Page 54 of Accidental Blind Date
“I just bought you books at the bookfair, honey. Remember?”
“Yes but it wasn’t the new Milo the Puppy book! Can I have it, daddy? Please?”
Poppy shoves the book into my hand, and I turn it over, looking at the price. “$29.99 for a picture book. It’s half thatat Hemingway.” I mumble, not realizing who is standing right behind me.
“That one is signed,” Libby says, and I flip around to face her so fast, I nearly drop the book on the ground.
Libby looks…incredible. She’s wearing yellow again, this time a soft cotton blouse paired with a short, flowy floral skirt and opaque tights. She also has on ankle high boots, the leather worn and weathered. She looks like a character out of a book. But her cute outfit isn’t what caught my eye. What’s holding my attention now.
“You cut your hair,” Delilah says matter of factly.
“I did!” Lily smiles down at her, shimmying her shoulders in a movement that makes me nearly drop the book again.
Christ, man, pull it together. It’s just a haircut.
But it’s not just a haircut. Libby’s once mid-back-length hair is chopped just below her shoulders now. It’s wavy, layered, and bouncy. She also has bangs now. The look is entirely new and completely fitting of who she is. Cute, fun, beautiful.
“I like it,” Poppy says.
“Why thank you,” Libby winks. “I do too.” Then she turns her attention back to me. “The book is $29.99 because it’s signed. By the author.”
Libby tugs the book from my hands, her fingers brushing mine in the process, and she splays it open to the first page. Sure enough, there’s a loopy signature written in Sharpie.
“How did you get signed prints?” I ask. Not that Hemingway can’t. We’ve partnered with some big names to sell signed and exclusive copies of bestsellers before. But I was unaware that this author, an author my children adore, was even putting out signed copies.
“I know the author,” Libby says with a small smile. “She likes my store.”
“You know celebrities?!” Poppy blurts out.
“She’s not a celebrity, Pops. She’s a writer,” Delilah corrects her little sister.
“She’s an artist,” Libby adds, her voice flowy and magical. “And yes. I know her. She’s a friend of mine. Us little people have to stick together.”
It’s a jab made special for me. And I take it. One, because the girls are standing here and pinning her against the counter and having my way with her isn’t really appropriate. And two, I can’t get over how truly stunning she is today.
“And now,” she claps her hands together, her voice coming out a few octaves higher and sing-songy. “It’s story time!”
The way the room erupts, you would have thought Johnny Cash just stood up at the back of a bar and said he’s going to play a little diddy about rings of fire. Everyone swarms to the kids’ corner that is barely big enough to hold the crowd. From little kids, who sit in front, wiggling on their bottoms in excitement, to bigger kids behind them and moms and dads with strollers and shopping bags and coffees all in the back, the attention of the room falls on Libby who weaves in and out of the bodies to take her place at a giant, pea green armchair.
“What book are we reading?” one little boy asks.
“I hope it’s Charles the Chameleon,” a little girl giggles. “I love Charles the Chameleon.”
“I was thinking, in lieu of my new friends here,” she smiles down at my daughters, and my heart explodes in my chest. I swallow hard, shoving my hands in my pockets and tightening my jaw. “We read the new Milo the Puppy book.”
The room erupts with excitement as Libby begins to read. Everyone is silent, other than adding little things to the story here and there along with giggles and laughs and answering questions Libby asks as she goes. She is animated, giving each character their own voice. With each page turn, she brings the story to life, and I even find myself smiling and reading along.
And for a moment, she reminds me of someone. This whole thing…reminds me of times that feel like dreams now. Beautiful, sunny, and happy and…gone.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, frowning when I see my sister-in-law Jenna’s name on the text stream.
Jenna- Are you keeping the girls tonight?
I frown, punching back an answer.
Dax- Yes, I am keeping the girls tonight.
Jenna- I am only asking because I am at the grocery store and wanted to know if I need to get their favorite foods or not.
