Page 131 of Where We Bloom

My vagina is weeping with joy.

“I have a question,” he says as I sip coffee and breathe in the sea air and ogle my man.

“Right now, dressed like that, I’ll give you anything you want, billionaire.”

His lips twitch, and he ghosts his fingertip down the bridge of my nose. “It’s just lounge pants, bumble.”

“It’s notjustanything. Okay, focus. What’s your question?”

“What’s your favorite book?”

I pause, then frown up at him. Christ, he’stall.

“Like my favorite book this year so far? Or my favorite broken down by trope or genre?”

“Of all time,” he replies, skimming his hand up and down my arm.

“I don’t know if that exists for me,” I reply honestly. “I’ve read thousands of books, I’m sure. If you want to talk classics?—”

“Start there,” he agrees.

“Well, there’s a list.Little Women, of course.Jane Eyre.To Kill a Mockingbird,Anna Karenina,The Count of Monte Cristo. I readWuthering Heightsevery year at Christmas.”

“You do?” He kisses my forehead and smiles down at me. “Why?”

“Because it’s heartbreaking and wonderful and like visiting an old friend. It’s an interesting story about greed and family, and well … I like it. Finding a first edition is almost impossible.”

Now his gaze tightens, obviously interested in what I’m telling him.

“Why?”

“Well, it was originally published under the name Ellis Bell rather than using her real name, Emily Brontë. It was also her only novel. She died at just thirty years old. Anyway, finding a copy ofWuthering Heightswith Ellis Bell listed as the author isn’t easy to do and quite expensive.”

He takes my hand and leads me down the path that seems to meander by the cliffs, away from the house.

“Aside from the classics, I also enjoyOutlander,yet among modern work, I don’t know. It’s so hard to choose.”

“Favorite authors, then?” he asks, and again, I have to bite my lip and think.

“I’d have to narrow it down to about ten.” I shrugwhen he laughs. “You don’t understand. There are so many gifted authors, and I consume a lot of books. Devney Perry and Monica Murphy are two of my favorites. They’re auto buys for me.”

He nods, and now I’m curious.

“What about you? What do you like to read?”

“I don’t have a lot of time to read for pleasure.”

“Bullshit.” There’s no sting in my words as I nudge him with my shoulder.

He kicks up an eyebrow, and I shrug. “We all have time. We just choose to use it in different ways, which is totally valid. And youarea busy man. But you’re not working twenty-four seven.”

“I’d rather spend any free time I might have with you,” he says.

“And sometimes, I’m reading while you’re spending time with me.” I chuckle and lean into him, enjoying him and our walk by the cliffs. “Not everyone has to be a reader. But you do have all of those books in the bedroom.”

“I read thrillers and a little fantasy here and there. I also consume a lot of online articles,” he says, thinking it over. “Podcasts. That sort of thing.”

“I’ll listen to podcasts with you.”

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