Page 34 of Love By the Book
As I accept the envelope, I read the sender information. TheWorld Library Tour Fellowshiplogo makes my heart stutter. Someone shuffles by, a woman pushing a toddler in a stroller, but I barely notice them. My gaze is glued to the envelope in her hands.
“You knew I applied?”
Mom’s expression softens into something that makes my throat tight. “Of course I knew, honey. I was waiting for you to share when you were ready. I see how hard you’ve worked, how carefully you’ve saved.” She pauses and her gaze goes distant like she’s weighing her words. “Maybe I’ve pushed too hard sometimes, tried to shape your path because I’m so content with mine. But this isn’t about my dreams for you anymore.”
She reaches across the desk and takes my hand. “I just want to see you happy and successful, Rhianna. And maybe that means you can’t go through life my way, or process things my way. Maybe you have to go your own way.”
Go your own way.
The words slam into me, sending me straight back toThe Tipsy Mermaid, to Eli on that stage, his voice raw and beautiful as the words to that song poured from him. To the way his eyes found mine, like maybe the lyrics weren’t random.
So much for keeping things simple.
Eli has infused himself into my bloodstream, sunk into my bones. Last night the stars seemed to rain when his lips met mine. The world narrowed to just that moment—his hands gentle on my face, the soft brush of his thumb across my cheek, the expert way he molded our mouths together.
It’s casual. That’s what we agreed. A little adventure, no strings attached. But there’s nothing casual about the way my heart does backflips when he walks into the room, or how I’ve begun reading through Cyrus Whitlock’s works just to see his eyes brighten when I discuss them. There’s nothing casual about the way I catch myself memorizing the sound of his laugh, or how I think about him even when I shouldn’t.
My stomach’s been in knots all day. I couldn’t even finish breakfast. Because I know myself. And this isn’t casual anymore. Not for me.
I keep thinking about how easy it is to say yes to him.
Yes to dinner.
Yes to staying later after work to chat.
Yes to letting him in, inch by inch, even when I swore I’d never do that again.
After Jacob I swore to myself to never give someone the ability to break me again. Eli is like a too-rich wine I shouldn’t have sipped. Now I can’t stop. I keep going back for more, even though I know how this ends. Because I’ve lived it.
Jacob not only left me when I needed him most, he made it feel like it was my fault. Eli doesn’t know that version of me yet. The cracked, unraveling girl beneath all the magic and charm and good intentions.
But when he does—when it stops being light and flirty and starts getting messy andreal—he’ll do what Jacob did. He’ll leave.
And the worst part? I’m already hoping he won’t. And that’s what terrifies me the most.
My fingers trace the envelope’s edge. Inside could be everything I’ve worked for. Six months of adventure and, with my savings, possibly more.
So why am I hesitating to open this letter?
This is my escape plan. The one I’ve clung to since Jacob left. I should tell Eli about the fellowship and my travel plans. Lay it all out. Let him know clearly and simply that this thing between us can be only for the summer. That it’s casual, just like we agreed.
But something is stopping me.
Some quiet, persistent beat of hope that doesn’t want to say the words out loud. Because somewhere between the gentle kisses, enthusiastic conversation, and the way his magic tangles with mine, I started wondering if this could be something more.
Maybe this envelope will make the choice for me. Maybe it’ll let me keep pretending I’m not already halfway in. I slideopen the envelope’s flap. My hands are trembling and Mom is watching me in a way that says she isn’t breathing and I’m pretty sure I’m about to throw up all over a book return cart when I read the words that don’t seem real:
Dear Ms. Wilder,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as a semifinalist for the World Library Tour Fellowship…
“Oh, my god.” The words come out as a whisper. “Oh, my god.”
Mom peers over my shoulder, then squeals loudly enough that it echoes around the library and draws the attention of Claire and a few patrons. “Rhianna!” she says. “This is incredible!”
It is incredible. It’s everything I’ve dreamed of. Half a year of exploring the world while doing work I genuinely love. The kind of adventure Grandma Ida and I used to stay up late planning, tracing our fingers across maps and imagining the stories we’d collect. And maybe… a break. From Magnolia Cove and Jacob and the memories that seem to huddle at every corner.
I’m pretty sure I can convince my boss of the program’s merits—she’ll likely hold my position while I’m gone.
