Page 4 of Bookworm
A tear slid a path down my cheek and I dropped to sit on the top landing of the staircase.
Well, I’d show him.
I’d show Adam Stone and Elijah Stone just what a catch I could be.
He’ll regret ever letting me go.
Chapter One
7years later…
There’s a reason why I don’t drink more than two glasses of wine anymore at any given time.
I sat in the living room of my small flat, staring at the paper shopping bag that sat on my coffee table and trying to calm my racing heart.
I didn’t buy what I thought I bought, did I? I couldn’t have.
I wasn’tthatdrunk last night, was I?
Okay, yes, I was that drunk. But I wasn’t that stupid, was I?
Taking a deep breath, I reached into the paper bag with the stampOlsen’s Books and Antiquitiesinked on the front and pulled out the hardbound, gorgeous green book with gold peacock feathers embossed on the front.
Oh no.
It turned out, Iwasthat drunk and stupid.
With a chirp, my tuxedo cat, Jules hopped up on the coffee table and brushed her head against my knuckles, trying to get some scritches out of me.
I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, gasp, or dance around my living room.
The book in my hands was a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice.
But not just any first edition. Nope, that would be too simple…. And I, Addy Meyer, was known for being extra.
This was the 1894 first Peacock edition signed by the legendary illustrator, Hugh Thomson… from his own private collection.
I’d been staring at this book, drooling over it, for more than a year since it entered the doors of Olsen’s Books and Antiquities. But the $8,000 price tag made it so that it was never more than a pipe dream.
With trembling hands, I placed the book back into the archival bag it came in, then dropped my forehead onto the coffee table, just as my ringtone pierced the quiet patter of London’s drizzle against my window panes.
I didn’t even look at the screen, forehead still on my coffee table as I lifted the phone and pressed it to my ear. “H’llo,” I mumbled.
“Let me in,” Daphne said, her thick Manchester accent still as charming as it was the first day I met her. “I’m downstairs and I’ve got the biggest Americano they serve around the corner.
Which meant it was basically 10 oz. Europeans didn’t serve the massive sized drinks we did in America. Even still, beggars can’t be choosers. And since I’d apparently just spent the last of my savings on a freakingbook,well,it wasn’t like I could afford my own damn cup of coffee today.
Practically near tears, I peeled myself off of the pine coffee table and made my way down the narrow staircase to let Daphne in.
Brown eyes wide and excited, she shoved the coffee into my hands and brushed past me, sweeping up the stairs. “I can’t believe you did it! You actually did it, Harp! Can I see it? Can I touch it?”
I gaped at her, fury and panic swelling in my lungs. “Youknewthat I was going to buy that stupid book and didn’t stop me?”
“Stop you!?” Daphne paused and swung around on the top landing of the stairs to face me. “Luv, I helped you haggle that price down! Nothing a little liquid courage and Daphne couldn’t handle.”
She puffed her chest proudly and walked into my apartment, giving my Jules a quick pat to her head.
Last night’s events were foggy, at best. While two glasses of wine is supposed to be my cut off, Daphne was moving to Italy tomorrow for a two-year residency at the Biblioteca Angelica. We’d celebrated her achievement last night…hard.
