by Marie Landry
The minute I round the corner of the first stack of shelves, I pull my phone out. It’s early evening in Scotland, which could mean Hugh’s still at work, but I take my chances and call anyway. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail. I close my eyes, listening to his deep voice telling the caller to leave a message and he’ll get back to them.
I’m about to stuff my phone back in my pocket when it buzzes with a text.
So sorry, couldn’t pick up. Just leaving a meeting and going straight to a phone conference. Promise we’ll talk soon. xxx
The desire to throw my phone is strong. I shove it in my pocket without replying to Hugh. Maybe this is for the best. Maybe the distance—literal and metaphorical—will help me get over him quicker since a breakup seems inevitable. I thought I’d be okay with our agreement to hit pause, but I didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be. If we were officially a couple and making plans for the future, it would be different. Yet here it is, almost spring, and nothing has changed, nothing has been decided. There’s been no mention of him coming home, even for business, or of me visiting him in Scotland.
Bridget told me to be patient. She told me not to give up yet. I hate the idea of giving up, but there’s also something to be said for self-preservation. Hugh and I were never actually in a relationship. Hell, I never even saw his apartment here—we always spent time at my place. I do think we could be great together; if I allowed myself to think about it, which I don’t often, I could see myself building a life with him. But you can’t build a life on an unsteady foundation. One that crumbles a bit more each day.
I vow to give this one more shot. The official beginning of spring is right around the corner—a time for new beginnings, rebirth. I won’t do anything hasty. If things haven’t changed in another few weeks, I’ll have to think seriously about ending things with Hugh. After all, I’ve already proved I’m capable of fresh starts. I got a second chance with Celia, and things with her have been great. I quit the job I thought would be my forever career, and I’m living my dream of working with books. I can move on from Hugh if I have to.
The thought makes a pit form in my stomach. I can do it if I have to, but I sure as hell don’t want to.
Taking a deep breath, I come out of hiding. I stop to talk to customers and feel better after spending a few minutes in my element recommending books and telling people about the book club we’ve started. I ring up a few purchases, pleased to see some of my recommendations in the lot. This job really is everything I could have hoped for.
When the last customer leaves with a huge bag of books—my kind of woman—I hear Piper’s voice filtering from the back room. I head in that direction, planning to ask if she’d like a London Fog latte. We’ve been working on plans to rearrange the store and create a small café area. In the meantime, our personal coffee machine, tea kettle, and milk frother get a good daily workout with drinks for ourselves and a select few customers who have seen us with said drinks and offered to pay us to keep them caffeinated while they’re here.
I stop when Piper’s voice becomes clearer and I realize she sounds irritated. “You need to do something. She’s starting to get fed up and I hate keeping things from her.” I hover outside the door, a mixture of curiosity and dread swirling inside me. “I know, I know. I get that, but at this point I think it would be better to potentially disappoint her than to keep things from her.”
She goes silent, and I realize I can hear my own heart beating. I have this terrible feeling she’s talking about me. My elevated heartbeat makes my blood whoosh in my ears, and I take an involuntary step closer to the door.
Piper sighs. She sounds resigned when she says, “Okay, fine. I know you’re doing everything you can, but you need to know how this is affecting her, and in turn, me. I love her too, you know.” She pauses again and then says, “Yes, Hugh. I’ll talk to you later.”
My legs kick into gear before my brain does, and I dash away from the door. I don’t know what the etiquette is for eavesdropping and then discovering the conversation was about you, but I can’t do this right now. The sensible part of my brain is screaming at me to be a grown up and confront this head on, ask Piper what she and Hugh were talking about. She sounded dismayed; clearly, whatever they were talking about was on Hugh to tell me, not her.
Piper has done so much for me over the last few months, I hate to put her on the spot. Plus she’s been friends with Hugh a lot longer than with me, and the fact they’re still in touch when I hardly get to talk to him says they must be close.
