Page 114 of A Novel Love Story

The Grand Romantic

THE DAYS GOT COOLER,and the leaves turned orange, and for two whole weeks we got a lovely and brisk fall. I broke out my warm cardigans, and bundled up in scarves and knit caps, and taught English 101 at 10:00 a.m. sharp, and, in the evenings, Pru and I began to renovate the small storefront we leased. It took a minute to scrape together the funds, but Benji was the one who suggested a crowdsourcing campaign, and who knew so many people wanted to help out? Between that and the small business loan we got with Jasper’s help, we managed. So we spackled the walls, and we hung the light fixtures, and when Jasper could take off work, he helped us install the hardware and laminate floors. We painted murals in the few places we couldn’t fit bookshelves, and set about ordering every romance novel we could think of. The entire thing was tiring, and some nights when a shelf fell down, or we found an infestation of cockroaches in the break room, we wanted to quit. But we didn’t. We put on a steamy audiobook, and critiqued the sex scenes late into the night as we painted, and sanded,and plotted. We discussed Nora, and Ann, and Beverly, and Rachel, and we compared covers and marketing tactics, and how the genre had transformed itself over the years to its current iteration.

That fall, I told my dean that I wasn’t signing a new contract for the next year, and she did everything to try to get me to stay, but nothing would.

“You’ll regret it,” she said. “You’re so close to tenure!”

I doubted it.

And then we were a week from opening, and I’d just painted the bookstore name above the storefront window, and it didn’t look half-bad.

Jasper frowned at the name. “Like, a meet-cute?”

“At the end,” I supplied. “It’s when Darcy tells Elizabeth he loves her most ardently, when Mark brings Bridget a new diary, when Harry tells Sally he loves her, when Will buys Junie the inn.” I smiled up at the name, putting my hands on my hips. “The grand romantic gesture.”

So, obviously, we named the bookshop the Grand Romantic.

We opened the bookstore at the end of a rainy October. Benji and his fiancée flew down from New York, though that might have been because she was the guest on our opening night. The others in the book club also came, and Pru and I were afraid that they’d be the only ones.

“Even if they are,” Pru said, adjusting my silver-sequined jacket, and gently pulling my braid free of the sequins, “then it’s going to be the best night of our lives.” She was dressed in a pastel mauve dress with tulle at the bottom, flowers in her recently cropped hair. “Now, I’m going to go out and mingle, and you should, too.”

“I will,” I replied, though I felt a little sick to my stomach at the thought of walking out, and seeing no one in the store.

What if our bookstore failed? What if—

Stop, I forced myself to think. I was getting ahead of myself.

Life wasn’t about the ending. It was about everything else. And tonight, it was about opening a bookstore with my very best friend.

Pru turned and began to leave the back area that was closed off with a curtain. There was a threadbare fainting couch there, and a water dispenser, and a calendar where we’d already written down about a dozen events—and prayed togodpeople attended.

“Hey, Prudence?” I asked.

She glanced back at me, halfway to pulling back the curtain to go greet our guests. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For going on this adventure with me.”

She smiled, and reached out her hand, wiggling her sparkle-tipped fingers, imploring me to take it. “Come on, Eileen.”

I folded my fingers with hers, and we stepped out into the bookstore.

It was crowded with people.

My heart was so full, it felt like it might explode. Pru squeezed my hand tightly.

“See?” she mouthed, and wandered into the crowd, leaving me to my own devices.

Most everyone was familiar—my colleagues at the university, and some of my students, and most of Jasper’s law firm. Everyone congratulated me, shaking my hand, telling me how beautiful the bookstore was, how unique the selection. Everything was hand-selected, from traditionally published romances to self-published to vanity presses. Pru and I had done our homework, and we’d scoured the internet for a well-rounded collection so that there was a little bit for everyone. Most people kept a wide berth from theMONSTER COLLECTIONkiosk that Pru had lovingly created, but those who came up to explore the selection ended up chatting with each other, comparing their tastes.

I sipped on my champagne, and made sure that people found what they were looking for. A few customers came up to me, asking about Quixotic Falls. They’d read about it in a piece in theNew York Times. Obviously I was thrilled, but as I was about to ask what the article was, I saw a familiar man near the front of the store. I thought my heart would jolt, my breath would hitch, but … seeing Liam Black for the first time in a year and a half did nothing for me. Absolutely nothing.

It wasn’t him who came over, though. It was his wife, Bethany. “You must be Eileen,” she said. She was petite and fit, with long black hair and wide eyes. “This place is gorgeous. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” I replied, wondering why she was here. To gloat that she’d gotten Liam? To show me her ring?

She held up an Ann Nichols book. “I’ve been dying for a romance bookstore. I saw on the sign there might be a book club? Liam doesn’t really read, but I’mvoracious.”

I glanced back at Liam, and he seemed keen on simply ignoring me. It was very clear that he’d come because of her, and whether he wouldn’t look me in the eye because what he did to me was shitty, or because he simply didn’t care—

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