Emery's expression changed instantly from nervous to concerned. “Your ex? Here in London?”
Eveline nodded. “He was just here. In the shop. He wants to 'make amends,'” she said, making air quotes with her fingers.
“Are you okay?” Emery asked, putting her arms around Eveline.
The embrace was so natural, so comforting, that Eveline felt her tension begin to dissolve. “I'm fine,” she said, resting her head on Emery's shoulder. “Just shocked. I didn’t expect to see him again.”
“What did he want?” Emery asked.
“To apologize, supposedly.” Eveline pulled back slightly. “I, um, agreed to have dinner with him tonight.”
Emery's eyebrows shot up. “Dinner? With the guy who stole your stories?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” Eveline said. “But I think I need this. Closure, maybe. To show him that he doesn't have any powerover me anymore.” She hesitated. She hadn’t thought to ask. “You don't mind, do you?”
“Mind?” Emery shook her head. “It's not for me to mind. I just want to make sure you're okay.” Her expression grew serious. “Do you want me to come with you? I could sit at another table, maybe wear a fake mustache and dark glasses…”
Eveline laughed. “As entertaining as that would be, I think I need to do this alone.” She touched Emery's cheek. “But thank you for offering.” She stroked Emery’s cheekbone with her thumb. “What did you need to talk to me about?”
Emery hesitated, something flashing across her face too quickly for Eveline to interpret. “Nothing important,” she said finally. “It can wait.”
“Sure?”
“Positive,” Emery said. “You’ve got bigger things to be dealing with today.”
“You are what the English like to call a breath of fresh air,” Eveline said, pulling Emery a little closer. “Not jealous, not over-protective, and here I am building defenses just for you to come and crash right through them.”
“Do I do that?” Emery said.
“In amongst crashing into plenty of other things,” Eveline grinned. “And I’ve got nothing to fear from Charles, not when you’re around anyway.”
Emery said nothing to this, just pulled Eveline back into her arms until the shop door rattled and Zara started banging on it, demanding to know why they weren’t open yet.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emery sat alone in the bookshop after closing time, fingers drumming restlessly on the counter. Eveline had left twenty minutes ago for her dinner with Charles, wearing a sleek black dress that had momentarily made Emery forget how to breathe. Now the silence of the empty shop pressed in around her, heavy with all the words she'd failed to say. Ten more minutes and she could close the shop.
The bell above the door jangled, making her jump.
“We're closing,” she called out automatically.
“Only to paying customers,” Maya said cheerfully, pushing through the door with a pink bakery box balanced in one hand. “For friends bearing cake, the doors are always open.”
Emery smiled. “I was just about to lock up.”
“Perfect timing then.” Maya set the box on the counter and glanced around. “Where's our elegant French proprietress this evening?”
“Dinner,” Emery said, trying to keep her tone neutral. “With her ex-husband.”
Maya's eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Charles? The story-stealer? That ex-husband?”
Emery nodded, not surprised that Maya knew the details.
“Well,” Maya said, opening the box to reveal an array of delicate pastries, “I'd say that calls for tea and emergency sugar. Sit down, dear. I'll put the kettle on.”
Before Emery could protest, Maya had bustled into the back room. She returned minutes later with two steaming mugs and settled into the chair opposite Emery, pushing a plate with a cream-filled pastry toward her.
“Eat,” she said. “Sugar helps with emotional crises.”
