Page 48 of The Bookshop of Forbidden Books

“Okay. How many times have you felt this way, in total, since you started doing up this place?”

“At least ten.”

Mitch chuckled.

“It’s not funny.” She glowered.

“Ten times? Child’s play. When I was fixing up the bookshop, I almost threw in the towel about a hundred times.”

Anna caught sight of herself in the mirror and winced.

“The worst is behind you,” Mitch went on, pulling her close again.

He didn’t want to leave. Truthfully, nothing sounded better than spending another night with her. But one glance at his own worn and dishevelled appearance made the decision for him. If he hurried, he could still catch the last train.

Anna pulled a key from her pocket and, nodding to the van parked outside the restaurant, offered to drive him home.

“I rented it,” she said. “I have to go to an auction tomorrow. If I get lucky, I’ll come back with everything I still need for this place – and it’s a long list.”

* * *

As soon as they were on the road, Mitch offered to accompany Anna to the auction tomorrow; she’d need help loading up whatever she found.

“That’s sweet, but you still have a bookshop to run, and readers counting on you to make up for the five years of book shopping they’d lost to some absurd law. I’ll manage perfectly well on my own.” She always had, and she didn’t plan on changing that now.

They stopped for gas and grabbed dinner (sandwiches and chips) at the service station. They finally made it to Mitch’s apartment around midnight.

Admiring the bookshelves lining the walls of the living room, Anna noticed one thing she and Mitch didn’t have in common. There were no family photos displayed in her home.

They made love in the shower and collapsed into bed.

“If I close up a little early, I could come meet you,” Mitch murmured softly. “You could just leave the heavy stuff in the van. The dishwasher, the freezer, the fridge – they must weigh a ton, and if you’ve already unloaded everything else, I can help set those up. That’s not such a bad idea, right?”

But Anna was already asleep. Or pretending to be.

* * *

When Mitch woke up the next morning, he found a note on the pillow next to him.

Be good. Look after your customers and don’t worry about me. I’ll come and see you as soon as I can. Don’t you dare come to me.

Kisses (on the lips),

Anna

He read it twice. It was brief – but the thought of those kisses was enough to brighten the rest of his day.

By mid-morning, while he boxed up unsold books (always leaving a copy of each behind on the shelf, just in case), Mitch caught himself wondering whether his thirst for revenge still burned as intensely. The answer, he realized, must be no – or he wouldn’t be asking himself the question. But as soon as he’d answered that one, a new question crept in: could he ever be truly happy if he let it go?

His whole life had been shaped by a need to be useful, and his career choice had grown from that very instinct: helping customers, preserving stories, honouring life – starting with that of his father, to whom he’d dedicated his bookshop. He’d always put other people’s needs and desires ahead of his own, finding purpose in what he gave, or shared with, others. At school, his teachers described him as kind-hearted, curious, attentive – qualities the world often mistakes for weakness.

Those traits took a great deal of both imagination and courage. What would become of them if he ever acted on the dark fantasies he sometimes had about Salinas?

Mitch’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a person he hadn’t seen in years.

“So the rumours are true – you really are back!” cried Madame Ateltow.

She looked so genuinely moved that Mitch half-expected her to hug him.