Page 22 of Heart Strings

“Good morning, Gracie,” she greets me with her warm smile, oblivious to the storm inside me.

“Morning, Mrs. Peterson,” I reply, managing a smile. “Looking for anything particular today?”

“Just a little adventure on the high seas, if you have anything new,” she chuckles, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

I lead her to the new arrivals section, pointing out a couple of titles. “These just came in last week. Should be just what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you, dear. How have you been? Haven’t seen you around the knitting group lately.”

I hesitate, then shrug lightly. “Oh, you know, just busy with the store.”

She nods, understanding, but then leans in closer. “And how’s that young man, Connor, was it? He helped you out here last Christmas, right? Such a help he was!”

My heart skips a beat. “Connor’s good, Mrs. Peterson. We’re... He’s good.”

She smiles knowingly, pats my hand, and moves off to browse the books I suggested. I watch her for a moment, envious of her simple acceptance of life’s ebbs and flows.

The bell above the door chimes, and I automatically brighten up, the perky shop owner persona slipping on like a comfortable shoe. “Morning! Welcome to Chapter One!” I call out without looking up.

“Morning, Gracie. Not interrupting anything, am I?” The voice isn’t the usual customer. It’s Sophie.

I turn around, my heart doing a small leap before settling. It’s just Sophie, but part of me hoped—no, expected—it might be Connor. “Hey, Soph. Just the usual morning cleanup. What brings you here?”

Sophie walks in, her eyes scanning the shelves before settling back on me. “I figured you might want some company, what with the Connor-silence and all.” She eyes me knowingly.

I sigh, giving in to the comfort of having someone to talk to about it all. “It’s driving me crazy, Soph. I asked for space, and he’s giving it, but now all I want to do is talk to him.”

Sophie chuckles, pulling up a chair at the small reading nook I’ve set up near the window. “That’s how it usually goes, huh? Want what we can’t have?”

“Something like that,” I mutter, joining her. “I just... I don’t know what to do. I miss him, Soph. It feels like by asking for space, I’ve made a huge mistake.”

“You miss him, or you miss the idea of him?” Sophie probes gently, her head tilted in that way that shows she’s digging for deeper answers. “You know, the guy who always comes back into town for you? The big rockstar?”

I consider her question, rolling it around in my mind. “I miss him. The actual him. His laugh, his stupid jokes, the way he makes me feel like the most important person in the room. I just don’t know if he misses me, or if he’s just respecting my wishes.”

Sophie reaches over, squeezing my hand. “He misses you. Trust me. Connor’s not the type to forget about someone he cares about, especially not you.”

“But what if this break makes him realize he’s better off without me?” I voice the fear that’s been gnawing at me since I walked away.

Sophie shakes her head. “Gracie, if anything, this space is probably making him realize just how much he values you. Sometimes, we need to step back to see what we really want.”

I nod, absorbing her words. “I hope you’re right.”

We sit in silence for a moment, the soft sounds of the bookstore settling around us. “So, what are you going to do?” Sophie finally asks.

“I... I think I should talk to him. Today.” The words feel right as I say them, like I’ve finally decided on the direction of my own story in this bookstore of countless tales.

“Want me to come with you?” Sophie offers, always ready to dive into the fray beside me.

I smile, grateful. “No, I need to do this alone. But thank you, Soph.”

“Anytime, Gracie.” Sophie stands, stretching. “Now, I’ll get out of your hair. But call me after, okay? I need the full story.”

“I will,” I promise, walking her to the door.

After she leaves, the bookstore feels even quieter than usual, my decision resonating through the empty space. I spend the rest of the morning tidying up with a little more purpose, preparing mentally for the conversation ahead.

When the clock strikes noon, I flip the ‘Closed’ sign on the door earlier than usual, my fingers trembling slightly as I finally allow myself to pull out my phone. I stare at it for a long moment, my heart pounding as I type out a message to Connor.

---