Page 22 of The First Love Myth

“For real, girl. Some companies are more persistent than herpes.” She steps into my office and shuts the door.Crap. “Anyway, I wanted to check in... I saw your new address come through.”

I expected this to happen, but I’m still not ready for it. The fact that we moved from our house in the suburbs to a popular Princeton complex is a red flag that something’s wrong. Whether it’s Julian losing his job or me moving out. But I felt uncomfortable leaving my old address as my primary address at work. He’s still my emergency contact, so I hope that will squelch any rumor mill gossip. Watching Angie watch me now, though, I can’t help but wonder what it’ll look like if I change my address back in six months? Or what it’ll mean if I don’t have to.

“Everything’s fine.” I don’t put that false brightness into my answer that requires energy I don’t have right now. “Julian and I are...” Tears prick behind my eyes, and my chest constricts. Who would’ve guessed that this would be the hardest part—tellingpeople, admitting defeat. It’s awful. “Taking a moment,” I say finally.

My life feels like a soap opera—the prime-time ones, not the daytime ones, at least. I can see the marketing campaign.Will Julian and Liz find their way back to each other? History says yes, but this time Liz might say no.Where are the #Lilian shippers when you need them? Back in West Dover, believing the fairy tale. But true love’s kiss isn’t going to fix this one.

“I’m sorry, Angie,” I say to her awkward silence. “I think I’m going to get some air.”

Barnes & Noble is quiet this early in the day. The lunch-break browsers are still enjoying their ten o’clock coffees, and the stay-at-home parents already have their kids at music or ballet or pre-K readiness. I let the scents of paper and ink and wood wash over me. It’s soothing for my frazzled soul. It always has been.

As graduate students, Julian and I lived around the corner from a bookstore. It was a small indie and perfect. In the weeks after Julian left me, the crowded aisles became my refuge. It was the one place in all of Philadelphia that calmed me. Jane would find me there and drag me home, forcing meal after meal upon me. The owner would thrust bottles of water at me and let me take home more books than I could carry.

The similarities between myself at twenty-four and myself now are heartbreaking. And next time, because I’m coming to accept that there will always be a next time with Julian, will it be an actual physical betrayal? I’m not sure I’m willing to live my life waiting for a next time anymore.

Fuck.I swipe at my cheeks. So much for the calming effect of books. With a sniffle, I turn down another row of shelves. The book I was reading—a slow-burn romance about daemons,vampires, and witches steeped in a mystery about a missing book—still sits on my bedside table in West Dover. It’s going to stay there for the next six months, if not indefinitely, which means I need to buy it again because I must know what happens. Will the vampire return from Oxford to confess his forbidden love for a witch?

Except ten minutes later, I still can’t find it. It has to be in stock. It was recently given the television treatment and became quite popular. I know it’s sitting on a table in plain view—they always are—but I can’t do another lap of the store, and I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. I glance at the man leaning against the help desk. Khakis and a polo, what looks like a phone strapped to his belt loop, a jawline for days. He has to work here.

“Excuse me,” I say, walking toward the desk, “can you help me find a book?”

The man looks up with an easy smile, amusement coloring his gorgeous golden eyes. Good god, I will buy a book every day for the rest of my life if he works here. Soft eyes, five o’clock shadow at midday, lips that tease me with their suppleness. I try to calm the burning I feel crawling up my neck.Calm down, body! It’s not like we’ve never seen a hot guy before today.

“I’m happy to try.” His voice is as smooth and lust-inducing as his body.

I hold my phone up to show him the book in question. He nods, and instead of walking around the desk and typing something into the computer, he heads off toward the cash registers.

“I’m pretty sure I saw this on the table up front with the other books that made theleap from page to screen.”

Oh my god.He does not work here. It’s obvious as he scans the store for the table rather than walking right to it.

“Oh,” I say, my voice high and slightly manic. “I thought... You had that phone. I’m sorry.”

He smiles again, unconcerned, and pulls the phone off his waist. “Bravo delta, what’s your location?”

It’s a freaking walkie-talkie. “I’m so sorry.”

He laughs, his eyes trained on the table in front of him. He turns and hands me my book. “Not a problem at all.”

My cheeks burn, but there’s no helping it now. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know why they don’t leave any on the shelf when they put them out on these tables. It’s infuriating and confusing.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Spencer.”

The walkie-talkie streams static before I can answer. The high-pitched voice of an adolescent boy comes through. “Bravo alpha, the target has been located.”

I watch their exchange warmly, unable to ignore the fact that Spencer’s eyes never leave mine as he handles the walkie-talkie. After a moment, I turn to my book. I could get lost in those eyes forever.

“Good work,” he says into the device. “Bring her in to the checkout line, captain.”

“Yes, general, sir.”

I look up again as he hooks the device back onto his pants. “My son forgot his copy ofJames and the Giant Peachat camp and seemed to think he could get away without doing his weekend reading.”

I nod as if I know anything about children. Sure, I’m the cool aunt to Jane’s kids when I need to be, but by definition that makes me too cool for summer reading lists.

A child, maybe eight or nine, walks up to us then. He clutches two books to his chest, the Dahl and a manga with a name I vaguely remember—Naruto. “Dad, can I get this too?”

“Sure, buddy. Can you say hi to...”

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