I finally stop in one of the rows of books, taking a minute to catch my breath. My eyes are drawn to the colorful paperback spines, and I let out a little groan. Of course I’m in the Romance section. Normally this is my favorite area of the store, but today it only serves as a reminder of how screwed up my own love life is.
That new beginning I was contemplating earlier might be coming sooner than anticipated.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I bury myself in work for the next couple of weeks. I give Pied Piper Books my all, coming up with brilliant plans and executing them with results beyond anything Piper or I could have hoped for.
New customers come into the store daily. Most of them are locals, but a good chunk of them are visitors or tourists who tell us a friend or family member recommended the store, or they saw our Instagram account and had to visit. We work on our plans to add in the café, talking about potentially expanding the store later this year or next year and having an official bookstore-slash-café. We work with local artists to carry their goods—candles, paintings, jewelry—and launch a campaign to stock an entire section of indie and self-published books. I’m a machine, churning out ideas, eating, sleeping, and breathing Pied Piper Books.
I’m searching Instagram for new bookish hashtags when a text from Hugh pops up.
I hear Piper will be able to retire early from all the money the bookstore is bringing in, thanks mostly to you.
I smile. Things have carried on as usual with us over the last two weeks. Every time my brain tries to veer into ‘what if’ territory I switch into bookstore mode and replace those thoughts with my to-do list. It’s been working so far. Mostly. I’m not quite ready to let Hugh go.
We’re thinking about leaving the store to the others for a couple weeks and running off somewhere together, I text back.
I hear Scotland is nice this time of year…
Funny, I’ve heard that too.
I wait, breath catching in my throat. This is his chance to invite me to visit him. To say something or make some grand gesture to let me know he still wants me. Still wants us.
My phone buzzes and I nearly fumble it in my haste to see his reply. Except it’s not a reply from Hugh, it’s an email notification. I swipe over to my inbox and now my breath hitches for another reason. It’s a reply from a publicist I’ve been in contact with recently.
My eyes sweep over the email. My hands start shaking so hard, the phone slips from my fingers. Piper walks into the room as I’m scooping it from the floor, and her brow furrows in concern. Before she can ask what’s wrong, I thrust my phone at her. Watching her face as she reads the email is priceless; it transforms from confused to hopeful to elated in the span of thirty seconds.
She grabs my shoulders and starts jumping around. “Oh Ivy, I could kiss you!” She releases me abruptly to reread the email, her whole body vibrating with excitement. “I can’t believe you got them to say yes. This is huge. This is next level, wildest dreams huge.”
I’m smiling so hard my face aches. It’s not every day a world-renowned, bestselling author agrees to add your little bookstore to their tour stops because they’ve heard about you through the social media grapevine. I’m half tempted to pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming.
Piper gasps. “We have so much to do!” She shoves my phone back into my hands and begins pacing. “We need to start spreading the word immediately. We need to order as many copies of her books as we can, and get the book cl
ub people involved. Should I hire a caterer? We should make this a big, fancy thing, right? I can’t serve alcohol, but I can serve food and non-alcoholic drinks, and maybe a signature mocktail? Oh god, I’m going to start hyperventilating.”
“Piper.” I stand in front of her, stopping her pacing with gentle hands on her shoulders. “I know two weeks isn’t a long time, but we’re going to make this the most incredible, memorable event this bookstore—hell, this city—has ever seen. Okay? Don’t forget who you’re talking to here.”
Her whole body slumps forward and her forehead meets my shoulder. “Of course. You’re right. I know you’ll work your magic. It’s what you do best.”
*****
“Would you accept payment of my firstborn child for the magic you performed here tonight?”
Laughing, I turn to face Piper, wrapping my arms around her. Over her shoulder, I see what I’ve been trying to process for the last hour: Pied Piper Books is packed almost to capacity. I keep thinking I’m going to blink and everyone will disappear, as if it’s all a mirage. God knows after two solid weeks of working night and day, I’m exhausted enough I could be imagining all of this.
