I have the oddest sense of satisfaction that the genre distinction matters to him, like it does to me.
“Are they not?” Paisley asks. “There’s murder and mystery.”
“They’re technically classified as thrillers,” I tell her, “but you’re not wrong.”
“Okay, cool.” She puts out her hand. “I’m Paisley, and this is my boyfriend, Hudson.”
“Friends of the author?” I ask, shaking her hand.
“You could say that.”
Hudson clears his throat. “Mr. James appreciates his privacy, so we don’t like to say much more than that.”
I have the sense I’m not the one he’s reminding.
Given the identical shades of brown in their eyes, their similar noses, and something about their smiles, I’d put money on Paisley and Dorian being related.
He closes the book and hands it back. “Thanks for coming.”
“Anyone else been here?” she asks.
“Luke and Avery stopped by at the beginning.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s a busy night, and I told all of younotto come.”
“Well, Carrie’s working.” Paisley frowns, ignoring the last thing he said. “Anyway, good job, D.M. James. I’m proud of you.”
His face softens. “Thanks, P.” He reaches to shake Hudson’s hand. “Thanks for coming, man.”
“Of course. See you at game night?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
The whole interaction is so familiar and homey, I’m hungry to know more, but I tamp that curiosity down and smother it. “I’m going to do crowd control, but let me know?—”
“Wait.”
I stop.
Dorian takes the next book and the Post-it note bearing the woman’s unique spelling she wants on the inside and begins to write. “That was my sister. Can you send her away? I’ll cover the book later. I don’t want her money. She paid enough in time.”
It’s touching. “Sure.”
He shoots me a half smile before directing his full attention to the next person, and I’m knocked off-kilter. The entire walk to the register to stop the transaction before it happens, I have to steady my breathing. But I don’t know why.
“Don’t ring her up,” I say as Natalie is scanning the book. “The author is covering this one.”
Paisley blows a raspberry. “I’m buying the book. I want to support him.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
She gives me a once-over. “Why not?”
“My job this evening is to support the author, and it’s what he wants.” Knowing they’re siblings just makes this make sense, but I’m sure Natalie thinks I’ve lost my mind. “Let him do this for you.”
Paisley considers this, then slides her card back into her wallet. “Okay.” She leans back a little, her shoulder pressing into her boyfriend’s arm as she takes me in. “Interesting.”
