Page 100 of Authentically, Izzy
Her forehead wrinkled and she stared back out over the view, her palm reaching up to rub at her neck again, a sure sign of nervousness. “Brodie, I know we’ve talked about ideas to improve Sutherland’s, but it already has such great atmosphere and”—she waved a hand toward him—“all those books. How can that be wrong?”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
Her bottom lip dropped.
“You know it’s true,” he softened his lips into a smile. “I’ve watched your expression from across a screen or in person for almost five months. I’ve learned to read you.”
She folded her arms across her chest and stared back at him—her battle stance. “Have you?”
“Mm-hmm.” He matched her pose, inciting the corner of her pinched lips to tip. “In the bookshop downstairs you wanted to say something, but you didn’t. Your eyes did that thing.”
“My eyes did that thing?”
“Yes, they grow wide and then your eyebrows ping and your lips tighten closed as if you’re trying to stop whatever you’re thinking from bursting out into words.”
She stared at him in silence before her smile flared. “My eyebrows ‘ping’?”
“They do.” His grin spread into a chuckle. “Don’t doubt me.Video chatting is not a preferred substitute for in-person communication, but it does provide ample opportunity for close observation and your brows certainly . . . ping.” He held her gaze, sobering. “And I’d wager that whatever you are keeping inside is worth hearing, Isabelle.”
The smile faded from her lips. “Why are you so determined?”
“Because what you think, who you are, matters to me.”
She shifted in her chair, bringing her hands to her lap. “But as far as this bookshop is concerned, this isn’t my business. It’syourfamily bookshop.”
“How many conversations have we had where you’ve detailed what you’d do to make a bookshop thrive?”
Her teeth skimmed over her bottom lip as it puckered into a hesitant frown. “A few.”
“Dozen.” He bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You have a gift. Something not everyone possesses. I don’t. Mum doesn’t. I can do the numbers and have the meetings and talk about why I love a certain story. Mum can convince anyone to buy a book, and usually two. But you see something I can’t. You have an awareness of how stories fit within a bookshop in such a way to draw people in. I’ve watched you read to children and talk with people on the street back in North Carolina. I’ve seen how you decorated the library and engaged curious readers. Isabelle, why not spread your wingshere? I want to see you fly.”
She blinked over at him, those large eyes taking on a glossy hue before she blinked again and cleared her throat. “Brodie, sharing stories in a library with first graders is not the same thing as renovating a family legacy.”
“Or a family antiquity, if we don’t do something to save it. You were made to bring stories to life. Andthis”—he waved toward the door to the shop—“is a keeper of stories.” He leaned closer toher. “We could share it all together. Life, books,Lord of the Ringsreferences.”
“Why is sharing this with me—hearing from me—so important to you?” The question quivered out of her, piercing him.
“It’s what people do when they care about each other. I want to know everything about you, which includes your dreams and thoughts. I want you to trust me enough to be authentically you.”
A breath puffed from her pout and she turned away. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she see what he did? From all the stories she’d told of her love for books—for all her marketing ideas and creative structure. This opportunity was perfect for her. What was he doing wrong? Pushing too hard?
“Help me understand.” He softened his voice, begging her to cross whatever rift separated him from reaching this spot of her life, her heart. “We’ve had thousands of conversations about all sorts of things, but any time I attempt to ask for your suggestions or critique, you change the subject or deflect. We’ve talked about controversial topics, so fear of some disagreement can’t be the reason.” He took her palm into his. “We’ve even discussed your very poor decision to love Mr.Darcy when he’s clearly a serious and somewhat disgruntled sort of person without one hint of puns.”
She shot him a mock glare. “On that one we’ll have to agree to disagree for eternity.”
He wrapped both his hands around her cool fingers. “I want this relationship to become permanent, which, if you agree, means you’d become a part of my lifeandmy family.” He punctuated his words with a press of his fingers against her knuckles. “We’d be partners, you and me. Your ideas, your silly fictional crushes, and even your criticism—I want you to be free to share all of them with me. It’s how the best romances work.”
“I... I know that.”
“Then your ideas matter and you’d end up as an equal part ofthisfamily, which means your voice is as important as anyone else’s.”
“That’s not true.” She jerked her hand from his and stood. “You can’t just step into a family like that!”
“Well, I’d expect it to take time with Mum and Anders, of course, but you and I already are at a place where we can share—”
“I can’t just push my ideas on your family. I’m an outsider, Brodie.”
“My entire family has heard a nauseating amount about you for the past four months. You’re not an outsider any—”
