“Oh?” I laugh. “How did you like it?”
“I brought it with me. It’s in the car. Can I sit in your pool with you so we can talk about it? I need to talk about it.”
I glance at Dahlia, whose brows are raised, a radiant smile on her cheeks as she watches us.
“Of course.” I move to the side, creating room for her as my mom reaches us. “Ciao, Mama,” I say, glancing up to smile at her.
“Hi, baby!” she chimes.
“Thanks for grabbing her on your way,” Dahlia says.
“Of course, my love.” My mom gets into the pool on my other side, sealing me between her and Lou. Lou goes on animatedly about her experience reading the first book in the Percy Jackson series and how much she loved it as the sun begins to set over the Pacific.
“Do you think you’ll ever write a book again?” Lou asks, basically panting after the rapid speech she just finished.
“Actually, I just finished one.”
“Really?” Dahlia, Darby, and my mother all ask excitedly.
A burst of laughter leaves my lips. It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to anyone besides August about my writing, and I forgot the giddy way it feels to talk about your books with others. Especially those who read and love them, which I know Darby does.
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s very different from what I’ve done before. I’m finishing up some self-edits before I send it off to the freelance editor I used to work with years ago. After that, I think I’m going to begin querying agents again.”
“No plans to self-publish?” Darby asks.
I shrug. “Maybe. Right now I’m not in any kind of rush. I think I’m just beginning to feel ready to dip my toes back into the industry. Maybe even activate my social media accounts again and begin interacting with readers, promoting my old work.”
My mom squeezes my thigh, and when I turn my head to her, tears glisten in her brown eyes. She blinks hard, holding them back. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, pressing her lips to my temple. “Sapevo che ti saresti ritrovato. Bentornato.”
I swallow hard, choking on my own emotion. “Grazie, Mama. Ti amo.”
“In the meantime, do you plan on staying at The Wicked Wildflower?” Darby asks.
“No pressure or anything, but please say yes,” Dahlia adds.
I laugh. “Yeah. I mean…I think my ultimate dream would be to run, or even own, a bookstore. I feel most myself when I’m reading, or writing, or talking about books. I’ve learned the hard way that writing can be a fleeting experience. It’s something that can be gained and lost, and when you lose it, it’s real fucking hard to keep yourself afloat if it’s all you have to rely on. I thinkif I would’ve felt less pressure to be a writer…maybe I wouldn’t have been lost for so long.” I sigh before smiling at Dahlia. “But the coffee shop is a great Plan B.”
“You know…we have a whole empty suite right next to The Wicked Wildflower.” Darby raises a pensive brow. “I have an in with the owner, might be able to get you a deal.”
“Oh, my God. A bookstore. Yes!” Lou squeals.
“A bookstore on the pier probably wouldn’t make much money,” I say.
“Who cares?” she scoffs, leaning back against the edge of the pool and tilting her head toward the sky, closing her eyes. “The building is just sitting there collecting dust right now anyway.”
“Yeah, but it would cost a ton to run it.”
“Eh.” Darby flutters a hand, dismissing my concern. “I’ll be your investor. My husband is rich.”
“You could make it a romance-only bookstore and call it Just The Tip,” Dahlia muses before her eyes go wide, and she sits up straighter. “No! Between The Folds.”
“Lord,” my mom mutters under her breath.
“What does that mean?” Lou asks.
“Nothing,” the rest of us chime in unison.
Darby giggles. “You could call it Vise Grip.”
