Page 57 of A Novel Love Story

Which was a problem, seeing as how he was almost certainly the main character of the last book Rachel Flowers never finished, which meant he wasn’t real. Long distance? I could travel. Language barriers? I could learn. Butfictional?

It couldn’t work out.

But …

I was gone tomorrow, anyway, taking the only road in and the only one out.Once I crossed Charm Bridge, would this town even be here anymore? I wasn’t sure, and with mounting certainty, every fiber of my being wanted to just getlostin this book. For a moment. For a few hours.

For a night.

I grabbed another onion ring, and curled Anders’s jacket tighter around me. It smelled like woodsy cedar and chamomile tea and the old, loved pages of a childhood novel. It was the kind of scent I could drown in. What if I did? I’d come back to the surface by morning, I was sure.

From across the table, Junie kept flicking her eyes between Anders and me.

She mouthed, “You two good?” and wiggled her eyebrows again. I rolled my eyes. I’m sure she would’ve pressed further, and maybe I would’ve caved, but the door to the patio flung open, and Ruby arrived like a hurricane.

“What sorry friends y’all are!” she declared. “Did my invite get lost?”

Will said, “I stopped by and told Jake.”

“Well, Jake didn’t tell me,” she replied, and gave us a once-over. “WhereisJake?”

“Not here,” Maya replied. “I saw him still at the cafe when I was closing up for the night.” She, with Houndstooth sitting between her legs, leaned to the side a little to look around her gigantic dog, at Ruby. “I can go get him, if you want me to? Lyssa’s not here, either.”

But Ruby wasn’t listening. She checked her watch and gave a sigh. “I should go help him.”

“He’s probably almost done,” Will replied. “He’ll come by after.”

So Ruby stayed, and, like in the books, after a few drinks Ruby liked to sing,so she took requests as she waited for Jake. She waited for Jake as Maya finished her beer and called it a night, and Houndstooth made his slow round for all the pets he deserved. She waited for Jake as Thomas bade us goodbye, because it was almost Lily’s bedtime and Thomas wanted to be there to read her a bedtime story. She waited for Jake until well past midnight, when Gail finally kicked us off the patio.

“Ruby, Ruby,” said a very drunk Junie, as she leaned against Will, “you are so good at singing. You’re, like,radiogood. You’ve got a radio heart. You should look into that.” She didn’t notice the way Ruby frowned, and stopped twisting her hair, shifting on her feet, like the words had stabbed her in the side.

“C’mon, Junebug,” said Will, and he coaxed her onto his back. “Let’s go home.”

“I like to sing, too,” she went on as they shuffled away. “Want me to sing something for you?”

“What would you sing?”

“You and me, baby, are nothing but animals,” she began, butchering the lyrics, and Will’s laughter faded down the sidewalk.

Anders and I stood with Ruby for a little while longer, but she finally decided to give up.

“He probably went home,” she said. “Goodnight, y’all.” As she left, she pulled out her phone to check it.

And then there was just Anders and me. My head was buzzing from the wine—I couldn’t remember how many glasses I’d had, and I was sure I’d feel it in the morning, but that was a problem for future Eileen. Current Eileen was feeling very good, wrapped in Anders’s jacket, as he escorted me back to the bookshop. Current Eileen was thinking about drowning in his jacket and how nice it would be. The jacket was warm, and he smelled nice.

I couldn’t remember the last time I liked someone’ssmell.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked, unlocking the front door.

I hummed in agreement. “I like you when you aren’t so prickly.”

He opened the door for me, amused, and he followed me into the store. It was cool and quiet, slivers of silver moonlight rushing in through the open windows, illuminating spines with half-hidden words. And this was my last night here. Tomorrow Frank would fix my car, and I’d be gone.

I shoved those thoughts far down beneath the warm buzz of house red wine. I wasn’t going to think about that.

“I was prickly before?” he asked.

“Like a cactus,” I confirmed, and then glanced over my shoulder to study him. “No, more like a briar patch—oh! Or arose. A song once warned me they have thorns.”

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