That’s when I notice the cat.
A fluffy gray thing with a ridiculous red and white striped sweater that makes it look like a walking candy cane.It sits outside a bookshop door, one white paw raised, scratching insistently at the wood.
I pause, watching it.The sign above reads “The Winter Quill” in elegant script, fairy lights wound around the letters even in daylight.The cat meows, a plaintive, demanding sound, and scratches harder.
“Alright,” I mutter, reaching for the door handle.The bells chime as I push it open, and the cat darts inside before I can second-guess my decision to play good Samaritan.
The shop is empty but warm, smelling of old paper and ink.Bookshelves stretch toward exposed beams wrapped in garland, and a small Christmas tree sits in the corner, decorated with miniature book ornaments.Two armchairs face each other near a fireplace where fake flames flicker.
Voices drift from somewhere in the back.A woman’s soft murmur, and a man’s deeper rumble.
I should leave.The cat’s clearly made it inside, mission accomplished.But as I turn toward the door, a display table catches my eye.Books.Romance books, specifically.But not the kind Olivia hides on her subway commute.
The Modern Man’s Guide to Courtship.
Planning the Perfect Date in Ten Easy Steps.
How to Woo Your Woman Without Looking Like an Idiot.
I pick up the last one, turning it over.The back cover promises “practical advice for men who want to make their partners feel cherished without resorting to clichés.”
When’s the last time I actually dated someone?
The question sits uncomfortably in my chest.Rebecca, the lawyer.That was before everything fell apart, before the company nearly collapsed.We’d been together for a few months.Industry dinners, gallery openings, and nights that were more about physical release than emotional connection.Neither of us wanted more than that, and it worked.Until it didn’t.
When the business started failing, when I was hemorrhaging money and working twenty-hour days just to keep the lights on, I ended it.Told her I needed to focus.That I couldn’t give her the attention she deserved.It was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth.
The whole truth was Olivia.
Working alongside her those first brutal months, I’d realized what I’d been missing with Rebecca.It wasn’t just that Olivia was brilliant, though she was.It was the way she’d sit with me in the worst of moments, telling me we’d be fine.Not me—“we.”The hours she spent by my side, learning what she had to, working on all the small things I couldn’t handle.She’d make snide remarks under her breath when I was being unreasonable, then flash me that smile.The real one, not the professional mask she wears now.Back then, she was less guarded.More like how she is here in Silverbell Hollow, in her parents’ kitchen, teasing her sister and rolling her eyes at her father’s decorating obsession.
Those long nights rebuilding the company, it was her presence that made the impossible feel achievable.Her laugh when I’d say something dry and cutting.The way she’d show up with coffee and somehow know exactly when I needed to hear that we’d get through this.She made me want more than what I’d had with Rebecca.More than casual and convenient.She made me want everything.
For six years, she was off-limits.Now that Chase is out of the picture, I can’t let this chance slip out of my hands.
But what do I actually know about dating?I’ve never really worried about this before.Even a buffoon can give a nice gift.I need to charm her and have her so entangled with me that walking away becomes unbearable for her.
I pick upThe Modern Man’s Guide to Courtshipand add it to the stack.ThenRomantic Gestures That Actually Work.
“Oh, dear.”
I look up.
A young woman hobbles out from the back, one hand braced against the doorframe.She winces with each step, clearly favoring her left foot.Behind her, Chase appears, an orange tabby cradled carefully in his arms.The cat yawns before batting at Chase with its paws.
“She’ll be fine,” he’s saying, his tone pleasant.“It’s just hairballs.I’ve given her something to help with her digestive system.”He sets the cat down gently on the counter.
The woman adjusts the oversized cardigan that’s slipping off one shoulder.“Thank you so much.”
“My assistant will send you the invoice.”He reaches into his veterinary bag and pulls out a small bottle, handing it to her.“Give her half a dropper of this twice a day.It should help.”
“Thank you.”She pushes her thick-rimmed glasses back up her nose as she takes the bottle.
Then Chase looks up and sees me.His entire body goes rigid.His pale blue eyes lock onto mine.
I put the books back before he can see them and pick up a gardening book from a nearby shelf instead.Winter Gardens: A Guide to Cold-Weather Planting.
Chase’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing.He picks up his bag, his movements stiff.He heads for the door without looking at me again, the bells chiming as he steps outside.
