Page 6 of Healing Hearts
I nearly choke on my wine. “A secret?” I interrupt, trying to keep my tone light.
“Yes! It’s so good,” Kendall says, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “She’s got this double life, and there’s a super-hot guy who starts to unravel her secrets, and it’s all set here in Florida. I even read on some blog that Sophie Quinn lives around here. Can you imagine? A romance author hiding out in Hibiscus Harbor.”
I force a laugh, though my hands are trembling. “That’s...really cool. Maybe she’s just a good observer.”
“Or maybe she’s one of us!” Charlie says, winking as she takes a sip of her margarita. “I bet she’s sitting in a corner of some coffee shop, typing away and watching everyone around her.”
“Oh, definitely,” Kendall agrees. “There’s something about her writing that feels so...authentic. Like she knows the area. It’s one of the reasons why I love her books so much. She captures the local vibe perfectly…not to mention the hot men.” She waves her hand in front of her face like a fan.
I nod and smile, trying to keep my breathing even. Every word feels like a spotlight shining right on me, exposing my secret I’ve managed to keep so carefully hidden for so long. They’re right, though, I do write in coffee shops. I do watch the people around me.
“Have you read any of her books, Brooke?” Charlie asks, turning those curious eyes on me.
I freeze, my mind going blank. “I...uh, no. Not really my thing, you know? I’m more into historical fiction.”
“Oh, you don’t know what you’re missing,” Charlie says with a laugh, waving the book at me again. “I’ll lend it to you. You’ll be hooked, I swear.”
“That’s...okay,” I say, my voice a little too high. “I’m swamped with reading for work right now, but I’ll keep it in mind when I’m ready to go back to reading for enjoyment and not work.”
Charlie gives me a curious look, but Kendall jumps in. “Maybe she’s not into steamy romances, Charlie. Some people just aren’t.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Charlie says, shrugging as she slides the book back into her bag. “But you’re missing out!”
I breathe a silent sigh of relief and reach for another fry, trying to ignore the way my stomach is churning. They talk about other books they’ve read, other authors they love, and I nod along, offering comments when I can, but the whole time,my mind is racing. It just never occurred to me that my friends – people I know – would also be reading my books and want to talk to me about it. I suppose I need to remember that for the next time anyone brings up my books to me. Ugh. With some of the things I’ve written, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to talk to people I know about those parts. It’ll be weird. So weird.
Hours pass in a blur of conversation and laughter. I manage to keep the focus off Sophie Quinn, redirecting them to other favorite authors and our usual catch-up on work gossip. Eventually, Charlie and Kendall decide to call it a night, hugging me goodbye as they head out, still animatedly discussing plot twists as they walk out.
I stay behind, letting out a long breath as I sink back into the booth. My nerves are shot, and my wine glass is empty. “One more,” I murmur, sliding off the bench and moving myself to the bar. I order a burger and another glass of wine, hoping to decompress for a few more minutes before heading home.
Just as I’m about to take the first bite of my burger, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. “Excuse me,” a deep voice says. “I think you’re eating my dinner.”
I look up, startled, into the face of a tall, broad-shouldered man with a teasing smile. His eyes are a warm, dark brown color, and they crinkle at the corners when he grins.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” I stammer, feeling my cheeks go pink. “The bartender said it had been sitting here for a while with no owner, and I was starving, and it looked so good…” I ramble on like an idiot.
He points at the plate in front of me. “I ordered a burger, but it seems to have found its way to you instead.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I repeat as I put the uneaten burger back down on the plate and push it over to him.
He laughs, holding up a hand to stop me. “Hey, don’tworry about it. How about this—we share it? Can’t have you starving to death, now, can we? I’m Trevor, by the way.”
I blink at him, caught off guard. “Share?”
“Yeah,” he says, sliding onto the stool next to me without waiting for an answer.
“I’m Brooke,” I say, feeling a little flustered but smiling back. “And I’d love to share. It’s the least I can do for snatching your food.”
We split the burger and fries, pushing the plate back and forth as we trade bites, laughing over who gets the last of the fries. Trevor orders another round of drinks, and the tension that’s been gnawing at my chest all day begins to fade, replaced by the easy rhythm of conversation.
“So,” Trevor says, leaning forward slightly, his fingers brushing mine as he reaches for the ketchup. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an elementary school librarian.” I tell him proudly.
“What’s it like working at the library? I imagine it’s all quiet reading and shushing people.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, not at all. That’s the biggest misconception people have. It’s actually pretty chaotic, especially when kids are involved. You’d be surprised how loud a group of six-year-olds can get when they’re excited about storytime.”
He grins, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What kind of stories are you reading to them?”
