Page 27 of The Bookshop of Forbidden Books

“No. Not even close. And I can’t imagine you don’t know that.”

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s just pretend I am. I’d really like to leave here with something good to read.”

Mitch clenched the muscles of his right leg, determined not to limp, and stepped out from behind the counter. He selected a book from a table, skimmed the back cover, grimaced, set it down. Tried another. Then another. By the fifth, Anna had come up beside him and gently placed a hand on his arm.

“Are you going to pick one?”

He couldn’t speak.

“Just suggest something. I’ll be happy with anything,” she promised.

“A cup of tea?”

She blinked, caught off guard. Mitch blushed very deeply.

As it turned out, Anna wasn’t the only one with a tendency to blurt things out when overwhelmed.

“No – I meant – a book, obviously. I was going to suggest a book…” He was stammering now.

“A tearoom works too,” Anna said, surprised to find how much the idea delighted her, despite the enormous amount of work she had to do that afternoon. “I didn’t have time for lunch anyway,” she added hastily, to give herself an excuse. “You pick the place. I can come back for the book another day.”

Mitch locked the front door of the shop and led her out through the courtyard. Spotting the stray cat, she went over to scratch it behind the ears.

“Is he yours?”

“Nope. He’s our night watchman.”

She followed Mitch out of the courtyard without comment. They veered off the main avenue, turned down a side street, then another, then another. They roamed the area in this way for almost an hour, silent except for the occasional bit of small talk. Mitch was uncomfortably aware that he had no idea where to take her, for the simple reason that he’d never been to a tearoom. They were making their way around a square when Anna stopped and scanned the horizon.

“We’ve come quite a long way, haven’t we?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“Um… not exactly.”

“I thought so.”

“I usually walk along the river, but I thought that was a bit too clichéd.”

“Never be afraid of clichés.” Anna grinned. “Pretty sure the river’s on the other side of town by now, though. The next café we see will do just fine.”

Ten minutes later, she pointed out a little bistro. Inside, she sank down onto a bench seat and ordered a vodka.

“I know it’s still early, but I need a pick-me-up that will really pick me up,” she explained.

“Rough day?”

Anna nodded.

“Do you mind if I ask why?”

“You can, but I’d rather not even think about it. Why don’t you tell me about your day instead?”

Mitch ordered a tequila and the waiter disappeared.

“So, tequila’s your thing, eh?” Anna asked.