Page 143 of Things I Read About
“Skye.”
I make a face.
Shep really gets on her nerves, so he’s not going to help me out. He laughs as he leans back. “Exactly. It’s on this side, go up to the door and follow the instructions. That’s all I can say.”
It’s a house. It’s my little house! I called about renting it a few days after I left the hospital, but it was already gone. My door opens and Shep waves me out with his hand. I cross around the car, up to the little porch. On the wall I see a hand-written sign.
Show that beautiful smile to the security cameras! Plural!
I do smile. There’s another note on the door.
Door code is the name of your absolute favorite person in the whole world, who still loves you.
Hint: N * * *
My smile grows, along with my curiosity. And my nervousness. Anticipation, too. Is Nate inside?
I press the numbers for his name on the electric lock, 6283. The mechanism clicks and the light at the top turns green. I push in.
“Nate?”
What!
I freeze, staring. The entire ceiling that I can see is sheet music. Just like my old room. And it’s all my favorite pieces, plus some rock songs? The rock songs I played for Nate.
I keep staring as I walk slowly, meander, really, through the little entry hallway. Which has a table in it? There’s furniture?
“Nate?” I call out, again, but my throat closes up when I reach the end of the hall.
The space opens up to the small kitchen and dining space on the right, complete with a table and chairs and burning candles. There’s coffee brewing and a few bars of chocolate on display on a little platter.
But…
But the living area on the left.
There’s a grand piano, just like I wanted. And by the fireplace, facing the piano, is a loveseat and ottoman. And shelves. He put in wall-to-wall shelves along the fireplace wall and the back wall behind the loveseat.
I bound over, physically drawn to the books.
I let out a laugh that’s also a sob.
They’re all mafia romances. And there’s every single one of Lorelai's books, in every edition. Hard cover, soft cover, illustrated custom orders. I see one book sitting out, open.
Sally dearest,
Why didn’t you tell me (or Sadie) you were *this big* of a fan? Nate sent this massive book order in, and I was happy to sign every single one. I hope to see you over the holidays at that new sprawling monstrosity of an itchy, smelly, bug-infested hell Sadie calls home.
All meine liebe,
Lorelai (Lori) Kent
I squeal. I’ve met her, I know her. I get to call her by her real name, not her pen name. But seeing her signature in a hardback withall my love—penned in German!—it’s still a thrill. And Nate reached out to her. For me!
I let out another giggle. There are noStories of Loya, no Sadie Canton-Riggs titles, not one RomCom. Just multiple copies of every single mafia romance I’ve ever read… as if he went through my purchase history.
He did, he must have.
Ding!
