Page 32 of Love By the Book
But right now, under the meteor-streaked sky, with her eyes shining like I’m the only thing she sees, I decide some things are still worth the risk.
“So,” I say, “does this mean you’ll be my Blue Moon Festival date?”
She huffs a laugh. "Well, I gave you a scout's honor, so I guess I'm committed. Besides, my matchmaking service hasn't exactly been flooded with clients. You're still the only brave soul who signed up."
Signing up for that might have been the most important decision I've ever made in my life. I'd wanted to throw up. I wanted to run away. But I didn't. And now I sit beside the most beautiful, charismatic, magical woman I've ever met in my life... someone who makes me feel as explosively alive as the stars streaking the sky. But I somehow know those words are too much. So I reply to her joke about giving a scout's honor instead.
“I’d hate for you to break the years of scouting and commitment behind those words.” My smile feels ridiculous. Piper would tease me until next year if she saw it. “Should we head back?”
Rhianna stands with me and takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. “Lead the way, Lancaster.”
We make our way down the slope, hand in hand, stealing glances and sharing soft laughs. It feels surreal, like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.
As we reach the bottom, Rhianna's steps slow. She turns to me, her expression shifting to something more serious,more deliberate. She reaches into her bag and carefully pulls out two books, handling them over with reverence.
"These are for you," she says softly, extending them toward me. "I've been waiting for the right moment tonight to give them to you. They're yours to keep."
There's a weight to her words, a significance that tells me this isn't some casual offering. The way her fingers linger on the covers before fully releasing them to me speaks volumes about what these books must mean to her.
I take them. The first is a colorful paperback that gleams in Rhianna’s flashlight beam. A woman builds a snowman on the cover and a scowling man leans against his snow shovel. “A man-written-by-a-woman romance novel, I presume?”
“There’s no elevator in that one, but I think you’ll like it.”
“If I remember correctly, I’m supposed to read it as my manual on how women like to be treated, no?”
She blushes. Even in the low light the color is visible. I want to reach out and feel her skin’s warmth under my fingers but it feels like too much.
“I was exaggerating a bit,” she says.
“Seagulls do not a romantic date make. I remember that much, at least.”
She laughs. “That’s right. Okay, next book.”
I slide the paperback behind the second. My breath catches. It’s a beautifully bound copy of Cyrus Whitlock’sWelsh Gods and Goddesses.By the weight and material’s feel it’s a first edition, too—one I don’t even own. It was such a limited print run that few copies remain.
I blink, stunned.
I trace my fingers over the embossed title, the gold still vibrant against the worn spine. It’s perfect. So perfect it doesn’t feel real. Mark would’ve lost his mind over even getting to hold this book and Rhianna just handed it to me.
Tonight has felt like all the magic in Magnolia Cove hasgathered just for us. It seems possible that this enchantment could extend to finding a long-lost signed copy. My fingers tremble slightly as I pull back the cover.
No signature greets me. Instead there’s floral fabric paper for bookends which significantly drops the value. Perhaps it’s not a first edition after all. Maybe someone found a cheaper print and rebound it. It’s been known to happen. I’m not disappointed, though. Instead, my attention shifts to a delicate bookmark peeking out from the pages. I flip to the marked section.Rhiannon: The Enigmatic Goddess of the Moon.
As I scan the pages, I notice delicate handwriting in the margins—elegant script with little drawings, hearts, and notations. I run my fingers over the ink, feeling the slight indentation where someone pressed their thoughts into permanence. I've always loved books with character like this—the ones that carry traces of their previous owners. There's something magical about a well-loved book, how it becomes more than just the text between its covers but a collection of memories, a catalog of all the readers who came before, their thoughts and reactions preserved alongside the author's words. Each note, each dog-eared page, each smudge or stain tells a story of its own.
I look up at Rhianna who’s biting her lip. “Did I match you with the right book?”
I look down at the beautifully preserved copy of my favorite author’s work. I smile. It's not just any mythology chapter she's marked, but the one about Rhiannon—the goddess she shares a name with, the very topic that sparked our first real conversation that day in the library. The coincidence seems too perfect to be accidental, like the universe or something older and quieter is nudging our stories into alignment. I’m not one to believe in fate. But holding this book in my hands after everything that’s led me here… It makes me wonder. Maybe this risk won’t end the way I expect. Maybe, just this once, something uncertain could still turn into something true. “You couldn’t have chosen a more perfect copy.”
She jumps up and down on her toes, her flashlight bobbing with the motion. I want to laugh. I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her again. I want to tell her how much her joy seeps into me and I think it’s changing me. Filling me up like coffee spreading its warmth into a thermos. Making me want to say big things she’s not ready to hear—things like, “Maybe I shouldn’t move back” and “How does forever sound?”
But I know better. Agreeing to a ‘no commitments’ exploration does not a promise of the future make—no matter how hopeful I’m feeling. So I tuck those dangerous thoughts away, file them somewhere betweenwishful thinkingandmaybe someday.
I close the book gently, already knowing it’s going on the shelf for my most treasured editions. “Thank you, Rhianna. This is… incredible. You’re incredible.”
She steps closer. “I mean, maybe I’m not as incredible as a moon goddess or a song by the world’s bestsoft-rockband?”
“You’re never going to let me live that one down, huh?”
