Page 110 of One Small Spark
“I think it’s real.” I tread carefully across conversational ground littered with traps and pitfalls. “But fake versions are so common, it’s hard to tell the difference. And nobody wants to get stuck with a cheap imitation.”
That lands about as well as a rude gesture in the middle of a church service. The ladies stare at me like I just offered to pop off my head. I don’t look Shepherd’s direction. I’m not sure I want to know what he’s thinking.
“You must have related well to our heroine,” Rosetta finally says. “After so many bad relationships, she didn’t recognize the real thing when it came calling.”
“I didn’t like her.” Barb picks at the last of the pie on her plate. “She was rude and indifferent to the hero for too long. He should have cut her loose when he had the chance.”
Rosetta laughs. “Thankfully, that’s not how it played out in the book.”
“It’s how it played out in my head. He found someone sweeter, who won’t take his love for granted.”
That tingly, flying-out-of-the-rollercoaster sensation coalesces deep in my stomach like the first indications I’m about tolose my lunch.
“Isn’t it interesting how we’ll accept any number of rude or indifferent behaviors from the male love interest, but when it’s the woman, she has to be sweet and likable all the time?” Rosetta glances around at each of us, spearing us with one raised eyebrow. “I don’t know about you all, but I am not as saccharine as we expect a romance book heroine to be.”
The group erupts over this, half in agreement, half defending the concept of a “likable heroine.” I barely listen. I stare at the book of national parks on Ada’s coffee table, having a wee little crisis.
“He found someone sweeter.”Thank you for so succinctly describing my new nightmare, Barb.
Shepherd doesn’t add to the noise. I side-eye him, but he’s just staring back at me. Possibly contemplating how much he really wants an unlikable heroine of his own.
“Now, ladies.” Ada raises her hands, bringing the commotion to a halt. “Maybe we should call it a day. I like my furniture, and I’m afraid some of you might start throwing things.”
Embarrassed chuckles move around the room. Ada gives us our options for next month’s book group: a romcom pitting coworkers against each other for the same promotion, and a contemporary romance set in a small town that’s infused with a touch of magic. We settle on the magical romance and pick up our things to head out.
I help Ada divide and box up the leftovers. It’s no accident she doles out the largest share to Shepherd. These ladies are determined to take care of him like one of their own. It’s sweet.
Ugh. I can’t escape the word.
Rosetta pulls Shepherd off to the side, talking quietly in the living room. I edge around the kitchen island, getting closer without being too conspicuous about it. Because yes, I am a terrible snoop. I want to hear more about how wonderful he iswith the kids in the volunteer program. It sounds freaking adorable.
“Lucy’s a gem,” Rosetta’s saying. “She’s thoughtful and friendly, and just the sweetest thing. I think it’d be the right fit for what you’re looking for.”
My stomach revolts against everything I ate at brunch—is she trying to set Shepherd up with someone? Did she already give up on smashing us together through book group and found another woman for him? I might have played my indifference this morning too well.
“Thank you, Rosetta,” Shepherd says. “That sounds perfect.”
I might have played my indifference too well for longer than just today.
Perfect. He told meIwas perfect. My mushy heart that’s been steadily growing to fill my whole body deflates down to the sad, sorry cherry pit it was before. Nobody wants to find a pit in theirsweetcherry pie.
When he said all those soft, romantic things to me the other day, I didn’t say them back. I barely said anything at all. My throat closed up, and I couldn’t scrape the words out. How long will he be content with sharing his heart if I don’t share mine back?
Not very long, I guess.
“What kind of magic do you think this new book has in it?” Nora asks me. “I don’t want to read anything with devils in it.”
“It’s got flowers all over the cover,” I point out. “I doubt anything that cute and whimsical has dark magic in it.”
“You can’t judge a book by its cover,” Barb says like she invented the adage.
Nope. Like if you were to look at me right now, you’d never know my insides are torn up like a hurricane ripped through my ribcage, smashing my teeny, tiny heart.
Shepherd moves forward to grab his stash of leftovers, his shoulder brushing along my back as he does. I suck in a breath as if the gentle touch seared my skin. He focuses on me, that stern little line dipping between his eyebrows.
“Okay there, Krause?”
I flash the biggest smile. “Yup!”
