“You could’ve asked for more,” Charlotte said.
“Says the lady who wouldn’t pay for a doctor’s visit.” Nicole sighed up at the gorgeous ceiling. “Starving myself for a few weeks was worth following my dream. Besides, how much would you risk to follow your dream of opening the Midnight Library bookstore?”
I shook my head, too stunned to do much else. Both of them had risked so much for this internship. And what about me? What risks had I taken? The answer was a painful none. In truth, I had run away—from Wichita, from Her, from my parents, frommyself—toward a dream I had too easily sabotaged. Because I no longer wanted it? Or because I wanted something else?
“I’ve derailed my own presentation. Most of that isn’t in there, but let me finish.” Nicole took a breath and closed her eyes as if searching for where she’d left off. Finally, she opened them, a stunning green alive with excitement. “I had this—this experience, these memories, and only by chasing one’s dreams does one truly live.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe by telling myself I was chasing my dream, I was really living, exploring a thrilling relationship, facing my past head-on, thinking about a future life I might possibly have with Her. Maybe. I would sure like to tell myself that with absolute certainty, but I had no idea who I even was anymore. But I thought I might like to know who I wouldliketo be one day—a lover, a mother, a librarian, not the wicked person Dad said I was. None of those things seemed out of the realm of possibility.
Swallowing hard, I stepped toward Nicole and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you.”
Her shoulders heaved, and she sniffed into my hair.
A cane prodded us both in the sides.
“The cane is me hugging you,” Charlotte said, her voice breaking.
I barked out a wobbly laugh, eyeing William’s approach through the fiery strands of Nicole’s hair. He’d likely heard every word, though his stony expression didn’t give him away.
“Most of that wasn’t in my presentation, but...” Nicole said. “I’m no expert on friendships, but I thought you both should know.”
“Of course we should know,” I said, releasing her.
“Nicole.”
She turned at the sound of William’s rough voice, swiping at her wet cheeks. When she saw him rounding the corner of her table, her eyes widened and her cheeks flamed. “Yes?”
He forced a business card into her hand. “This is the name and number of a guy I know. He sells furniture, and he’ll give you a good deal, if you...decide to stay.”
An exchange occurred between them, a lingering electrical one that had nothing to do with the card between their touching palms.
She quickly turned her gaze toward her short black heels and smiled. “Thank you.”
A sharp clap erupted near the front of the room.
“Places, everyone, places,” Janice called. “We start in five minutes.”
A flurry of movement waved through the roomful of interns, all of their faces pinched with sudden nerves. People were already milling outside the double doors, but I didn’t spot a particular blond head among them. Sam said he would be here, though. He was probably just held up in Friday afternoon traffic.
I stood behind my table filled with digitized and original Spanish photos and their descriptive translations, ready as I would ever be, taking in the gothic architecture and rich, musty book smell one last time. After this was done, I could really go for an evening with my good friends known as Cabernet Sauvignon and Ben & Jerry to help numb my disappointment.
Finally, the crowd drifted inside, and Janice delivered a short welcome speech into a squawking microphone. Then, senators and their wives, state representatives and their children, library staff, and the general public all listened to our presentations, or pretended to, anyway.
Between congratulatory handshakes and starting my presentation once again for a new group, I lifted onto my tiptoes to search for Sam. Where was he? The hour crawled onward, and I still didn’t see him.
But I did see Rick. He trolled through the people with a smirk fixed to his mouth and a pretty, blonde helmet-haired woman attached to his elbow. Oh my god, was that his wife?
Unease tapped down my spine. I didn’t want to meet her. Not now with fifteen minutes of presentation time to go. I would look at her all shame-faced as I stuttered through my presentation. But at the same time, I wanted to know what kind of woman could be married to a man like Rick.
His gaze caught mine, and a sudden burst of anger rushed through my body. But I refused to give him any more power over me, to let him think he’d won. I schooled my expression into one I hoped was mild boredom. He whispered something to the blonde, who flitted her gaze over me as if I was a speck on the wall before continuing her conversation with another woman. Rick then stalked toward me while he absently unbuttoned his suit jacket.
“Having fun?” he asked, his voice like a purr.
“Always.” I clasped my hands in front of me, the picture of poise and unruffled feathers. “Shall I begin?”
He grinned. “Does it really matter?”
“It matters to me.” But maybe not as much as he thought. I launched into my presentation, reciting the names and approximate dates of the people captured in the old photos from the Spanish Civil War, every detail perfect, my voice even, steady eye contact engaged. A flawless victory.
