Page 33 of Love By the Book
She takes another step then presses up on tiptoe to whisper against my lips. “Never.”
I chuckle and wrap my arms around her waist. “Rhianna Wilder, you’re better than any genre-defying band I’ve ever heard.”
Her laughter vibrates through me as she presses her lips to mine. For the first time in my life, I’m not thinking about a to-do list or scholarly pursuits. I’m thinking about the future, about possibilities, about the adventure of falling for this woman who turned an entire town into a stage tonight, who makes everything feel magical. For the moment, I couldn’t be happier.
However there’s a whisper in the back of my mind.
Only a few months left.
I shiver at the realization. A few months to explore whatever this is, a few months until I have to return to my real life, my career, my carefully planned future. A few months to convince her that maybe some adventures are worth staying for. But then I push those thoughts away—tonight is about meteors and folklore and first kisses. Tomorrow can worry about itself.
I give myself over to Rhianna’s kiss, the taste of sweet ChapStick, and the quiet promise of possibilities lingering between us.
Rhianna
I’m halfway through sorting through a stack of new releases at the library when Mom drops by my desk, radiating that special brand of maternal concern that means she’s about to analyze my life choices. Again.
Though she has a Whimsical Whisk bag in hand which means she’s bringing a delicious treat. I’m weighing out whether the payoff will be worth the conversation as she approaches.
“So,” she says, drawing out the word like taffy. “The Blue Moon Festival?”
“Yep.” I scan a barcode and slide another book into the shelf-ready pile. “That is a thing that happens every year.”
“Rhi.” She grins and thrusts the bag with the peace offering out to me. I accept and when the smell of chocolate chip cookies hits, I’ve already forgiven the first part of this interrogation. Hand-delivering desserts at work? She’s definitely up to something. “I’ve heard you’re going. That’s different for you. Usually you avoid the festival claiming it”—she adds air quotes—“goes beyond kitschy and straight into cheese-ville.”
I can’t help but smile, because I do say that. And also because Ethan and Zoe’s cookies are basically the love child of magic and joy wrapped in chocolatey perfection and I’m daydreaming of escaping this conversation, making it to the break room, and stuffing one into my mouth.
“Change is healthy, right? Isn’t that what you tell your clients?”
I flash her a saccharine smile and hope it distracts her from the emotional panic attack happening behind my eyeballs. I keep replaying that moment beneath the meteor shower with Eli. How calm he was, how gently he laid it all out. No pressure. No promises. Just the chance to explore without strings attached.
I almost said no. The word wasright there.But I couldn’t make myself say it. I know this is probably a terrible idea. He’s steady and thoughtful and actually seems to like me for who I am, big ideas and all. Which is exactly what makes it terrifying.
Maybe I’m trying to be brave. Or maybe I’m just being selfish and wanting something I’m not built to keep. Either way, the idea of dishing all this out with Mom within hearing distance of regular library patrons makes me want to throw my body into the nearest book drop.
Mom’s eyes sparkle with a dangerous mix of professional insight and maternal intuition. “Interesting that you’d bring up my work. Are we perhaps deflecting from something? Or should I say… someone?”
“And there it is.” I point with the hand holding the cookie bag at her accusingly. “You promised no psychoanalysis before noon.”
“Darling, it’s 12:15.” She grins, completely unrepentant. “And Grammie Rae told me you and the charming new professor had sparks flying at that folklore event you two put on—practically lit up the whole town, she said.”
I scowl. Once, I’d admired Grammie Rae—figured I’d turn into her, even. The single, older lady the entire town considered themselves vaguely related to. The quirky one with big opinions and a bit of magic up her sleeve at all times. Now, though? I’m thinking being on the receiving end of her attention isn’t as charming.
My mind drifts to the previous night. To Eli bathed in starlight, the way his gaze had remained on me rather than the celestial display exploding above us.
The kiss wasn’t part of the plan. Neither was catching feelings for someone with forever in his eyes.
But Eli makes me want to be brave again—even if I have no idea how.
And deep down, I know how this ends. He likes the polished version of me. The real mess? That’s the part people leave.
Just like Jacob did.
“Eli’s just working at the library,” I say with a shrug that feels too stiff to appear casual. “He’s a professor and amazing with protection wards. Very professional. Very… scholarly.”
“Mhmm.” Mom draws out the sound like she’s savoring it. “And does this scholarly gentleman happen to be joining you at the festival, by chance?”
I groan and move an entire pile of books that don’t need to be moved. Mom only smirks at me, willing to accept defeat in the conversation although the twinkle in her eye says it’s not over—not close. But she pulls an envelope out of her bag. “My real reason for dropping by is that this came in the mail today and I thought you’d like to see it sooner than later.”
