Page 54 of Love By the Book
So I say nothing.
“I’ve missed you,” he says and the quiet honesty in his voice nearly breaks me.
And I really am a coward after all, because instead of answering, I focus on straightening my white gloves. “It’s been a busy week.”
“Rhianna.” The way he says my name—like its precious and fading—makes me hold my breath. “What’s happening here? Ever since dinner with your parents, something’s changed. Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I admit, because I can’t bear to let him think this is his fault. “You were perfect.”
He steps closer, and I can smell the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the comforting smell of old books. “Then what is it?”
The children’s laughter rises in a crescendo from the Mystery section, the sound so at odds with the heaviness between us. I draw a shaky breath.
“It’s just…” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. “We agreed to keep things casual, remember? No expectations. Just… exploring for the summer.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes searching mine from beneath the brim of his cap. When he speaks, his voice is steady, but there’s something raw underneath like he’s trying to hold together the edges of something that’s already cracking. “And that’s what you still want?” he asks softly. “Something casual? Something that ends when summer does?”
A lump rises in my throat. Of course it’s not what I want. I want him—his quiet smiles, his steady hand in mine, the way his mind somehow makes sense of my chaos.
But what I want doesn’t matter. I’ve seen how this ends. I’m always too much—too emotional, too messy—and eventually, they leave. Eli would too. Building history with someone only to lose them isn’t romantic. It’s ruinous.
“I think it’s for the best,” I say, the words tasting like dirt. “We’re different people, Eli. You plan your life in color-coded sections. I spill glitter on everything I touch.”
“That’s what I love about you.” The intensity in his voice makes my breath hitch. He means it. At least for now, he does.
I shake my head. “You say that now. But eventually, you’ll get tired of the chaos. Of me being too much.”
“Too much?” His brow furrows. “Rhianna, that’s ridiculous?—”
“No, it’s not.” My voice rises before I catch myself. “It’s what happens. People leave. They always do. And when they leave, it breaks something inside you that never quite heals right.” I swallow, my throat tight. “I’m so sorry about this. You deserve someone whole and lovely and just right. But that isn’t me.”
His gaze softens with something like understanding. “This isn’t really about me, is it?” he says gently. “It’s about… someone before. Someone who hurt you.”
The fact that he knows—that he’s pieced together the fragments of my past I’ve shared over late-night conversations and sun-drenched beach walks—only make this harder.
“It’s about me knowing how this story ends,” I whisper. “About trying to protect us both before we get in too deep.” I take a deep breath that doesn’t feel like it reaches my lungs. My voice trembles when I speak. “This was supposed to be a no-commitment summer fling. And I was foolish to ever believe I could keep it that simple. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. I never meant to but this has shown me that I’m selfish. That I wanted all the magic without the risk. And you…” I look at him, the man I love and am letting go. “You deserve someone better than me.”
He takes my hand, and I let him, because I’m weak and this might be the last time I feel his touch.
“Don’t do this,” he says, his voice catching on the words. “Don’t decide our ending before we’ve even had a chance to live the story. That’s not fair. Not to me. And not to you either.”
“Fair?” I pull my hand away. “What’s fair about letting you rearrange your entire life around someone who will never fit into your perfect system?”
“Perfect system?” He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Rhianna, have you seen me these past months? I’ve jumped out of planes. I’ve sung karaoke with a bunch of strangers. I’ve made more spontaneous plans than I have in my entire adult life. And I’ve never been happier or more alive.”
For a moment, I almost believe him. Almost let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, he’s different. That maybe I could be enough. But then reality crashes back.
“You say that now,” I repeat, crossing my arms over my chest. “But what happens when the adventure wears off? When I’m just me—too loud, too messy, too much—and you realize you’ve upended your carefully planned life for someone who doesn’t fit?” I shake my head before he can speak. “You’re still caught up in the spark. But one day the glitter settles, and all that’s left is the mess underneath. And when that happens, this will end—it’ll just hurt a hundred times more for both of us.”
Eli looks too stunned to speak. A child’s shriek of glee in the distance snaps me back to the present—to the event I’msupposed to be running, to the library filled with laughter and scavenger hunts and carefully arranged book displays that suddenly feel a million miles away.
“You told me once,” I say, my voice steadying, “that if I ever said we were done, you’d respect it. Not guilt. Not pressure. You promised.” A sheen spreads across his eyes, but I force myself to keep his gaze. “I’m done, Eli.”
It’s what needed to be said. So why do the words feel like arrows I’ve plunged into my own heart? Not Cupid’s gentle shots—but something fatal. The light in Eli’s eyes dims and I hate myself for putting that spark out. But this is necessary. It’s short term pain for mercy in the long run.
His jaw tightens. For a moment, I think he might argue, might fight for us. A small, selfish part of me almost wishes he would. Instead, he nods once, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I did say that,” he whispers. “And I meant it. If that’s really what you want… I’ll let you go.”
“It’s what needs to happen,” I correct, because it’s not about want. If it were about want, I’d be in his arms right now.
