Emmy was surrounded by romance novels. She’d wanted to skip over the fantasies, the historical romances, the magical realism, but what if the author who’d written the book she was in had branched out? The Google searches for the author and the book had turned up nothing, unsurprisingly. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a clue in a book somewhere. At the moment, she was exploring the possibility that the author existed in this world, but had a different name. Or a different pen name. As such, she couldn’t take any chances; she would look at every single romance novel in the library. But, since she needed to start somewhere, she had only pulled those that had been published between 2016 and 2018.
There were three stacks on the table in front of her. The biggest one was books she had skimmed and rejected. The names didn’t match and the writing styles were vastly different. Opposite the rejects was the pile she’d yet to go through. In front of her was a smaller pile of maybes. The names didn’t match—not that she expectedthem to, as Big Brother Google had declared the author nonexistent—but the writing style was similar. It was still anyone’s guess if she was supposed to look for the book she’d been reading—the one she was currently in—or a book that was about her. Maybe, just maybe, she would find a book about Emmy Miura that she could read in order to get back to her world. Then again, maybe she wasn’t supposed to look for a book at all. There was always the possibility that she was only going to get out if Will agreed to somehow force himself to fall in love with Bright, and she couldn’t ask him to do that. There was also the galling possibility that there was no way out, and she was stuck long-term in a world of make-believe. Last night, lying in her borrowed bed, she found her mind constantly wandering back to this possibility, that she was trapped forever. That she’d never see her friends or family again. Never find her way back to a world that she belonged to. Then she remembered that Will was feeling the exact same way, and he only felt that way because of her. Any time she felt like giving up, she thought of him rather than herself. For him, she would keep going. Until she was old and gray if she had to.
Good God, she hoped it didn’t come to that.
When she heard footsteps behind her, she assumed Will had come to find her. How long had it been anyway? She checked her phone and was shocked to see she’d been at this for hours. Good thing Will was here. Her brain needed a break.
“You must be a fast reader.”
She looked up with surprise and some trepidation to see one of the guys who’d tried to ask her out on her first unfortunate sojourn into town. She recognized themessenger bag. Was it Lost Guy? She couldn’t put a name to his face, but she was pretty sure that was because he hadn’t introduced himself at the time. When she only stared blankly, he coughed uncomfortably and shrugged.
“Lots of books,” he mumbled. “We met the other day in the park. You were going to give me directions, but then that jogger came up and started hassling us. I lost track of you after that.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that, but I was um… late and I had to run.”
“Hey, no worries. As soon as you left, he backed off. Good thing, too. I think he was getting ready to punch me.”
“I’m glad that worked out.” Emmy didn’t like sitting there while he was standing. He kind of towered over her. Not much would change if she stood up—he was still tall enough to tower over her—but it would at least put her in a position to beat a hasty retreat. She got to her feet, purposefully putting her chair between them. “I was just heading out actually. It’s later than I thought, so…”
“Hey, no worries. I just wanted to say hi. We didn’t get to finish our conversation last time.”
To her recollection, there hadn’t been much of a conversation. “It’s fine. I didn’t have much to say.”
“Maybe we could find something to talk about over dinner. You like Italian?”
“Um… no. I mean, no to the dinner. I’m seeing someone.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Since when?”
“What do you mean ‘since when’? What does that matter?”
“I mean… it doesn’t. It’s just… I guess I got the wrong impression. I thought we were getting pretty deep into aflirt session back in the park. You know, before The Hulk thought he needed to smash.”
“I was not flirting.”
“Felt like it to me.”
She shook her head. “If I gave you the wrong impression, I’m sorry. The point is, I’m seeing someone, so I’m going to pass on dinner. Thanks for the invite, though. It’s really… flattering.”
“I… okay. Sure. Well, maybe I could give you my number. Text me if you change your mind.”
“Look—”
“Hey, Em. Everything okay?”
Fake relationship or not, Emmy could have kissed Will at that moment. As soon as he walked up, slipped his arm around her shoulders, her world felt steady again. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized she’d been more than just uncomfortable when she was alone with Lost Guy; she’d been afraid.
Lost Guy frowned up at Will, who had a good four inches on him. “This keeps happening. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were some kind of magnet for big, beefy dudes.”
“It does seem that way,” Emmy said, allowing herself to smile and lean into Will. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m seeing somebody.” She laid her hand over Will’s chest to emphasize her point, anddamn, that man had one fine chest.
“Oh, this is the guy.” He sized Will up, looked disappointed by his own conclusions. “You’re together.”
“Yep.”
He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay. Well.”
Emmy allowed herself a sigh of relief when he shuffled off. Will’s arm stayed around her as the door swung shut behind him. Then he touched the side of her face until she looked up at him.