Piper gives me a squeeze and releases me. “I can’t believe we pulled it off.” Her beautiful brown eyes shimmer with tears. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you did to make this happen.”
“It was my pleasure, honestly. I got to flex my creative muscles, and it all came together perfectly.” I cast my gaze around the room, taking in the glowing fairy lights and LED-lit paper lanterns. I loosely recreated the cover of Andrea James’s latest novel, Prairie Summer, which is set at a ranch-turned-B&B in Alberta.
I roped Meredith into helping me source a photo booth and props like cowboy hats, small-scale artificial hay bales that can be used as seats, a variety of bandanas, and other miscellaneous items. It’s been a total hit, with a lineup of people waiting to have their picture taken. Pied Piper Books has been working its way toward becoming ‘Instagram famous’ and this is going to really set us apart.
“I think I need another cup of the Prairie Punch,” Piper says. “It’s addictive, even without alcohol.”
“Pinterest win,” I say in a singsong voice. We hired a caterer to provide a variety of finger foods, including oversized cupcakes with mini replicas of the book cover and tiny edible cowboy hats. People are already tagging us on Instagram with pictures of those.
Piper does a little finger wave and disappears into the crowd. I watch her weave through dozens of people, stopping to talk to several of them. From the way her cheeks flush, I know she’s getting a lot of praise for pulling off such a stellar event. Ms. James did a reading followed by a Q&A, and she’s been signing books for the last half hour. We’ve sold so many copies of her new book, along with her backlist, I have a feeling we’re going to sell out.
I surreptitiously check my phone. No new messages. I heard from Hugh last night; he wished me luck and said he knew the event would be great. I expected to hear from him today too. It’s already well after midnight in Scotland, though, so I guess I should stop checking my phone. I sigh as I slip it back into the pocket of my dress. It’s time to make a decision, and I’m afraid it’s one that’s going to leave me with a broken heart.
For tonight, I’m going to concentrate on the good. This party has been an epic success. Ms. James is charming and down to earth. She arrived early so she could chat with Piper and me, and didn’t bat an eye when Bridget burst in and went into fangirl mode. She was warm and gracious, taking pictures and signing our books, and even offering to sign some extra stock so people who couldn’t make it to the event could still get a signed copy.
I make the rounds of the store, chatting with people and stopping to replenish the food table. I’m reaching for another cupcake—I’ve already had two, but there are a ton of them and I wouldn’t want any to go to waste—when I sense someone behind me. The place is packed and I’ve had people bumping into me or brushing against me all night, but whoever this is, their nearness sets my nerves tingling.
“Excuse me. I hear you’re the one to talk to about book recommendations.”
Every hair on my body goes on high alert. I’d know that voice anywhere. Deep, soft, accented, sexy as sin. I’ve dreamed of that voice, fantasized about it, heard it in my head when I’m alone in bed and missing his touch. My throat starts to close as I turn slowly, almost afraid of breaking the spell, terrified I really am dreaming this whole incredible night.
My eyes lock with the most beautiful moss-colored gaze I’ve ever seen. He’s here. Hugh is here. I blink several times, unable to process what this means.
“I hope those are happy tears.” He touches my cheek with his thumb. I didn’t even realize I was crying, but I feel the tears now, pouring down my cheeks. I can’t seem to form words, so I throw myself at him, locking my arms around his neck. He lifts me off the ground, holding onto me like his life depends on it.
I have no idea how much time passes. I’m lost in my own little Hugh bubble. Eventually, murmured voices and giggles start to penetrate my awareness. My eyes pop open and I see half the people in the store staring at us, some of them even snapping pictures on their phones. I catch sight of Piper, who’s watching with tears in her eyes and her hands clasped near her face.
