I feel the same,she typed back, meaning it with every fiber of her being.
Good. I won’t say the words yet. But know I feel them.
Emery leaned against a lamppost, suddenly dizzy with guilt. Maya's story echoed in her mind, the disappointment on Billy's face, worse than anger. Would Eveline look at her that way, too?
Tomorrow?Eveline texted.
Of course,Emery replied automatically.
Perfect. Goodnight, ma chérie.
Goodnight,Emery sent back, then slipped her phone into her pocket with trembling fingers.
Back in her flat, she couldn't settle. She paced, made tea she didn't drink, opened her laptop to write but stared at a blank screen. The memory of Charles's book haunted her.
“I'm not like him,” Emery said aloud to her empty flat. “What I feel for Eveline is real.”
But then, hadn't Charles probably convinced himself of the same thing? That his actions were justified, that his art was more important than the trust he'd broken?
Finally, exhausted, she collapsed into bed, but she couldn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling, watching shadows from passing cars slide across it.
“I have to tell her,” she whispered to the empty room. But what if Eveline couldn't forgive her? What if this beautiful, unexpected thing between them shattered the moment the truth came out?
Emery rolled onto her side, curling around her pillow. The alternative, continuing to live the lie, had become unthinkable. She loved Eveline too much to keep deceiving her.
She had to do the right thing. And she had to do it soon.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emery arrived at the bookshop on Friday morning to find Zara practically bouncing with excitement, her phone clutched in her hand as she darted between shelves. The shop was quiet, with only Abe in his usual spot by the window, but Zara's energy filled the space like a caffeinated hummingbird.
“There you are!” Zara said, rushing over. “You won't believe what's happened. It's absolutely brilliant!”
Emery set down her coffee travel mug, already sensing trouble brewing. Zara's enthusiasm usually meant social media was involved, which lately had been a source of constant anxiety. She wasn’t a social media kind of person and avoided it as much as possible. But it was looking more and more like she was going to have to go online to keep up with what was happening in her world. “What's happened?”
“The Romance Book Club poll results!” Zara thrust her phone into Emery's face, displaying a colorful pie chart. “I ran it onour Insta last night, and the votes are in. We're reading another Emerald Pearl book for our next meeting!”
Emery's stomach dropped. “Another one?” she squeaked.
“The Woman Without a Past,” Zara said, scrolling to show Emery the cover image. “It's one of her earlier works, but the timing is perfect because there are rumors she might be making an appearance at a London bookshop soon. Isn't that amazing?”
Emery took a deep breath, feeling slightly faint. “Rumors? What rumors?”
“It's all over BookBuzz,” Zara said. “Someone spotted a listing for an Emerald Pearl signing at Harrington's next month. They haven't officially announced it yet, but my friend works there and said it's definitely happening.”
Domi. It had to be Domi who'd set this up. Emery vaguely remembered agreeing to another signing during their recent meeting, but she'd been so distracted by everything with Eveline that the details had slipped her mind completely. She felt like she was slowly losing control of her life.
“That's… wow,” Emery managed. “What a coincidence.”
“I know,” Zara beamed. “I've already ordered extra copies for the shop. We'll need them anyway if she's signing nearby, there's always tons of spillover sales.”
Emery nodded weakly, trying to look appropriately enthusiastic while internally calculating how many excuses she'd need to come up with to get through the next few weeks without her secret being discovered. An unsustainable amount, that was the only answer. Which meant she had a deadline now. Maybe that was for the best. One more weekend, a perfect weekend, with Eveline, and then she’d spill the beans and let the chips fall where they may. Was that too many mixed metaphors?
“Is everything alright?” Eveline's voice came from behind her. “You look pale.”
Emery turned to find Eveline watching her, a stack of poetry books in her arms. After their text exchange last night, Emery had expected things to feel different between them this morning, maybe awkward or intensely charged or something. Instead, there was the familiar comfortable warmth she felt every time she saw Eveline, which somehow made Emery's guilt even heavier.
“I'm fine,” Emery said quickly. “Just, um, not enough coffee yet.”
