Page 112 of A Novel Love Story

An idea began to form in the back of my head. It was crazy, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder … what would it hurt?

When she sat back down and pulled a blanket over her wrinkled interview skirt, I gave her a thoughtful look.

“Why don’t we?” I asked her.

“We what?”

I bumped her shoulder against mine. “Why don’t we open up a bookstore?”

“You’re kidding.” She laughed. “Us?”

“Whynotus?”

Her laughter died in her throat, and she gave it a thought. “I … huh. Why not us?” she echoed.

“It could be an adventure,” I said.

“It could be a disaster,” she replied.

I grinned. “Sounds fun.” We logged on to the Zoom, and were the first ones in the room. “Did you finish the book for book club, by the way?”

“Yeah, waiting for the interview today. I hated the ending.”

“Why?”

She scowled. “Ghosts should staydead. It was a total cop-out.And they fell in lovewaytoo fast. It was too insta-love-y for me. And? No one saysdoggoanymore.”

“I say doggo,” I replied.

She scrunched her nose. “Ironically?”

“Totes—”

Olivia came into the Zoom and said, “There’s a difference between insta-loveand insta-lust. A lot of people mistake the two.”

Prudence frowned and looked back at the screen. “Are you saying—oh my god, Liv!” she gasped, holding her hand up to the screen to block her view. “Are you in thebath?”

“You can’t see anything,” Olivia replied, piling more bubbles atop her chest. “It’s lavender-scented.”

Two more people entered the Zoom: Aditi and Matt. They were absolutely unfazed by Olivia’s view.

“Good morning—or afternoon, wherever you are,” Aditi greeted, and Matt waved with a grunt. “Is Benji here yet?”

“Not yet,” I replied.

“This is exciting,” Matt said, putting on his glasses to finally see everyone. “Look at everyone’s faces! And, uh, other parts. It’s been too long. Next year, we’ll all be back at the cabin. No buts!”

“Already in my calendar,” Aditi said.

“And requested it off,” Janelle added, logging on from what looked like her car. She was slurping up instant ramen, still in her nursing scrubs. It must’ve been her night on call.

Then another video joined the fray. Benji, his glasses low on his face, and beside him was his fiancée. Apparently she’d been a ghostwriter for the famous Ann Nichols, and we all swore that we wouldn’t read Ann in the book club. No, instead we read the ghostwriter’s most recent novel—

“And there’s the author herself!” Olivia crowed. “First off, I just wanted to say what alovelystyle and voice you have, Florence.”

The blond woman blushed. “O-oh, thank you very much.”

Benji leaned toward the screen, squinting. Then he cleared his throat. “Liv, are you …”

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