Page 54 of His Juliet

Juliet

I’m getting ready for that book signing at the store this evening

Romeo

Shit. I’m sorry I can’t be there

Juliet

That’s ok! I understand! And it’s not like you need tips in the romance department haha

I swallowedhard as I set my phone down on the counter. It wasn’t a big deal that Romeo couldn’t come. He would probably be bored, anyway, and I would be too busy to talk with him.

None of my excuses convinced my aching heart. I wondered if the two girls with the service dog would actually show up. I brought up the event page with the RSVPs and stared at the list of names. I didn’t know which scenario was worse—no one attending the event and knowing that I let the author down, or all these people showing up and having to face them and be normal and social.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to stand tall. I had chosen to plan this event, had agonized over every detail. There was nothing else to do now other than get the store ready.

* * *

It was confirmed.The worst-case scenario was, in fact, everyone showing up for the signing. The shop was packed and my hands shook as I clutched my notecards. Thank god I wasn’t the one interviewing the author—she had asked me last minute if her writing partner could come and lead the Q and A portion of the evening—but I still had to welcome everyone to the store and give an introduction. Why had I thought this was a good idea? I’d invited all these people into my safe space, and now I was drowning under the pressure and anxiety of hosting them.

I peeked at my phone, secretly hoping Romeo had sent me a text or something to wish me luck.

No new messages.

I swallowed hard as I slipped it back into my pocket. The two women also weren’t here. Which was fine. I just… it would have been nice to have some familiar faces in the crowd. And I thought maybe they wanted to be friends.

The skin on my thighs itched. I breathed through the urge to deal with my emotions in the dark way I used to when I was younger. That wasn’t me anymore.

Oh god.

It was time.

My legs felt like they were made of concrete as I made my way to the front of the room. The author and interviewer were sitting at the front, smiling at me.

My notecards were crumpled in my tight grip. I gritted my teeth and forced a smile.

“Welcome, everyone, to the first-ever author signing at Olive Branch Bookstore!”

Is that what my voice normally sounds like?

The faces in the crowd blurred behind my haze of panic as I stumbled through the rest of my introduction, but a tiny voice in the back of my mind pointed out that everyone wassmiling. I gave an awkward little wave and stepped aside. Sweat prickled my skin as I melted into the background and caught my breath, but there was also a tendril of warmth running through my chest. I had done it. Not just the introduction, but bringing everyone together for the event.

This was a pivotal moment. One of the first brave things I’d done in the past few years, and it made me feel like I was moving towards a life I wanted and the person I wanted to be.

I stayed to the side during the event, taking everything in. Most of the attendees were young women, but there were a few men scattered through the crowd. My eyes snagged on an enormous bald man in the back row. My brow furrowed. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. He didn’t look like romance books were his thing, but people could surprise you. Although, when I looked at the crowd again, he was gone, so maybe he did decide the event wasn’t for him.

Once the author’s talk was over, I organized the line for the signing. Everyone was kind, and I even managed a bit of small talk. By the time the last people filed out of the store, I was exhausted but pleased at how everything had gone. Maybe even a little proud of myself. The author had been ecstatic about the turnout and thanked me profusely on the way out.

I smiled as I flipped the sign toclosed.It took me another hour to clean up the main room and I was yawning by the end. I couldn’t wait to curl up in bed, read, and maybe have a late-night call with Romeo. I had missed him the past couple of nights.

I grabbed my jacket from behind the desk and a flash of red caught my eye. I did a double-take—a small bouquet of bright red poppies wrapped in brown paper sat on the checkout counter. I looked around and gently picked them up. Had someone left these for me? The flowers were delicate and fragile but absolutely gorgeous.

I held the bouquet to my chest as I left the shop and walked home. I didn’t know who had left them, but they made me feel special on a day when I’d otherwise felt a bit forgotten.

30

ROMEO

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