She hurried off, umbrella bobbing.
As soon as she was out of earshot, I turned to Anna. “I think you just saved my life.”
She quickly dropped her arm, cheeks flushed, though it could’ve just been the humidity. “Geez, you weren’t kidding about the whole getting-recognized thing. But I’ve got just the spot to lie low for a bit. I’m going to take you where William Faulkner wrote his first novel. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
She led the way, and we dashed through the rain. Faulkner House Books offered the perfect escape. I let myself relax as we hid in the stacks.
At one point, she picked up a vintage copy ofThe Sound and the Fury. “Confession time,” she said, sheepishly. “I’ve never actually read Faulkner.”
“Seriously?” I was genuinely surprised. “Faulkner’s work is profound. I got into it in college.”
She grabbed another book and held it up for me to see.A Confederacy of Dunces. “How’d you like this one?”
I shook my head. “Never read it.”
Her eyes lit up. “Not reading this while you’re in New Orleans is practically a crime. I’ll get it for you. Once you’ve finished, we’re having a book chat. Oh, and here’s your wig. Sorry, it’s not dry, but it’s the best I can do.”
She pulled the wig from her bag and leaned in to help me adjust it.
Our hands brushed, and I froze, caught off guard by the unexpected spark that shot through me.
My fingers lingered on hers a moment too long, and before I could stop myself, I glanced down at her. “Today has been… fun.”
Her eyes lifted to meet mine, wide and searching, and for a second, the world fell completely still. The faint scent of jasmine clung to her, mingling with the musty aroma of old books, and the quiet hum of the bookstore wrapped around us, cocooning the moment.
Then, just as the silence began to crackle with unspoken tension, it shattered.
“Need any help?” The clerk’s overly cheerful voice cut through the tension, making both of us jump. I stepped back so quickly that I nearly tripped over a stack of hardcovers, clearing my throat like I’d inhaled a whole library’s worth of dust. Anna turned away, her cheeks pink and her hands fumbling with the book she’d been holding.
She raisedA Confederacy of Dunceslike a shield. “Just this,” she blurted, her voice a touch too high-pitched as she bolted for the counter.
The moment we stepped outside, the humid air wrapped around us like a sticky blanket. But before we could take another step, a voice sliced through the air, pointed and dripping with familiarity.
“Well, isn’t this unexpected?”
Anna froze mid-stride, and I nearly walked into her. Her whole posture changed. Her back was straight, her shoulders stiff, like a soldier preparing for battle. My gaze flicked toward the source of the voice: two women lounging at a table in the courtyard, their eyes locked on her like a pair of smug cats who’d cornered their prey.
The blonde, her smile as polished and fake as a plastic tiara, tilted her head. “Anna Amato, what an absolute delight.” She nudged her companion, a brunette with a matching smirk. “Reagan, isn’t this a treat?”
Anna stood her ground, but the faint flush on her cheeks gave her away. I could feel the tension rippling off her, sharp enough to cut through the humid air.
This was no casual run-in.
Reagan leaned forward, her voice syrupy sweet. “Anna, it’s been forever. What are you up to these days?”
Anna squared her shoulders, her tone steady but tinged with defiance. “I’m a writer.”
Reagan’s brows shot up in mock surprise, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “A writer? Huh. I thought you were waitressing.” She laughed lightly, as though she’d just made the funniest joke of the evening.
Anna’s jaw tightened, but her voice didn’t waver. “Well, I do work as a waitress, but I’m also working on a novel.”
The blonde cut in, her tone a shade too cheerful. “That’s so… creative. I mean, it’s good to have hobbies, right?”
Reagan chuckled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Speaking of hobbies, Beau and I are house hunting. We’re back in town for a bit, getting everything ready for the big move. You know, after the wedding.”
Anna’s expression didn’t flicker, but I caught the subtle way her hand clenched at her side. “When are you and Beau moving back?” Her voice was calm and polite, a masterclass in restraint.
“Oh, Beau’s already staying with his parents,” Reagan replied, flashing a dazzling smile. “After the wedding, he’s taking over his father’s business. I’ll officially be leaving Manhattan in a couple of months to join him here. You must be so happy for us, Anna. Beau always said you had such a generous heart.”
