“Now I know you've lost your mind. You can't just hand off your pen name to someone else like it's a used car. And even if you could, is that really the solution? Living a lie forever?”
“It's not a lie,” Emery said weakly. “I am Emery Parker. That's my real name. Emerald Pearl is just… a part of me I haven't shared yet.”
“A pretty significant part,” Jax pointed out. “Your career? Your passion? The thing that pays your bills?”
Emery sighed. “Every time I try to tell her, something happens. The moment never seems right.”
“That's a weak excuse and you know it.” Jax reached across the table to take Emery's hand. “Look, I get it. You're scared. But the longer you wait, the worse it's going to be when she finds out. And she will find out, Em. Secrets like this always come to light.”
“I'm not just scared,” Emery said. “I'm terrified. You didn't see her face when she talked about her ex-husband, how he stole her stories. If she thinks I've been using her for material…”
“Are you using her for material?” Jax asked, her expression suddenly serious.
“No!” Emery said immediately, then hesitated. “I mean, yes, she inspired me. She broke my writer's block. There's definitely elements of her in my new book. But that's not why I'm with her. That's not why I…” She trailed off.
“Why you what?” Jax prompted.
Emery took a deep breath. “Why I love her.”
Jax's expression softened. “Oh, dear.”
“I know it's too soon to say that,” Emery said. “We've only known each other for a few weeks. But I've never felt like this before, Jax. Never. And the thought of losing her…”
“Which is exactly why you need to tell her the truth,” Jax said. “If you really love her, she deserves to know who you are. All of you.”
Emery nodded, blinking back unexpected tears. “You're right. I'll tell her today.”
“Promise?” Jax asked.
“I promise,” Emery said. “No more excuses.”
They parted with a hug, and Emery checked her watch. Still time before she needed to be at the shop. Time to walk and gather her thoughts, to figure out exactly what she would say to Eveline.
How did you tell someone that you'd been lying to them since the day you met? That you were, in fact, the author whose work they had once denounced? That you'd written a book inspired by them without their knowledge?
By the time she turned onto the street where The Turned Page stood, her palms were sweaty and her heart was racing. She was going to do this. She had to.
???
Eveline was arranging a new window display when a sharp knock on the shop door startled her. She glanced at her watch with a frown. Still fifteen minutes until opening time.
The knocking came again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, she set down the book she'd been placing and moved to the door.
But when she saw who stood on the other side of the glass, the words died in her throat.
He looked much the same as he had when she'd left Paris. Handsome in that carefully cultivated way of his, with styleddark hair streaked with silver at the temples and the same dark green eyes that had once charmed her so completely.
Charles.
For a moment, Eveline contemplated pretending she hadn't seen him. But he’d already spotted her, his face breaking into that familiar smile that now made her skin crawl.
Reluctantly, she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to speak.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Eveline,” he said, her name sounding wrong in his mouth after all these years. “You look wonderful.”
“What do you want, Charles?” she repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the sudden racing of her heart. She spoke English with him, like it would help her stay detached, help remind her that they weren’t the same anymore.
