“This isn’t funny!” I yell half-heartedly as my own laughter bubbles over. This town. “Also, to clarify, we almost kissed. There was no actual kiss.”
“Gladys won’t believe you. But still, Ivy girl,” Luke says as he wipes a dollop of chocolate from the side of his face with one of the crinkled napkins from the to-go bag, “this town loves you. And we’re just looking out for you.”
“I know.” I sink against the counter, already exhausted from the mental hoops I’ve had to jump through this morning after seeing Jace show up at the farm on his own with a tool belt, dressed in jeans and flannel. Now, hearing from some of my favorite people in the world that nothing is sacred or private in my life. Well, nothing externally, that is. No one will ever know, except Jace and me, the effect his presence has on me and the warmth that passed between us the other night when he held me. The feeling was like remembering a dream, only to realize that the real-life experience was so much better. I clear my throat.
“We’ll come back to that later. Or maybe not.” I shrug. “I don’t think I want to know what our fellow townspeople think about Jace. He’s not as grumpy as he first appears, let me just say that. And you—” I turn to Grey, who’s back to stocking books, the lens of her glasses smudged from fidgeting with them, no doubt. “Why would you send Jace out there on his own?”
Grey gives me a look, and I understand it perfectly, proving our extensive history and lack of need to articulate our feelings out of anything but courtesy.
“Ok, okay,” I mutter, sinking onto a step stool that’s been in her family for generations. Her mother and father carved their initials into it, and so did her grandparents before her. Maybe one day, Grey will have hers and Boston’s engraved. She’s not ready to hear that right now, though.
The phone behind the counter rings, reverberating off pages and bookshelves. Because it’s the adorable shop that it is, they still have a landline with a version of the telephone that most people wouldn’t have seen since the nineties. Luke answers and begins to discuss a book on the history of Birch Borough with a potential customer. Grabbing a stack of books to help her restock, I move closer to Grey, needing her steadiness and courage.
“Grey,” I say quietly, “does your mom have anything to say on a situation like this?” It’s hard to ask, but I need more wisdom than I’ve found to date. I need motherly wisdom like “Find yourself a Mr. Rochester” for Jane Eyre. Or “There’s always a cost to creativity” for Frankenstein. My favorite quote that Grey has found so far is the one she discovered in Pride and Prejudice, which reads, “Never trust a man named George.” It’s especially funny, given the inside joke between Graham and Lily. When we were younger, we’d walk to Dove’s Donuts every time we found a new note from Marlee. We’d sit at the countertop and try to think of all the ways the wisdom could apply to our lives.
While we stopped going to get donuts after I left for the ballet company, some things have remained the same. There’s a certain belief we’ve held toward the books. It’s like they’ve each been sent at the right time to guide Grey through her life because her mother can’t. Each note is a glimpse of something that was sent back in time to help move her forward.
“Hmm,” Grey hums as she sets a few books on their proper shelves and in their proper order. She turns to face me, contemplating, deeply thinking it through. During the pause, I think of how lucky I am to have a friend like her. Grey feels like my family.
She breaks the silence. “Normally, I would say let’s go on a hunt to find out what my lovely mother would’ve written about this situation, and I would be right.”
Luke hangs up the phone and disappears to the back office, humming. Grey resumes her regular place at the familiar spot behind the counter, the lift of her posture and the tilt of her head as memorable to me as any other moment I could picture my best friend. If she were a painting, this would be the pose the artist chose, the scene complete with a book in her hand, a Post-it peeking out from the pages with a note inscribed by her mother.
“But,” she continues, “I think that this bit of advice is going to come from me. Ivy, you’re my best friend, and I love you like a sister. But a part of you has been hollow since Jace didn’t show.”
I want to retort, but she gives me a knowing grin to let me know she’s not finished. She knows the reasons he couldn’t make it. I told her as soon as I found out.
“It’s like you met him, and he made such an imprint that no one has ever been able to fill it. The idea of his love was so strong that it woke a part of you that you didn’t even know you had. You’ve been missing that warmth ever since.”
I nod, wanting her to continue.