Ms. James rises from her seat at the signing table. “Highlanders were a few books back, Ivy. Shouldn’t you have hired a cowboy?” The way she winks at me makes me think she was somehow in on this. That can’t be possible, can it? Hugh sets me down and Ms. James’s words suddenly make sense. Hugh is decked out in full Scots mode: kilt, white shirt, black vest, tie, knee socks, shiny shoes. Hot damn.
“I like this much better than your Santa suit,” I choke out. He laughs, cupping my face and bringing his smiling lips to mine in an all-too-brief kiss. “What are you doing here? How long have you been planning this? I just talked to you last night, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? How long are you staying?”
His hands are still loosely gripping my face. “I promise I’ll tell you everything, but not here. I want you to enjoy the rest of this incredible night you helped make possible, and then…well, then if you’ll have me, we’ll go back to your flat and I’ll explain everything.”
“Promise?” I cover his hands with mine, turning my face into one of his palms and kissing it.
“Promise.” He kisses me again. He’s barely released me when Piper barrels over, saying she can’t wait another second. Hugh hugs her tightly, then Bridget and Celia appear, and he hugs them too. We have our own mini reunion in the middle of Pied Piper Books, with people continuing to watch us curiously.
When the last person leaves the signing line, I pull Hugh over so he can meet our special guest. “Ms. James, this is Hugh MacKinnon. Hugh, this is—”
“Andrea. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He takes her hand, smiling warmly.
“Wait, wait. You two already know each other?” My voice is pitched several octaves higher than usual.
“Andrea is a patron of the literacy program I run,” Hugh explains. “She’s been an advocate and loyal supporter from the beginning.”
This night is full of surprises. Ms. James can officially consider me a fan for life.
“You made quite the entrance earlier.” Andrea lifts her chin in the direction of the food table.
“Yes, apologies for that,” Hugh says ruefully. “Didn’t mean to steal attention away from your big night.”
Andrea scoffs. “Are you kidding? That’s going in my next book. Kilt and all.”
We chat with her for a while longer before she says she’d better return to her hotel and get some sleep. “This has been wonderful, Ivy,” she says, hugging me tightly. “I’ll look forward to returning to Pied Piper Books in the future. And you,” she says, turning to Hugh. “I’ll be calling you soon for an update.” With that, she heads for Piper, who has a container of cupcakes packed up and ready for her to take with her.
“I can’
t believe you’re friends with Andrea James and you never told me,” I say. “Wait, you didn’t just come for the event, did you?”
“No, Ivy. The event and seeing Andrea are a bonus, but I’m here for you. I’m so proud of you.” He leans in to kiss me as I catch sight of Bridget approaching. I turn my head and Hugh ends up planting a kiss on my cheek.
Bridget giggles. “Sorry, bad timing. I wanted to tell you Piper said for you two to take off.”
“But there’s so much cleanup to do,” I say, waving a hand around.
“There is, isn’t there?” She purses her lips and gazes around the store, which is a hot mess now that most people have left. Books need to be reshelved, and the food and decorations need to be cleared. “Good thing you have a team of friends who are willing to step up and get it done so you two can get out of here.”
“Oh, and I’ll be spending the night with Bridget,” Celia calls from the food table, where she’s standing with Meredith, stuffing her face with mini quiches. My gaze slides back to Bridget, who nods.
Last year, Celia had nothing but animosity toward my best friend, and now there are times when I’m afraid the two of them are going to officially declare themselves besties for life. Despite the occasional twinge of jealousy, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the relationship they’ve forged this year.
“Go,” Meredith calls. “If you don’t emerge in the next few days, we’ll send a search party for you.”
Another round of hugs and kisses ensues, and then I gather my signed books and a container of food Piper insists I take with me, and we leave. In the parking lot, I look around for Hugh’s familiar SUV. He explains he had a car drive him from the airport to his apartment, then took a taxi here. It takes all my concentration to get us home without swerving into oncoming traffic. I keep looking at Hugh in the passenger seat, checking to make sure he’s really there.