‘Plus he’s really fit,’ I sighed, giving the tall, dark haired illustration of Eric on my cover the filthiest look I could muster.
‘It does help sell the package. More intelligent women than you or I have been taken in by a pretty face and a pair of strong arms. And a very nice backside. And—’
‘All right, you’ve made the point. Hot, charming, not my fault.’
‘Even if it feels like it is.’
She took my hand, turned it over and placed the Sharpie in my bandaged palm.
‘What’s this?’ I asked as she pulled off the lid. ‘I’ve got the message, you don’t need to write a warning on the back of my hands, I’m not going to call him.’
‘No, you’re going to sign my book.’ She openedButterfliesto the title page and drew a thick black line through the name ‘Este Cox’. ‘After that, I’m going to get your dad and your sister and we’re going to order a pizza and you’re going to tell us the whole story, starting from when you very first had the idea to where we are now and you’re not going to leave out a single word. Deal?’
‘We both know I will do anything for pizza.’
I scrawled my signature under the crossed-out name and stared at the page.
‘What’s wrong?’ Mum asked. ‘Please tell me you didn’t spell my name wrong.’
‘This is the first book I’ve signed,’ I said, slightly stunned.
‘The very first signed first edition ofButterflies,’ she said with the greatest reverence. ‘If you add the date, this should see me and your dad through our retirement. And for the record, I never said you shouldn’t call him. There could be more to the story than you know.’
‘He’s going on the DNF pile,’ I told her, shaking all thoughts of Joe Walsh out of my head. ‘I can live without his unnecessary exposition. He isn’t a morally grey hero, he’s an arse.’
She pulled me into a hug and, over her shoulder, I saw my phone light up on the arm of the chair. Same number, calling again. But this time when the screen faded back to black and my heart sank, there was a little lifeboat there to catch it before it hit rock bottom, and I smiled against the tears that fell anyway.
‘That cut needs some antiseptic, I think it’s deeper than it looks.’ She broke the hug and took my injured hand in hers, softening her grasp when she saw mytears. ‘But it’ll heal,’ she promised, wiping them away one at a time. ‘Given time.’
‘I know,’ I said, blinking my eyes dry. ‘And I’ve got all the time in the world.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
Three months later …
‘Are you ready?’ Charlotte asked, slipping into the stockroom and securely closing the door behind her.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘I want to cancel the whole thing.’
‘I’d kill you and do the event wearing your skin like a Snuggie.’
‘You’re truly terrifying, you know that, don’t you?’ I told her, a chocolate Hobnob frozen halfway to my mouth as she folded herself into a deep and elegant bow.
‘It’s a full house, we’ve sold every copy ofButterflies.’
My mouth dried out and I traded my Hobnob for a swig of Diet Coke.
‘Oh good. Exactly what I’d hoped for.’
She poked through an open box of chocolates on the table and helped herself to a nut truffle. ‘William set up a screen outside for the overspill and anyone who misses the livestream can watch the replay. For a fee.’
‘You’re going to be a billionaire,’ I told her with amixture of admiration and genuine fear. ‘Please spare me when they put you in charge of the entire universe.’
World domination looked good on my little sister. Her emerald green jumpsuit made her newly platinum hair shine and if I ever found the confidence to wear bright red lipstick out in public rather than in the comfort of my own home, I hoped it would look as good on me as it did Charlotte. In the three months since Charlotte’s Bookshop opened, she’d already established herself not only as a destination store, hosting events with every kind of author, but as an authority on the industry, appearing all over international media and even deigning to do a radio interview after Mum explained it was very much the same as a live podcast for older people. In their own way, I was sureWoman’s Hourtook it as a compliment.
She pulled out the card from the enormous bunch of flowers on the table and scanned the short but sweet message.Congrats on your first event. Don’t fuck it up xxx.
‘These from Mal?’ she guessed.
