Page 90 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

“I believe you that you feel terrible, but are you just trying to backpedal now that you’re on your own? You weren’t saying these things to me six months ago.”

“I wasn’t ready.”

I sigh and drink. I’ve had several drinks by this point. Enough to feel a bit distant from everything, more careless with words, but certainly in possession of the majority of my judgment and all of my thoughts.

“I’m saying them now, aren’t I?” Eli asks archly, looking at me intensely. “Hurting you was one of the biggest regrets of my life.”

“Good,” I snap. “It should hurt when you do that to someone. I mean, for fuck’s sake, you could have given me some warning. A chance. Anything.”

Eli rests his hand on my forearm. I don’t move away as we stare intently at each other. Vibrating with emotion, I’m caught and claustrophobic in the corner, not sure what I want, conflicted. There’s the part of me that will always be for Eli. But my heart wants Blake.

When Eli moves in to kiss me, I put my hand on his chest to stop him. He searches my eyes, standing too close.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t be that anymore for you. I’m—well, the truth is—I’m in love with someone else.”

Eli looks about as startled as I am to say it. But in my heart, I know it’s true. I miss Blake so much, it’s visceral. He’s who I long for. Not Eli.

My guts twist at the realization.

The din of the pub continues around us. Then, it’s a shuffle of awkwardness, quickly finishing our pints and leaving. I stand on the pavement, watching him walk toward his flat. I take a moment to draw in a breath, to steal a peek at Blake’s Instagram, something I should know better than to do.

There’s a brilliant sunrise in Cumbria, all gold and pink and orange. Clouds scatter at dawn. He must have gotten up early while I slept, after the call from Eli at an unholy hour. The caption reads:

Sometimes the most beautiful things are the most fleeting, but what I wouldn’t give to go back to that moment.

For a moment, my lungs empty of oxygen and I reel, longing for that moment too.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The next day mercifully brings more work to occupy me in the shop with getting ready to reopen. There are more books on shelves than not. Everything’s starting to look very promising, even better than pre-filming. I suppose the fresh paint and new floors were worth it. We stand by the broad front window, having just put the curtain rod back up again. I climb down the ladder. Hanging curtain rods is about the extent of my DIY expertise.

DIY makes me think of Blake, and I sigh.

Meanwhile, Gemma thinks I’m sighing over decor, which is probably for the best. Less explanations that way.

“I can even sew new curtains for the window, if you want,” Gemma muses, holding the old fabric curtains over her arm.

“You can sew?”

“I’m a woman of many talents,” Gemma informs me breezily. She grins.

“It might be time for a new look, I suppose.” I consider the old curtains in her arms. They’ve been up for at least ten years. At the very least, they could use a wash.

“Let’s take some measurements. I can go get some fabric samples and we can pick something out. Or look at fabric online.”

“’Kay.”

Gemma looks dead impressed. “Wow.”

“Don’t go wild with ruffles. Just promise me.”

“No ruffles, no valances, no blinds,” she promises, counting them off on her fingers.

“Do you mind putting the curtains in the kitchen so I can do the wash later?”

“No problem.” She goes off.

Relieved, I go back to shelving in the J section. There’s comfort in the familiar routine as I lose myself again in Blake-related thoughts. Rash thoughts, if I’m honest. My furtive peeks at his Instagram have only escalated from that lapse after leaving the pub. I’ve had several looks today at that sunrise and Blake’s words.

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