I nod, mind racing. Dark romance. Darkness calling to darkness. “Among other things. I’ve been branching out.”
“Well, if you’re heading to the bookstore anyway, you might run into one of them. They’re there all the time.”Mia says this offhandedly, unaware of how the information electrifies me. “One has this amazing book collection at home, an entire library room. Her husband is always giving her shit about it. Even though she told me all he does is play and stream brain rot games all day when he's home.”
“He sounds like a winner,” I say sarcastically, masking the surge of interest. “And your other friend?”
“She co-owns the print shop with me. She’s amazing, completely independent, takes no shit from anyone.” Mia gestures with her wineglass. “You’d like her.”
Mia purposely leaving out their names. I know it’s because she wants me to come check out her business.
I make an appropriately interested noise, but my mind is elsewhere. Cataloging the new information. The dark romance reader. Married to an asshole who streams video games. Does he use GameStream? I’ll need to check our user database. A library room full of books. Bookstore on Sunset Boulevard.
“What about you?” I ask, redirecting. “Still reading those self-help books?”
Mia groans, rolling her eyes. “Don’t make fun. They’ve helped me a lot.”
“I’m not making fun,” I say sincerely. “They’ve helped you be more self-awareness, to grow and succeed. That’s what matters.”
She studies me suspiciously, then relaxes when she sees I’m not mocking her. “Yeah, well, not everyone can read dense Russian literature for fun like you.”
“Dostoevsky understood the human condition better than most modern writers,” I shrug, finishing my wine. “Crime and Punishment is essentially the original psychological thriller.”
“If you say so, Professor Literature,” she teases, checking her watch. “I should probably head out soon. Early day tomorrow.”
I nod, standing to clear our plates. “Thanks for helping me unpack. And for the pizza.”
“That’s what sisters are for.” She rises, gathering her purse and keys. “Think about what I said, okay? About stopping by the shop. No pressure, but it would be nice to introduce you to the important people in my life.”
“I will,” I promise.
At the door, Mia hugs me tightly. “I’m glad you’re home, Tony. For however long it lasts.”
I return the embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “Me too,”
After she leaves, I stand at the sliding glass door, taking in my the view of my new home. I wonder about the unnamed woman and can’t answer my own questions. Why is this person so fascinating to me when I know nothing about her? Not a name, a face, anything.
I turn back to the half-unpacked living room, my eyes falling on my laptop bag. There’s research to be done now. GameStream users nearby to find. A bookstore on Sunset Boulevard to visit.
4
Lila
The bookstore sits likea beacon at the end of Sunset Boulevard, its windows glowing with warm light against the early evening shadows. I pull into the parking lot, my heart already lifting at the thought of losing myself among the shelves. It’s my sanctuary, the one place where Eli’s voice doesn’t follow me, where I can breathe without feeling his eyes tracking every expansion of my lungs. I grab my purse and practically skip to the entrance, the smell of paper and possibility greeting me as I step inside.
The bell above the door jingles, announcing my arrival, but no one looks up. That’s what I love about this place. Everyone is too absorbed in their own literary worlds to care who comes or goes. I nod to the older woman behind the counter, a silent greeting we’ve exchanged dozens of times, and make a beeline for the romance section in the back corner of the store.
My hands tremble with excitement as I scan the new releases, running a fingertip down their spines. And there it is, the book I’ve been waiting for, its cover adorned with dark colors and the silhouette of a man. The latest from my favorite author. I clutch it to my chest like it’s a precious artifact, already imagining the hours I’ll spend curled in my library, lost in someone else’s love story.
But one book isn’t enough. Who knows when I’ll be able to visit again? I need a stockpile, a fortress of fiction, to shield me from the silence of the house. I move methodically through the shelves, pulling out anything that catches my eye, a historical romance with a defiant-looking woman on the cover, a paranormal love story with a wolf-man whose eyes seem to follow me. My collection grows in my arms. Each book another night, I won’t have to think about my own life.
“Those are some good choices.”
The deep voice startles me so badly I nearly drop my precious stack. I turn, finding myself face to face with a man I’ve never seen before. He’s tall, taller than Eli, with broad shoulders encased in worn leather. A motorcycle jacket, heavy boots, dark riding leather pants. His helmet dangles from one hand while the other holds a small stack of books.
I stare at him, unsure how to respond to a stranger starting a conversation. This doesn’t happen to me. I’m not conventionally attractive at all. I’m the weird redhead girl.
“You’re gorgeous, by the way,” he adds, his eyes, a striking hazel I can see even in the dim corner lighting, fixed on mine.
My breath catches. Is he talking to me? I look around, certain there must be someone else, someone who actuallydeserves that word. But there’s only the empty aisle and shelves of romance novels witnessing my confusion.
