“She's just excited about the Romance Book Club news,” Zara said. “We're reading Emerald Pearl'sThe Woman Without a Pastnext, and Pearl herself might be doing a signing nearby soon.”
Eveline raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“It's not really confirmed yet,” Emery said hastily, wondering if she could get out of it. “Just rumors.”
“Well, confirmed or not, the club has voted,” Zara said, tucking her phone away. “I need to update our social media with the announcement. This is going to bring in so many new customers!”
As Zara bustled off to the back room, Eveline moved closer to Emery, setting the poetry books on the counter.
“You don't seem particularly thrilled about this development,” she observed.
Emery took a desperate sip of her now-lukewarm coffee. “No, it's great. Really. I'm just… surprised, that's all. Two Emerald Pearl books back-to-back seem like a lot.”
“Perhaps,” Eveline said, her lips curving into a small smile. “But since the woman is almost single-handedly responsible for my coming to terms with romance novels, I can hardly complain, can I?”
The memory of Eveline standing up for her work, for her words, sent a fresh wave of guilt through Emery. “No, I guess not,” she said.
Eveline studied her for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Well, I've certainly read worse. And you seemed to enjoy the last one.”
“Right,” Emery said weakly. “I did.”
The shop bell jingled, announcing a new arrival, and Emery turned gratefully toward the distraction, only to freeze when she saw who it was.
The man standing in the doorway could only be Charles. She recognized him from his book. He wore an expensive-looking overcoat and carried a leather messenger bag emblazoned with his initials.
She felt Eveline stiffen beside her.
“Charles,” Eveline said. “Twice in two days. How unexpected.”
He smiled, and Emery gritted her teeth. There was something too practiced about the expression, too deliberately charming.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he said. “Thought I'd browse your collection. You always did have excellent taste in books, if not in men.”
Emery bristled at this.
“Feel free to look around,” Eveline said coolly. “Emery, would you mind helping that customer in the history section?”
Emery hesitated, reluctant to leave Eveline alone with him, but nodded. “Of course.”
As she moved away, she heard Charles say, “I've been thinking about our conversation last night.”
Emery tried to focus on helping the customer find a biography of Churchill, but her attention kept drifting back to where Charles and Eveline stood near the poetry section, their voicestoo low to overhear. Whatever he was saying, Eveline's posture remained stiff, her arms crossed defensively across her chest.
A strange, protective anger bubbled up inside Emery. Who did this man think he was, waltzing in here after everything he'd done to Eveline? The hypocrisy of her own indignation wasn't lost on her, but she pushed the thought aside. This was different. Charles had deliberately hurt Eveline. Emery's deception had never been intended to cause pain.
But then, would that distinction matter to Eveline when the truth came out?
After what felt like an eternity, Charles finally left, pausing at the door to say something that made Eveline shake her head sharply. The bell jingled again as the door closed behind him.
Emery hurried back to the counter. “Are you alright?”
Eveline exhaled slowly. “I'm fine. He just gets under my skin.”
“What did he want?” Emery asked, fighting the urge to take Eveline's hand in front of customers.
“Heaven knows, he hasn’t worked up the courage to tell me yet,” Eveline said. “He claims he wants to reconnect, to see if we can at least be cordial to each other. As if the past never happened.”
“And you don’t believe him?” Emery asked carefully.
