Page 61 of Love By the Book
Alex cups her hands around her mouth. “I KNOW! BUT SHE ONLY ASKED BECAUSE SHE’S SCARED! ANDSHE DOESN’T THINK SHE’S WORTHY OF A GRAND GESTURE!”
A grand gesture. I’ve heard Rhianna talk enough about romance tropes to understand what Alex means. And if there’s anyone in the world who deserves a dramatic declaration of love, who deserves to be chosen completely and without hesitation. It’s Rhianna Wilder—with her boundless enthusiasm, her kindness, her ability to see wonder in even the most ordinary things.
But there’s a problem.
“I CAN’T BREAK MY PROMISE TO HER!” I shout.
Even from her place in the crowd, I can see Alex roll her eyes. “PROMISES ARE ABOUT THE HEART OF THE MATTER, DON’T YOU THINK?”
The ferry’s engine changes pitch, and I feel the subtle lurch as it pulls away from the dock. Panic flares in my chest. I’m leaving. The dock is slowly inching away with each passing second.
With a gasp, I sprint toward the railing and vault over it, propelling myself toward the dock in a leap that is neither graceful nor well-calculated. For a terrifying moment, I’m suspended in the air. Then Marcus Blackwood—owner of A Novel Idea—lunges forward and catches me just before I would have tumbled into the water.
“Your luggage is still below deck!” calls a crewmember from the ferry.
Another flash of panic. My rare books. My research materials. My color-coded file system. “I’ve already paid!” I call back, straightening my glasses. “I’ll get it from you later!”
“It might get lost!” The crewmember warns.
Six months ago, this would have sent me into a tailspin of anxiety. But now I find myself shrugging. Right now there’s only one thing I can’t afford to lose. “I’ll figure it out! I have something more importantto handle!”
I thank Marcus then weave through the small crowd that’s gathered, hearing snippets of gossip already forming in my wake.
“I just love living in Magnolia Cove don’t you?” Grammie Rae says to Mrs. Delehay with a delighted grin.
“Wait until bridge club hears about this,” Mrs. Delehay replies, already reaching for her phone—and then holding it up in the air like an antenna, trying to find a signal.
Alex meets me halfway down the dock, and I’m slightly out of breath as I reach her. “Okay,” I say, “what’s next? Where’s Rhianna?”
Alex suddenly looks sheepish. “Well, that’s the thing. I kind of promised Rhianna I wouldn’t get involved with her decisions around her love life. I didn’t think that applies to your decisions… but still, my involvement should probably end here.”
I stare at her in disbelief for a moment before a laugh escapes me. “I’m not sure you’re the person I should be taking advice from about what promises mean, then.”
Alex grins. “Maybe not. But good luck.” She starts to turn, then looks back with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, and Eli? Just… be gentle with her. She acts like she’s allergic to being loved, but it’s really just fear with good PR.” Her voice softens. “She loves you, she doesn’t believe she gets to have you loving her back.”
Her words land like a stone. God, if only Rhianna knew. If she only knew how easy it is. How inevitable it’s become. I nod, not trusting my voice, and turn toward the path that leads to her.
Because I’ve seen Rhianna Wilder at her worst. And I still want her. Every messy, magnificent piece. Now I just need to let her know it.
What follows is a whirlwind tour of Magnolia Cove. I try the library first, but Claire tells me Rhianna calledout sick. Her home yields nothing but Mrs. Wilder offering me a slice of apple pie that smells divine but which I reluctantly decline. I stop by A Novel Idea where Mia gently shakes her head from behind the cash register. I check the gazebos and benches around the town square and park. I walk along the shoreline. I even go as far as the stretch of rocky beach beyond the resident’s area, where the wind whips hard and cool—each location emptier than the last.
By the time I approach The Whimsical Whisk, the sun is lowering in the sky, and I’m disheveled and sweaty. Note to self: loafers and a button-down are not built for summer sprints. Discouragement weighs heavy in my chest. My luggage is somewhere docked in Charleston by now, containing nearly all my possessions, including my rare book collection. And still no sign of Rhianna.
The bell above the door jingles as I step inside, and Zoe pops up from behind the counter, her purple-streaked hair twisted into a messy bun. “Well, hey there, Sugar,” she drawls, eyebrows lifting. “I thought you were on the last train out of this popsicle stand.” Her expression softens as she takes in my disheveled state. “You okay, Eli?”
“Tell me you’ve seen Rhianna here today,” I say, not able to muster enough energy for pleasantries.
Zoe leans against the counter. “Can’t say I have. But if I were the betting type…” Her grin widens. “And I am. I’d guess she’s somewhere trying real hard to convince herself she doesn’t miss you.”
I run a hand through my hair, which is now hopelessly disheveled. “That doesn't exactly narrow it down.”
“True.” She taps a neon-green painted fingernail against her chin. “You know, Mia’s got her comfort spots when she’s down—usually the bookstore loft or that cliff path near the old lighthouse. Magnolia Cove may be small, but peoplestill have their hidey-holes. You ever figure out where Rhianna goes when she needs to disappear?”
A memory surfaces: Rhianna guiding me up a forest path by moonlight, her voice soft in the darkness.This is where I go when I’m feeling too much.
The hill. Of course.
Zoe tilts her head, watching my expression shift. Then she grins. “Bingo.” She points at me with a wink. “I can see the lightbulb. Give the man a prize.”
