Page 88 of The Midnight Book Club
“We can pick it up again another time.”
He started walking to the door, Biscuit at his heels, and Aurelia turned to check the clock again.If they kept working, she might not get to see the characters, but, for once, spending a few more minutes editing with him seemed worth the risk of missing them.
“I’m sorry, let’s keep at it,” she said, following him to the door.“I know it’s late, but I appreciate you coming over, staying to help me tie things up.We’ve made such good headway tonight.You’re very dedicated.”
He turned to her as he pulled open the door and suddenly they were standing extremely close to one another.
“I am,” he agreed softly.“Very dedicated.”
Aurelia’s eyes widened.Was that… Was he…?Her mind flashed to a memory of them standing in that same spot just months ago, when he’d told her they could be friends—just friends.
“Well, thank you,” she said quickly, annoyed at herself for having misread the moment.“See you later, then?”
“Right.Goodnight.”
Leaving Aurelia behind at the shop door, Oliver stepped out into the night and turned to wave as he and Biscuit crossed the square.
52
Thenextmorning,sittingat her desk with a mug of tea, Aurelia stared at the pages in front of her, which were crisscrossed with Oliver’s notes.Her face crumpled into a scowl at the thought of what Marmee and Marianne would have said last night if she’d told them about his visit—how she’d worried over whether to meet with all of them or spend time with him.
That thought reminded Aurelia of the story Marmee had told her—how Marigold had spent too much time with the characters and lost touch with the real world.Though Aurelia hated to call her life during daylight hours the ‘real world,’ as if the characters mattered less because they came from books and couldn’t leave the shop.They’d become real to her, but still, she understood the point of Marmee’s story.And Marigold had said the same to Mark all those years ago—it doesn’t do to live in fiction.These past months, spending time with the characters was like waking up to a world in color after living in black and white for far too long.At first, the color had only bled through inside the shop, but now… Now that she was writing again, now that she’d made a friend out of Oliver, now that Vronsky’s story was almost done, the color had flowed out the shop door and into the wider world, making her want to experience it again instead of keeping herself locked away.
Aurelia stood, carrying her mug to the front of the shop and opening the door to take in the warm spring morning as she watched people enjoying the square beyond.
Visiting with the characters didn’t have to be an all-or-nothing thing anymore.Maybe it never had; she’d just done it without really stopping to consider why.True, sticking close to the shop had helped her get through Vronsky’s book faster than she might have if she’d had a few extra lunches with Kali, or a few extra dinners (preferably non-historical ones) with David.But now it was nearly done, it was time to find a new ‘normal’ that involved going out and being in the world.She had the thought that getting out naturally included Oliver since he was a friend now too.They’d gone out for coffee and walks to work on her book, but maybe now they could get together just because—no talking about her book required.And treating him like a friend might help her put to bed certain feelings that were decidedly more than friendly.
“Put to bed,” she mumbled to herself, rolling her eyes as she closed the door and went back to her desk.If they were really going to be friends, she’d need to think of metaphors that wouldn’t make her blush or give him the wrong impression.She’d also need to think of some way to show him that she saw him as more than just her editor.What would be a nice, friendly gesture?she wondered.A walk at Highgate might be good—though she snorted a laugh at the fact that her first idea for a friendly gesture was to invite him to a cemetery.But he’d suggested it before and she felt bad for how she’d refused.She might very well cry—going there could easily bring up feelings of sadness and grief—but he was a friend now.If she needed to cry, then she would cry, and they’d move on.
Aurelia nodded decisively, then called Oliver to set a date—no,to scheduletheir walk, she corrected herself.
53
Aureliaarrivedafewminutes late to meet Oliver at Highgate, and when she saw him standing alone—no Biscuit on a lead at his side—her steps faltered.She’d forgotten that dogs weren’t allowed inside, and somehow the absence of Biscuit as a buffer, with his energy and joy, made her a little nervous.As she got closer, though, she saw that Oliver looked a little nervous too.Maybe he’d also realized they wouldn’t have any buffers—no dog and no edits to discuss since she hadn’t given him a new draft yet.But then Oliver waved and started walking over to her, a smile on his face, and she decided maybe they didn’t need any buffers after all.
“What d’you reckon?”he asked once they’d said hello and made the requisite comments about the weather.“Should we start with the East Side or the West Side?”
“The West Side was always my favorite—all those giant gothic flourishes.Start there?”
Once they were through the gates, it only took them a few minutes of slightly awkward fits and starts of conversation before they were comfortable again, just like they’d been the other night in the shop.
“I’ve always loved it here,” Oliver said as they moved deeper inside, where the trees were ancient and looming, and the mausoleums leaned precariously but charmingly against each other.
“I thought you didn’t like old things?”Aurelia teased.
“I like newer books, but I love everything old about London,” he said, looking wistfully at an old headstone as they passed it.
She was surprised by the note of nostalgia coming from Mr.Ebooks Are the Future, but she liked it.Without realizing, she was watching him, factoring this new aspect into her ever-evolving understanding of who he was.He looked over and caught her looking at him—gazing at him, really.She was sure he could see her feelings for him written all over her face.
“You like everything old—is that why you like it here?”he asked.
Aurelia was glad for the question and the distraction from the track her thoughts had been running on.
“It’s one reason.I like the idea that generations of people have walked through here, maybe even reading the same books I’ve brought in to read on one of the same benches, under one of the same trees.And… This is kind of embarrassing, but… I like looking at the tombstones and mausoleums and writing down names that might work in whatever I’m writing.”
“I don’t think that’s embarrassing—it’s a nice way to honor someone.Even if you didn’t know them, using their name is a way of keeping their memory in the world, isn’t it?”
Aurelia was at risk of gazing at him again.
