“Emery? Are you there?”
“Yes, sorry,” Emery said, shaking herself out of the memory. “What can I help you with?”
“Well, as you may know, we're readingMidnight in Mayfairfor our next meeting, another of your marvelous books, and Ithought, wouldn't it be wonderful if Emerald Pearl herself could attend?”
Emery froze, the green dress dangling from her fingers. “Attend the book club? At The Turned Page?”
“Oh heavens, no,” Mrs. Hampton said. “We've relocated back to Café Lila. Temporarily, of course. Just until… well, until things sort themselves out.”
“I don't think that's a good idea,” Emery said, dropping the dress onto her bed. “Eveline would—”
“Eveline won't be there, dear. She's made it quite clear she has no interest in our little gatherings anymore. Such a shame. She was just beginning to appreciate the genre.”
A pang shot through Emery's chest. Another consequence of her lies: Eveline had retreated from the romance books she'd just started to enjoy.
“So, what do you say?” Mrs. Hampton said. “The members would be absolutely thrilled. Especially after all the drama! Nothing sells books like a scandal, you know.”
Emery's mind was elsewhere, still stuck on the image of Eveline alone in the bookshop, having banished romance to the back corner again.
“Emery?”
“Yes,” she said absently. “Sure, I'll come.”
“Marvelous! I’ll text you the details. We'll expect a reading, of course, and perhaps some insights into your creative process. Oh, everyone will be so excited. I must call Maya immediately to order extra pastries.”
The call ended before Emery fully processed what she'd agreed to. She stared at her phone, wondering if she'd just made a terrible mistake or stumbled onto an opportunity. If the book club had relocated, that meant the Romance Book Club's tenth anniversary meeting, the catalyst for her downfall, had been their last at The Turned Page.
She thought of the shop, of how alive it had felt during those evenings, crowded with enthusiastic readers debating character motivations and plot twists. Of how Eveline had grudgingly admitted to finding merit in Emery's writing. Of how Eveline had defended romance novels with such unexpected passion.
The memory brought both pain and a flicker of something like hope. Eveline didn’t totally disbelieve in romance.
Emery glanced at the clock and cursed. She was going to be late if she didn't hurry. Grabbing the green dress, she tugged it over her head and rushed to finish getting ready.
JAX WAS ALREADY waiting at a corner table when Emery arrived at the restaurant, fifteen minutes late and slightly out of breath. The small Italian place was cozy, with checkered tablecloths and candles in wine bottles, the kind of spot where you could linger for hours over pasta and conversation.
“Sorry I'm late,” Emery said, sliding into her chair. “I got caught up in…”
“Let me guess,” Jax said, pouring Emery a glass of wine from the open bottle on the table. “Overthinking?”
“That obvious?”
“You've been my best friend for how long?” Jax raised an eyebrow. “It’s how you operate. But at least you’re back in the land of the living.”
“Thank you very much.”
“You look better,” Jax said, studying Emery's face. “Less like a zombie romance novelist and more like a living, breathing human being.”
“I feel better,” Emery said, taking a sip of wine. “Not good, exactly, but… clearer.”
“Ah, because you’re going to fight for love?” Jax's tone was teasing, but her eyes were kind.
Emery nodded, surprising herself with how certain she felt. “I have to try, Jax. I can't just let it end like this. I owe it to Eveline, to myself, to us…” She trailed off, ducking her head. “God, I sound like one of my own characters.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” said Jax. “Your characters are usually right about love in the end.” She unfolded her menu. “So what's the grand plan, then? How are you going to win back your French bookshop owner?”
Emery sighed. “That's the problem. I don't know. Everything I think of seems either too small or too ridiculous.”
“The classics are classics for a reason,” Jax said. “Flowers, chocolates, heartfelt confessions in the rain…”
