‘Deal,’ Lexi says. ‘Thank you.’
If there’s one thing Lexi can do, it’s make lists. So down in her office, where she could and maybe should be doing countless other things– consulting with her accountant about the latest idea, for example, or maybe making an appointment with a therapist– she writes some lists. The problem is that when she wants something, she always wants it with her whole heart. She doesn’t know how to be any other way. And the list, as it always does, comes down to this:
Lexi Austen’s wish list:
The bookshop to be a success
A boyfriend/eventually husband
A life: time for friendships; time for hobbies (like the piano!).
Realistically, out of this list, she can only pick two at any given time. Hence her goal, what feels like a million years ago now, to go full pelt at the bookshop so she can employ a manager, delegate a lot of responsibility to them, and then, just maybe, have time for brunches and karaoke nights and– shudder– re-entering the world of DC dating.
There’s no way that’s happening in time for Erin’s wedding, but that’s okay. Lexi doesn’t reallyneeda plus-one. She’ll be busy with bridesmaid duties. Looking at her list, though, something nags at her– this idea of ‘a’ boyfriend, like any boyfriend will do, like she can pluck one out of the ether, almost at random. But what’sreallybugging her, if she’s honest, is this: she knows who she wants, and there’s nothing random about it.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Lexi’s feet, traitors that they are, also take her past Great Expectations on the way home that night. It’s after closing time, but the light’s still on: nothing unusual there; Sam often works late like she does. But as she gets closer, she sees it’s not just one man scribbling at his desk. It’s hopping in there, with people milling, glasses in hand. A soft launch of the wine bar, it seems, and a successful one at that.
She tries to look away before Sam catches her eye through the window, but it’s too late. He’s seen her, and he makes his way to the door and cracks it open. ‘Lexi!’ he calls. His face is pink and he’s more relaxed than she’s ever seen him. Clearly he’s taking testing the wine bar very seriously. ‘Join us!’
‘Oh, I...’
She can’t think of an excuse quickly enough. The combination of Lexi plus Sam plus alcohol seems like a bad idea, especially in public. Especially when she’s trying to be clear-headed about What She Really Wants, and especially when, despite her tiny victory the other day, Amanda is very much back on the scene. In fact: yep, there she is, in the corner, topping up someone’s wine glass. But none of that seems appropriate to say, and Sam looks so hopeful and happy that she can’t bring herself to disappoint him.
‘C’mon,’ he says. ‘You know what they say about all work and no play.’
Ah. Yes. Touché. That does sound a lot like her life lately.
‘Andyouknow what they say about sleeping with the enemy.’
‘No sleeping,’ he says, bumping her arm with his. ‘Just drinking. And I prefer the termrival, don’t you?’
He extends his hand and drags her in. Not much dragging required, really. Honestly, a glass of wine or two sounds like just what she needs. Especially free wine. And especially wine that’s free because it’s paid for by said rival slash enemy, cutting into his bottom line. Besides, Sam’s hand is warm and Lexi is already drunk on that; she wants to keep hold of it, even if it’s just until they get to the door. Some of these people might be journalists or bloggers, TikTokkers or just plain gossips, and she probably shouldn’t give them anything to talk about, even though part of her wants to. All publicity is good publicity, after all, right? Or is she clearly drunk already despite not having had a sip of wine?
‘Red or white?’ a familiar voice asks cheerfully as Lexi walks in. Sam has evaporated from by her side, dispersed no doubt into the adoring crowd.
‘Red please, Tessa.’
She shuffles on her feet, but to her credit, Tessa stays professional, handing her the glass with a smile that Lexi only knows to be tight because she knows her so well.
‘It’s nice to see you,’ Lexi says, making deliberate eye contact. It’s only been three weeks, but Pemberley Books feels emptier without her, and Lexi more alone in her Britishness. ‘I’m glad you’ve found something that suits you and pays better.’
Tessa visibly relaxes. Her shoulders drop into a more natural position.
‘Thanks,’ she says.
‘And you like it here?’ Lexi focuses every bit of energy on keeping a level, neutral voice.
‘I like the wine,’ she says, which tells Lexi all she needs to know.
‘Understood.’
Lexi braces herself for small talk with strangers; the wine will definitely help with that, as will the fact her face is well known around town: no painfuland what doyoudoto answer; they can just jump straight into talk of books and bookstores. Ah yes, there’s Greg from Music on the Hill, coming towards her, raising that eyebrow. Echoes ofcomplicatedfloat unvoiced between them.
‘Come to support your piano teacher?’
‘Something like that.’
