“Yes, she should have,” Abe said. “But we all make mistakes, my dear. The question is whether the mistake outweighs everything else.”
Eveline was silent, unwilling to examine what 'everything else' might involve.
“If you're prepared to let Emery walk away,” Abe said, his voice suddenly harder, “then I'm disappointed in you. You've learned nothing about love.”
“This isn't about love,” Eveline said.
“And now who’s lying?” Abe set down his teacup with a sharp clink. “Love is there whether you want it or not, whether you believe in it or not, whether it's said or not. It doesn't wait for perfect circumstances or perfect people.”
Eveline bit her lip but said nothing.
“I've lived long enough to know that genuine connections are rare,” Abe said. “When Agnes died, do you know what I regretted most? Not the arguments we had, not the mistakes we made, but the times I let pride stand in the way of reconciliation. The days wasted in anger that could have been spent in joy.”
He reached for her hand, his papery skin cool against hers. “Don't make my mistakes, Eveline. Life is too short to let the fear of being hurt keep you from the possibility of being happy.”
THE MORNING PASSED in a blur after Abe left. Eveline moved through her tasks mechanically, his words echoing in her mind. When the shop emptied during the afternoon lull, she found herself drifting toward the back corner where she'd relegated the romance section.
Almost against her will, she pulled a familiar volume from the shelf.The Woman Without a Pastby Emerald Pearl. By Emery.
She opened it, running her fingers over the words, imagining Emery writing them. Had she been thinking of Eveline even then, before they'd met, or someone like her?
The questions swirled in her mind as she flipped through the pages, eventually coming to rest on a passage Emery had read in book club, about a woman afraid to trust again after betrayal.
“The past had taught her caution, but caution had become a prison of her own making. Safety meant isolation, and isolation meant never feeling the pain of loss, but it also meant never feeling the warmth of love.”
Tears blurred her vision, one dropping onto the page before she could catch it. She wiped it away hastily, but the damage was done, a small, imperfect circle distorting the words beneath.
“Eveline?” Zara's voice came from behind her. “Are you alright?”
Eveline hastily closed the book, but it was too late. Zara had seen her tears.
“I'm fine,” she said, trying to slide the book back onto the shelf, but her hands were shaking too badly.
Zara gently took the book from her. “It's okay to miss her, you know.”
“I don't miss her,” Eveline said automatically. “I'm angry with her.”
“You can be both,” Zara said. “Maybe what hurt most wasn't the deception itself, but the fear that what you felt wasn't real.”
Eveline stared at her. “The deception was real,” she said finally.
“Yes, it was,” Zara agreed. “But does that mean the feelings weren't?” She placed the book back on the shelf. “Not everything is black and white, Eveline. People make mistakes for complicated reasons. That doesn't invalidate everything else.”
As Zara walked away, Eveline remained rooted to the spot, her words settling like stones in still water, sending ripples through everything Eveline had told herself over the past weeks.
Was she letting past hurts dictate her present? Was she so afraid of being betrayed again that she was refusing to see the differences between what Charles had done and what Emery had done? Was she being old and stubborn and stupid?
The realization crystalized as she stood there, surrounded by stories of love and redemption and romance. She needed to confront her past before she could face her future.
THAT EVENING, AFTER closing the shop, Eveline found herself standing in the elegant lobby of The Savoy. She'd called ahead, ensuring Charles would be there, and now she clutched his publisher's contract in her handbag, her decision made.
He met her in the hotel bar, looking pleased and slightly smug as he ordered champagne without asking if she wanted any.
“I knew you'd come around,” he said, gesturing to her bag. “You've always been practical, beneath that passionate exterior.”
Eveline said nothing, waiting until the champagne was poured and they were alone again.
“I'd like to sign the contract,” she said, pulling it from her bag and setting it on the table between them.