“And now he’s here.” She lifts the book she’s holding to cradle it near her heart, letting the courage of a relic from her mother seep into her bones.“Is he the same as he was? Not quite. A lot of life has happened for both of you. But I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t tell you that I think you should set the past aside and try again with this guy.”
My eyes widen with surprise that my bookish friend, who typically errs on the side of caution with her heart, is encouraging me to trust it with Jace.
“Now, whether he lets you try is another question. But he’s got a little girl. Another person to give yourself and your love to. And I think you have more love in you to give than you even realize. What are you so afraid of?”
I twitch my nose to hold back the emotion. It doesn’t work, but it’s worth a shot. Everything she’s just said rings true, and her confidence is the reminder I need to find my own again.
“I just want to be held, Grey. For good.” I speak to the air that smells like books and memories. “I’m so tired of feeling like I’m falling through people’s hands.” Finally, I sniffle, using the heel of my hand to catch a stray tear.
Grey leans over the counter toward me, her vintage dress softening the movement.
And because Grey has the dearest heart I’ve ever known, she doesn’t question my reasoning or my thoughts; she just lets me speak. I know she feels lonely too. It goes beyond friendship or family in the quiet moments; it’s the feeling after night creeps in, a call in your heart, a wish to have a partner. We both long to have someone to check on us during the fears and the joys of life, someone who will speak life over our tired hearts at the end of a long day, someone who chooses to make us an important part of his life.
Grey grabs my hand, and I force a grin to reassure her that I’m okay. “You know, this just solidifies it,” she says. “Enjoy the time you have with the man who’s haunted your heart from the start. Even if it’s hard.” She sighs. “Oh, my friend, don’t give up on him. Sometimes, people just need time to find the healing they need. And needing time doesn’t mean they don’t love you or want you less. Sometimes, it means they want you so much they don’t know how to handle their feelings yet.”
My eyes widen when she gives a knowing smile, continuing with, “For the record, I don’t think he’s as grumpy as people say he is. I just think he’s afraid, like Beast.”
I let her words soak through my frame. I’m reminded of snow days long past, spent at each other’s homes with cookies and books surrounding us while Beauty and the Beast played in the background.
“And you’re afraid too. But maybe just this once, forget the fear?”
Despite the validity of Grey’s advice, I’m not sure I can forget the fear. Not when there’s so much at stake. But I can choose to enjoy the moment. My eyes drift to the clock, and I startle at the late hour. Grey may have finagled my morning to give me extra time to rest, but it’s time for me to get to my studio to move my body. I’ll rehearse there as I can only do when I’m completely on my own. Then it’ll be time for afternoon rehearsal, and I’ll teach for the rest of the evening. I’m not sure I’m ready to leave this cozy bookshop, though. Wistfully, I look out the window toward Main Street, my eyes drifting past the Christmas tree made of books and the garland on display. Snow falls lightly outside.
I need to leave, but suddenly, I’m distracted by the maple wood table the book tree is sitting on. I don’t remember seeing it a few days ago, but it adds height and a warmth to the display in a way that seems intentional. There is a clock etched into the side. When I bend to peek at it, the clock on the wall chimes. And as if by Christmas magic, Jace walks into view, his steps heading in the direction of the boxing studio. He sees me in the window a second after I see him. He stops and makes eye contact as a soft grin takes over his face. Arm lifting, he taps the watch on his wrist. I see an athletic bag draped over his shoulder; no doubt he is headed to In the Ring for a training session. Understanding, I nod, feeling a sense of disappointment that there isn’t time to run out to say hello. But his apologetic shrug and the way he resumes walking only to take a step backward just to look into my eyes again give me the boost I need for the rest of this day. I’m not sure what’s unfolding between us this time around, but I want to find out.
Motioning with my hand, I indicate that he should keep moving. At my smile, he nods and waves. I think he’s going to keep walking, but suddenly, he spins on his heel and walkstoward the bookshop, his expression startlingly open and light. He draws a piece of paper from the pocket of his coat and motions to the door. Leaving Grey staring after me at the counter, I rush to it. The cold air hits my face and almost makes me screech as I yank it open. I step outside and draw the door shut behind me, the bell on it jingling.
