Page 95 of A Novel Love Story

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

I blushed, and turned my face into my pillow so he couldn’t see. “Stop it, it’s too early.”

“Fine, you’re hideous, then.”

I barked a laugh. “Much better.” The bed was so warm, and comfortable, I could stay there forever. Except—

My car would be ready today. The realization was like a stone in my stomach.

He began to turn to get up, when I grabbed him by the arm.

“Can we stay like this a little while longer?” I asked quietly, and then—so he wouldn’t see the real reason—I lied, “You’re so warm. And I’m comfortable.”

He shifted a little in the bed beside me, and for a moment I thought he was going to leave, but he just readjusted his arm, and nuzzled his face into my hair. “For a little while,” he agreed.

I closed my eyes, trying to lie to myself that this was fine. That the relief I felt was normal for anyone who didn’t want to get up in the mornings. That my wanting to stay here, beside him, forever, was just … a symptom of Eloraton, and not my own traitorous heart. I would miss so much of him, but most of all the way he smelled, like black tea and cedarwood and old, forgotten books,things that only book characters could really smell like. And because of that, he also smelled like memories. The good, sunlight-faded kind, the only sound the soft turn of the page.

“She wrote you so perfectly,” I whispered against his collarbone, his fingers combing through my hair.

He froze. “What?”

“It’s okay, I know. This was supposed to be your book,” I said, looking up into his face, and his minty eyes widened in surprise. Like he really thought I wouldn’t find out. I was anEnglish professor. I knew foreshadowing. Occam’s razor. Chekhov’s gun. I’ve played the game Clue. Read “The Yellow Wallpaper.” “Your unfinished happily ever after.”

“It’s not my story, Eileen.”

Of course it is, I thought.You just don’t see it.I doubted main characters ever realized they were in their own story until it began, and his had yet to. He’d meet the heroine Rachel Flowers picked out for him, and he’d fall in love with her—could it be me?

Every romance needed a happy ending, after all. It was a rule.

“I could stay,” I decided. “I don’t have to go.” Then, quieter, “I don’t want to.”

“Eileen …” Something unreadable flickered through his eyes. No, it wasn’t unreadable. I knew that expression. It was the same kind of look I’d seen before, when I’d told Liam that I loved him, and then again the look on his face in the barn, under that ridiculous antler chandelier, that he wanted something different.

“I could work at the bookshop,” I went on. “Find an apartment. I could—”

Suddenly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said as he put on his jeans, slipped on his shirt.

My heart dropped into my toes. I crawled up onto my knees, wrapping the duvet around me. “It’d be that bad?”

“No, that’s not—I … I’m sorry,” he repeated, but it wasn’t an answer. I needed ananswer.

“Anders. Anders,talkto me.”

“I—I have to go.” He put on his shoes as he hopped to the door, in such a fluster to leave he almost forgot to close it behind him. His footsteps faded away, the floorboards creaking as he descended the stairs to the first floor. I waited for the back door to open—which it did—and shut again, and the telltale sound of the lock clicking, before I curled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them.

“I just want to stay,” I muttered to the empty loft, but the only answer was silence.

A FEW HOURS LATER, I FINALLY CRAWLED MY WAY OUT OF BED,and took a hot shower, and packed everything into my weekender. I kept waiting for Frank to pull up with Sweetpea, running as good as new, and hand off the keys.

I got myself the corner booth at the Grumpy Possum and ordered the strongest coffee they served and a Honey Surprise, but Jake said they were all out of honey—something about the mutiny, he sighed—so I ordered a muffin instead. I couldn’t read anything else on the menu, anyway.

Jake took extra-good care of me—Iassumedbecause he thought I worked magic on his relationship. I just sort of wished I could’ve helped Gemma and Junie, too. Especially Junie. Leaving the inn in disrepair felt … consequential.

And Maya, oh,Maya. I wished I could just shove her and Lyssa into a room, and tell them to kiss it out. Lyssa loved her, too, I was sure of it. Didn’t she?

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice Maya until she slid into the booth across from me. “Penny for your thoughts?”

I glanced up. “Anders said I needed to start charging more.”

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