she heard Gwen clattering around downstairs before leaving the house.
It was late at night when Chloe woke up. She was starving. It was a rainless night, and the moon shone in through her window. She felt gross as she climbed out of bed. She didn’t feel sick any more, but maybe that was because her stomach was empty.
Hoping they had something in the house to eat, Chloe went downstairs, switching on all the lights. She was making herself some toast when she heard Gwen come home.
Her sister cleared her throat and wandered into the living room, setting down her keys.
‘Hi,’ called Chloe, not wanting to scare Gwen.
‘Hey, Chloe,’ Gwen called back. Was it her imagination, or was Gwen slurring?
She found her sister in the living room, rubbing her temples. Even from here, Chloe could smell the alcohol on her. She took a big bite of buttery toast, waiting until her back was to her before wrinkling her nose. So she had been out drinking, maybe on a date. She probably got men to buy her drinks all night.
Typical Gwen.
‘Night,’ Gwen called after her. Chloe pretended not to hear.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHLOE FELT RESTEDby Friday morning and woke up early to take a long shower. The embarrassment with Eric was still there, but she felt much more ready to face it now. And besides, she had to be in top shape for her date with Harry tonight. There was no way she was going to miss it.
Not a date, she reminded herself.
It was a quiet day at the library, and after finishing her usual tasks, Chloe decided to check if anybody had borrowed a book yesterday during her sick day. It turned out a few had, as well as people bringing books back. The girl who said she’d seen the romance recommended on TikTok had returned the book she’d taken out. Chloe hoped she’d liked it.
The shift at the library passed quickly, and when she got home, Chloe locked herself in her room to get ready, thoroughly glad she had not confronted Harry about Eric’s notes. He had asked her to meet him at the Italian restaurant later. She was determined to look good this time. It had nothing to do with him meeting her much more attractive sister. None at all.
She felt like a child doing something mischievous when she stuck her head out of the bedroom door, listening out for music or the buzz of theTV. If Gwen saw her all dressed up, she would ask too many questions, and Chloe wasn’t ready to talk about Harry yet. When she heard the shower running, Chloe stepped into the hallway and hurried out of the house.
Glad for her warm coat, Chloe walked into Wellbridge and to the restaurant address Harry had texted her. He was already there, waiting for her outside, his broad back to heras he examined the delicate cursive writing on the restaurant’s windows. He was wearing his trench coat, lights from the restaurant’s interior making his hair shine gold.
‘Hi,’ she said, walking over to him. ‘Have you been waiting long?’
‘Only a couple of minutes.’ He held a small bag in his hand. He held it out to her. ‘Are you okay? The librarian said you were ill and didn’t go to work yesterday.’
She was touched. ‘Much better, thanks.’ Inside the bag was a small box of chocolates, coffee flavoured. ‘Oh, Harry. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said gruffly. ‘There’s no nuts in them, I checked. There isn’t really anywhere inside to put flowers,’ he added, looking a bit shy as he put his hands into his pockets.
‘I prefer chocolates anyway,’ said Chloe happily. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t really like flowers.’
‘Me neither,’ admitted Harry. ‘They remind me—’
‘Of funerals,’ they said at the same time. They exchanged sad smiles.
He doesn’t like flowers.She wondered again why he was studying the symbolism of flowers, but it wasn’t her place to ask.
‘Well, let’s get inside. It’s cold.’ Harry opened the door for Chloe. The interior was deliciously warm and carrying the scent of tomatoes and basil.
They eased into conversation, thanking a staff member when they brought a bottle of wine. ‘I’ve been to the Brew House about six times since you recommended it,’ Harry said. ‘Their baking is terrific. Pretty sure I’ve already put on a couple of pounds.’ He patted his stomach, which Chloe thought looked fine. ‘Worth it, though. I can’t bake, myself. Can you? I imagine it’s easier, with your nut allergy.’
‘I don’t really bake. My sister makes good cinnamon rolls, though.’
She winced inwardly, not wanting the conversation to be steered towards Gwen. Too late now.
‘I couldn’t help noticing a certain . . . tension between you two,’ said Harry carefully. He poured red wine into Chloe’s glass. ‘It’s none of my business, but . . .’
Chloe fiddled with a corner of the white tablecloth. She suddenly wanted to tell him, to share it with him. After all, he’d told her about his wife. ‘Things have been bad between us for a long time,’ she said. ‘I was actually supposed to get married here in Wellbridge. Forever ago.’
