Page 43 of Billionaire's Bookworm

I’d lose myself in the familiar routine of my store and forget about the way Wade’s sheets had smelled, or how adored I’d felt in his arms, or the dangerous feeling that I was falling––

No. Donotgo there Emma Michaels.

“Be good,” I told Porky sternly. “No more hidden pastries.” He wagged his tail, completely unrepentant, as I left him settled in his favorite spot by the window.

The bell over the shop door chimed as I let myself in, the familiar odors of books and coffee wrapping around me like a shield. For a moment, I just stood there, letting the early morning silence settle my nerves.

Then I spotted the stack of books on the counter––the ones Wade had bought at trivia night. Right. Those still needed processing.

I flipped through the stack, logging each title in the system. Philosophy texts, mostly––not what I’d expected from him. The last book was older, a worn copy of Kant that had been sitting in our classics section for months. As I opened it to check the condition, something fluttered to the floor.

A photograph, creased and faded around the edges.

I bent to pick it up, and froze. A college philosophy club meeting in a coffee shop, captured in warm sepia tones. And there, in the center of the frame, was a younger version of myself caught mid-laugh. I barely remembered that day––just another club meeting I’d attended to pad my resume for law school. But as I studied the image, something tugged at my memory... a late-night discussion that had stretched into the wee hours of the night.

The dark-haired boy sitting next to me in the photo was turned slightly away from the camera, but something about his profile...

“Oh my god,” I whispered, sinking into my chair.

Wade James.

Before he’d walked away from his family’s expectations, before he’d built his own fortune. The memories were hazy, but fragments came back––some late-night debate with a few other students, and this guy who’d pushed back against everything I’d said with an intensity that caught me off guard. Back then, I hadn’t really thought twice about it.

I was so wrapped up in my perfect, planned-out future that I couldn’t see past my own bubble. Pretty rich, looking back now––there I was, going on about questioning everything while I just smiled and nodded at my own life being mapped out for me. Funny how it took walking away and losing everything to finally understand what choosing your own path actually meant.

But for him...

Had that night helped push him toward breaking away from his family’s expectations? The thought made my head spin. And now here he was, making my carefully constructed world feel both more real and more complicated.

The bell over the door chimed, and I knew without looking who it would be. The universe, it seemed, had jokes.

“We’re not open yet,” I called out automatically, still staring at the photo.

“I know.” Wade’s voice was quiet, careful. When I looked up, he was standing just inside the door, his usual polished appearance slightly rumpled. He must have come straight from home after finding me gone.

“You left this morning.” It wasn’t quite an accusation, but I could hear the hurt beneath his controlled tone.

“I had to open the store.” The lie felt bitter on my tongue. I slid the photo across the counter toward him. “Found this in one of your books.”

He crossed to the counter, his steps measured. When he saw the photo, something flickered across his face––surprise, then understanding. “Ah. I forgot that was in there.”

“Did you know?” The question came out sharper than I intended. “This whole time, did you recognize me?”

“No.” He picked up the photo, studying it with an intensity that made me want to squirm. “I knew there was something familiar about you from the first day, but I couldn’t place it. It was driving me crazy, actually. Until I ran across this old photo.” His lips quirked up slightly. “You’re very different from the girl in that coffee shop.”

“I barely remember that night,” I admitted. “It was just another philosophy club meeting to me.”

“It wasn’t to me.” He set the photo down carefully. “You completely dismantled every argument I made about following predetermined paths. Told me that true philosophy wasn’t about accepting what others had decided, but questioning everything––even our own assumptions.” He chuckled. “You have no idea how many times I replayed that conversation in my head when I finally worked up the courage to tell my parents I wasn’t going to take over the family business. Especially not if it meant a merger for a marriage.”

I stared at him, trying to reconcile this revelation with everything I thought I knew. “So last night...”

“Had nothing to do with some college memory.” He moved closer, but stopped when I tensed. “Last night was about the woman who reads stories in silly voices to children, who matches my coffee addiction like it’s a personal challenge, and who lets her dog terrorize my lawn but still somehow has me wrapped around her finger.”

The sincerity in his voice made my chest tight. “Wade...”

“You disappeared this morning.” There was that hurt again, making his voice rough. “After everything––after last night––you just left.”

“I panicked,” I admitted. “Things were getting too real, too fast. And now this...” I gestured at the photo. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”

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