Page 127 of Out of Bounds

“I did, but my mom took her for me. She wanted a single-color process and a tight curl—not really my cup of tea. And I wanted to come to your book club. You know, for moral support.”

“Aww, babe. Thanks.” I smash her in a quick hug. “But did you read the book?”

“What? Y’all actually read the book? I thought most book clubs sit around and talk and drink wine?”

I chuckle. “Not this one. For starters, no beverages allowed in the library. And these ladies always read the book. But it’s okay. Tonight we’re talking aboutPride & Prejudice.We read that back in high school. I’m sure it’ll come back to you.”

“Girl. You’re cute. You think I actually read that book, ever? Um, no. I read someone’s notes and copied an essay some upperclassman gave me. But it’s cool. I’m great at winging it.”

Holding my eye roll in check—because she is here to support me—I link arms with her and together we head to the conference room. Ms. Mabel and Meg Langley are already here, and a few more people stroll in as the clock ticks closer to five p.m.

“Okay, I think we can get started. We have a good crowd tonight.” I glance around the circle, noting a new face or two. Word must be spreading about this fun group of readers. Tonight we have eight people, not counting me or Gracelyn.

“First of all, thanks for coming. I picked this month’sbook because I love Jane Austen. Any other Jane Austen fans here?”

Several hands shoot up and my lit-loving little heart is full.

“Super. Let’s go around the circle and everyone can share their favorite part.”

Gracelyn shoots me an SOS stare, and I add, “If you want.”

Her shoulders sag with relief as Ms. Mabel takes the floor, launching into a long response about the first ball scene. A few others chime in and the conversation gets going. Gracelyn toys with her stack of silver bangles, but everyone else participates enthusiastically.

After a while, the conversation dies down, so I ask another question. “Why do you think Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett had such a hard time resolving their issues? Do you think one of them was more in the wrong than the other?”

Meg answers first. “I think they both had a hand in the problem. Elizabeth was stubborn and prideful and Mr. Darcy couldn’t get past his biases.”

“Isn’t that just like a man—” Ms. Mabel mutters and Gracelyn giggles.

“Right?” Grace gives Ms. Mabel an approving look.

“I don’t know. I feel like Elizabeth wasn’t as much in the wrong as Mr. Darcy,” I point out. “He had more power than her and was in a better position. He kept secrets from her as well.”

Gracelyn kicks my foot, but I keep talking, ignoring her. “I understand why she was upset with him for most of the novel.”

She kicks my foot again, this time so hard I almost fall out of the plastic chair.

“What Grace?” I whisper, spinning to face her.

And there’s Cam, standing in the door of the conference room, one hand shoved in his pocket. Face burning, my eyes slide up and meet his marine gaze. He has matching rings circling his eyes and hasn’t shaved in a few days, dark stubble peppering his jaw.

Everyone stops talking as they all stare at Cam, then at me, then back at Cam. Gracelyn clears her throat and the sound bounces off the light green walls.

“Quick bathroom break?” she suggests, but I shake my head.

“No. I’m good. Anyone else?” I glance around the circle, but no one moves to stand. “Okay, then.” I clear my throat, shifting in my chair. “Let’s continue.”

Sitting up tall, I try my hardest to ignore Cam. Maybe he’ll take the hint and go away.

“Like I was saying—Mr. Darcy kept secrets,” I emphasize this last part, to hammer home the point, “and that’s not a good foundation for a relationship. So I get why Elizabeth was upset.”

“Maybe Darcy had good reasons for keeping secrets.” Cam’s deep voice carries from across the room.

“Perhaps. But Darcy should have let Elizabeth make that choice.” I stare directly at Cam, chin lifted and jaw tense.

“I’m sure he feels badly about it. In the end.”

An ache spreads through my chest, radiating out into my arms, my skin prickling.

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