Page 69 of Bookworm
“Who says I’m not?”
“Professor O’Macklin told me you were possibly going to Brown next,” she said, a smug look on her face.
“I don’t knowwhatI’m doing next,” I answered honestly.
“But you are considering going to Brown, right? Or somewhere else?Andyou still have an apartment and family in London? Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch. But you can’t stand there and tell me to be honest with Adam whenyouaren’t.”
I glared at Jasmine. For someone not trying to be a bitch, she sure was succeeding. “I literally just got the contact info for Brown from O’Macklin minutes ago and I was on my way to see Adam right now to tell him,” I said, glaring at her. “And he knows I’m still figuring out what my next steps are.”
Sorrow filled Jasmine's eyes. “Well, for Adam’s sake, could you figure that out sooner rather than later? He’s waiting for you. He’s been waiting for you for seven years. And he won’t let himself move on without closure from you. But he could be really,reallyhappy with me. If only he'd let himself.”
She didn't wait for my reply this time. she simply turned around and walked away, leaving me with nothing but her parting words, and the sharp click of her stiletto heels against the marble floors.
Chapter Twenty-One
He’s waiting for you. He’s been waiting for you for seven years.
Jasmine’s words stuck in my brain like freshly chewed gum on the bottom of my shoe.
So much so that it paralyzed me.
I hadn’t told Adam about my conversation with Jasmine.
I hadn’t told him about Dr. O’Macklin’s referral.
I barely managed to show him the finished product ofPride and Prejudice… and even that was only because he came out of his office and caught me standing there in a daze, holding my copy of the book.
Now, it was Saturday morning, several days later and we wandered a flea market together. I was supposed to be looking for valuable, rare books to work on and add to my business. But I couldn’t focus.
I found myself flipping through the boxes of books at some guy’s table, barely registering what I was looking at.
“Hey,” Adam said, nudging me gently with his shoulder. “What about this one?” He held up a worn hardcover copy ofThe Hobbit.
I barely glanced at it. “Do you know how rare first editions ofThe Hobbitare?”
There was no way in frozen hell that copy he found at a flea market in New Hampshire was a first edition ofThe Hobbit.
Adam cleared his throat and slid a glance at the man running the table, who was currently busy chatting and laughing with the woman running the jewelry table beside him.
“I know,” Adam whispered. “But look. It’s the 1977 Harry Abrams deluxe illustrated edition. In rough shape, but still. I’ve seen this sell for a couple hundred on eBay.”
I leaned over and took the book from his hands.
Hot damn. He was right.
Not quite the same level of payout asPride and Prejudice, but not everything could be that big of a gold mine. And for the $1 cover price, it was a good deal. And the rough shape? Was nothing that a couple hours alone couldn’t fix.
I tucked the book under my arm and leaned over to look deeper into Adam’s box. “Good job,” I whispered. “Anything else in this treasure trove?”
“Lots of mid-century books,” Adam said, picking up a few Stephen King books.
Two of which were nothing special… but the 1974 hardcover copy ofCarriewith the dustjacket still intact could easily sell for $100. It wasn’t necessarily going to make me a millionaire, but it could keep the lights on a little longer.
Or keep me here in New Hampshire a little longer.
“Yes,” I hissed, dragging the sound of the ‘s’ out.
Pushing onto my toes, I kissed Adam’s cheek, then gently pushed him aside to dig further into the box.
