Cal sighed and pulled up Bea’s author website on his phone. For a few moments he gazed at her photograph, still stunned by her beauty although nothing compared to her actual real-life luminescence. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was searching for, a sign, perhaps, but whilst scrolling down herLatest News and Eventspage something arrested him. ‘Meet Me. Talk and Book Signing, Amour Amour Book Nook: a romance book store.’ And the date of the event was today. Cal’s blood pumped hard. The event started ten minutes ago. He googled the address on his phone. It was far away, but if he was fast, he could make it.
Cal sprinted to the nearest subway station. A couple oftrains and he would only have a block to walk to the bookstore. He peeled off his jacket. The light cotton shirt he was wearing was sticking to his back, partly from weather far warmer than Scotland and partly from nerves. A few months ago he was so at ease in Bea’s company. Now so much was at stake and he wasn’t sure she would even want to talk to him.
Chapter 58
Bea
The reading was going well. Bea hadn’t expected the bookstore to be so packed, and it was both a pleasant surprise and somewhat intimidating to see so many expectant faces waiting for her to stimulate and illuminate. But she needed to try to enjoy it; this was what she had waited and worked for all these years.
She started with a reading from her novel, which even garnered a few laughs in some places. Would she ever get used to this after working alone for so long and never knowing which parts evoked which reactions from her readers. It was fulfilling. What if she got used to it and took it for granted? No, that would never happen. Not after all this time.
As she read, Bea realised her heart was pounding, and it wasn’t the adrenaline from reading in front of an audience. It was what she was reading. Every word Gil Painter spoke, every loving gaze he gave her heroine, every embrace and every kiss was a weapon through Bea’s heart. She had read and re-read her work so many times now that she was sure any impact the words could have on her would have wornoff, but it was not so. The legacy of Cal Butler lived on and on. He simply wouldn’t leave the residence he had taken up in her being. Bea choked a little on the words as she read them. She should have chosen a different passage. But this was one of the best, it was one of the readers’ favourites; it showcased her writing well and somehow – she knew in her heart of hearts – it brought her closer to Cal. And that was why she chose to read it, even though it made her well up with emotion.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Bea hardly dared to lift her head as she spoke to the crowd. ‘This bit always chokes me up a little.’ She met the eye of some of her readers, a few of whom were weepy themselves. Others watched on with admiration. One of them – a woman in the second back row – raised her hand. Bea nodded at her as if to say, please ask your question.
‘Are you okay?’ the woman asked.
‘Oh, yes, I’m fine. I think maybe I haven’t detached myself well enough from my subject material.’
‘This is based on your own experiences?’
Bea nodded. ‘Well, some of it is. Inspired by, shall we say? With all the names changed.’
Another woman cut in. ‘Are you still with him? With Gil?’
Bea steeled herself. ‘Um, no, no I’m not.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. He sounds perfect.’
‘He kind of was. But he is a long way away now, somewhere in Scotland.’
‘I might go there and see if I can hunt him down,’ one woman joked.
Bea chuckled. ‘He stands out from all the rest. He shouldn’t be too hard to find.’
‘Certainly not, considering he’s right here.’
Bea’s gaze shot to where this deep, resonating voice had come from. It was so different from the others in the room. Scottish. Male. As she hit the location of the sound, the back of the room, her jaw lost its battle with gravity. Standing in the doorway, as devastatingly handsome as the first time she laid eyes on him, green eyes reaching out to her like daytime stars, was Cal Butler. Live in the flesh in New York City. In the exact same bookstore in which she was conducting a book reading. With an expression of such intense adoration on his face that Bea’s whole body quaked.
‘Cal?’ Bea couldn’t get out any more words.
‘Bea.’ Cal stood still like a Scottish mountain, just looking her, his ardent gaze holding such depth, so many questions, torrents of unspoken emotion.
‘What? What are you doing here, Cal?’
‘Is that him?’ Bea could hear voices in the audience whispering and rising up, wondering if what they thought was happening was really happening. Were they seeing their author’s inspiration live in the flesh?
‘I came to find you.’
‘You did? But why?’
Cal strode down the corridor between the two columns of seating. ‘Because I wanted to tell you something.’
‘Oh, Cal.’ Bea didn’t know what he was about to say, but she knew that she had to say something first. She owed him that.
‘Cal, please. You don’t have to––.’
‘Bea, I came all this way. I’ve eaten some dreadful airline food and slept about three hours. Please let me tell you what I came to say.’
