Page 36 of The Bookbinder's Guide to Love

“It wasn’t any of your business, Wes.”

His dad was right. They weren’t a sharing bunch. “How’d you sort it out? I never did with Grandpa.”

“Oz came in the next day with a business plan to open up a competing law firm, showed me the clients he’d be taking. He gave me the option to be his partner or his competitor,” Dad said. “And you know me—for a split second I thought,Fuck you. But then...”

“You didn’t,” Wes said.

“Yeah.” His dad sat the chair back on four legs, putting his arms on the table.

The old man looked like he wanted to say more. A part of Wes wanted to hear him say he regretted the way he’d raised them, but Wes suspected those weren’t emotions his father would ever admit to. Wes got it. He hated feelings. They made life more complicated than he was comfortable with. If growing up with his dad had taught him anything, it was that talking about what he felt wouldn’t resolve anything. Wes had gotten into the habit of keeping his feelings shoved way down, telling himself life was safer that way.

“Glad you sorted it out. Grandpa died before I could,” Wes admitted. “I need some time before we clean out the house and sell it.”

His dad took a long swallow of his coffee. “Six weeks, you said?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We can do that. I’ll mark some of the stuff I’d like to keep,” he said. “You and Oz should do the same. When you move out, I’ll hire a company to come in and value it and sell it, and we can split the proceeds.”

“I’d like to keep the library,” Wes said.

“We’ll have it valued and I’ll deduct it from your share,” his father said, more comfortable now that he was talking about numbers. His father was a big one for balanced ledgers, and Wes wondered if in some ways that was how his father found peace, the way he did by repairing old books. His father often treated him and definitely Oz like they were business partners first, sons second. His father had said more than once that he liked ledgers because numbers didn’t lie.

Wes didn’t ask, just told his dad he had to get to work and went upstairs to shower and change. Sera had told him to make his own hours, but he wanted to get out of this house and away from the feelings being with his father and brother always stirred in him.

A little bit of it was shame, and regret, and anger.

Sera sat on the couch in her back room thinking about the spell Liberty had emailed them all last night. It was a conjuring spell for bringing the thing you desired most into your life. She had written it in her journal but hadn’t put anything under it. She’d gotten in early today because she had wanted to get everything ready for Wes to work while she was running the shop.

But that hadn’t taken long. A part of her had just wanted to be out of her house and in the shop. She was excited to see Wes.

Which was unexpected. She’d spent last night remembering him in her house and feeling all those sexy feelings again. A part of her wanted to just write the emotions down to lust.

Lust was something she’d never had an issue with expressing. There was nothing too emotional tied to it. Though a good fuck did make her feel relaxed in a way nothing else ever did.

And Wes had certainly been that. But working beside him yesterday at the bench had stirred up longings that weren’t sexual. He’d talked quietly about books, recommended she switch to the Coptic stitch for binding and shared his experiences and techniques.

He hadn’t been preachy or mansplainy. It had reminded her of the conversations she’d had with Ford. She saw a lot of Ford in Wes. And yet there were things about Wes that were very distinct. Like the scent of his aftershave. And the way his long fingers moved as he assembled journals—watching made her skin tingle, wanting to feel those fingers on her again.

“Hiya. Why are you hiding out back here?” Liberty walked in with her cup of mushroom mud with Poppy behind her carrying a cup of Earl Grey. They both squeezed into the seating area around her. Last night at the tavern, they’d agreed to hire three retail workers to handle the cash registers and look into hiring a manager for the entire shop.

“Just enjoying a moment of calm before the rush,” Sera said. She wasn’t ready to share her thoughts on Wes. Not yet. She was still trying to figure out if the changes in him were real or part of a scheme. It was hard to reconcile the angry letter she’d first received with the man who’d stood next to her making journals.

She suspected they were both real. Which made it harder to figure out if she could trust him with her feelings. And she was havingfeelingsregardless of whether she wanted them or not.

Emotions that weren’t lust. That felt like caring and affection and comradery.

Of course, that could all change after the funeral.

“Did you write down your thoughts about Ford?” Poppy asked.

“I did. I’ll email it to you later,” she said. “Are you sure you both want to come tomorrow?”

“Yes,” they said at once.

“We’re not letting you go alone,” Poppy added.

“Thanks,” Sera said as someone knocked on the back door. “That’ll be Wes.”

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