Page 69 of The Bookbinder's Guide to Love

He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave the town again. Or Sera. “Does knowing help you?”

“Not really. Knowing Ford as a friend, I can’t imagine him behaving that way. He and Hamish have had so many fights but they always forgave each other. Why didn’t he do that with you?”

Wes had no real idea. “Who knows? He and my dad were on the outs. I think I was making things harder for him.”

But that wasn’t the reason. Grandpa had shared a craft he’d thought would be his career as a young man, before he’d met Grandma and their families had pressured Grandpa to get a secure job. Sometimes Wes suspected Grandpa had seen a glimpse of his own youth in Wes.

“That’s the thing about relationships I don’t get. I mean, I’ve seen them get hard. Tawdra’s husband worked away for most of the year, and when he was home, they used to fight. I kept wondering why they stayed together.”

“Did you ever ask her?”

“No. I was too afraid to rock the boat. She’d let me use the garage to make journals, and I was selling them at school, so for the first time I had my own money. I didn’t want to risk upsetting her and maybe be sent to a different home. It just seemed sad that neither was leaving—so they must have wanted to stay, right?”

“Or they were afraid to leave and be on their own,” Wes pointed out. “One of the things I admire about you is how comfortable you are being alone.”

She tipped her head to the side as she turned it to study him. Her hair was larger now that they were outside the shop, in the humidity. He again felt that punch of emotion he’d experienced on Valentine’s Day.

“We’re all alone, Wes. Liberty’s mom was the one who made me realize it. You haven’t met Lourdes, but she’s really...otherworldly. Like a wise goddess. She said to me that people end up disappointed because they’re looking outside to find fulfillment instead of looking in.”

Wes turned off the highway toward the estate sale. Lourdes did sound wise. But fulfillment was a tall order, and it was never easy to figure out what would make him content. He had thought it was a successful business. That he could find contentment in repairing damaged and torn old books.

And for a short while he did feel something close to inner peace. But it never lasted.

“I’m alone most of the time and I don’t mind it. But I’m not sure I’ve found anything fulfilling about that,” Wes admitted.

“Yeah. Same,” she said, linking her fingers through his. “It’s hard to figure out what fulfillment is supposed to be, you know? It’s like, books make me happy. RereadingThe Scarlet Pimpernelmakes me fall in love with swashbuckling romance again. But do I want that in real life? No. So is it just the fantasy life I crave?”

He pulled into the estate and followed the signs to park. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it. “Yeah. I guess we all have to define those things for ourselves. Which might be what Lourdes meant. Maybe there isn’t one way to be content.”

Which made sense to him in a way. Oz and his dad found contentment in numbers and making everything fit in a spreadsheet. And in the law. Finding statutes that backed up whatever they were arguing. He felt the same way about books and repairing them. Or finding an old edition someone wanted.

Sera must feel that way about the journals she made. He observed the care and attention she gave the covers and how diligent she was in guiding her customers to finding the right intention to put in them. They all had their things and he had to find a way to let that be good enough for him.

Sera seemed closer to it than anyone he knew, except maybe Oz. His brother just got on with things. But Wes never could. This time he had to. He had to figure out contentment and Birch Lake so he could find a way to keep Sera.

Eighteen

The smell of old paper and dust was rife in the air as they were led into a four-car garage. All the books that had once been part of the library in the big house had been boxed and moved here. Wes had scheduled an appointment, so it was only the two of them in the garage.

She closed her eyes. After sharing so much of her past, she ached in a way she hadn’t in a long time. Wes made her more vulnerable than she wanted to admit. Realization had been slowly dawning that she wanted something more permanent with him. It wasn’t just him staying at her place.

It was him mentioning that maybe in the fall they could go to London and visit the bookseller Ford had worked with on Charing Cross Road. Her heart stopped when he’d casually mentioned it, way beyond the six weeks he was contracted to work for her.

Way beyond.

She tended to plan a month ahead when it came to other people. Liberty and Poppy were the only two who had ever tempted her out of her safety zone into making long-term plans.

Now Wes.

“Since we both own bookshops, we should probably make some rules before we start browsing,” he said.

He had a point. There was a chance they might want the same books. She looked over at him; he had a list on his phone of titles he was hoping to find. And he looked so cute as he was reading over his list, and so serious. She’d never really seen this side of him before.

Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him. Startled for a moment, he hesitated and then kissed her back. “What was that for?”

“Being so cute,” she said. “If there are any books on your list, you can have them. I really don’t deal in high-end books, more stuff that will intrigue our customers and fit into genre fiction or the classics, and of course witchy stuff. Which I know you also do. So maybe we can set those aside and then alternate picking so we each get some?”

“You think I’m cute.” He stated it, tipping his head to the side.

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