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“Girl, I came in here looking for a book and I want yours.”

“Thank you,” I beam, closing the laptop and tucking it into my bag. “Fancy a drink before lunch?”

Her face lights up with a bright, surprised smile that quickly turns infectious. “Absolutely,” she says, hopping to her feet, following me out of the room.

At the honesty bar, I add another glass of wine beside my room number while she grabs a bottle of lager from the fridge. Drinks in hand, we head towards the veranda, the rich aromas of garlic, tomatoes, lemon and fresh herbs drifting through the lodge. My stomach rumbles on cue. Whatever Enzo’s cooking smells incredible.

Just before we reach the patio doors, we pass another guest—a tall black man, with salt and pepper flecks throughout his hair and beard, in dark combat trousers and a fitted T-shirt. He flashes us an easy smile. “Afternoon ladies.”

We return the greeting, stepping out into the warm July sunshine. For the first time in days, the knot in my chest loosens. Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad after all. I’ve only been here an hour, and I’ve already sold two books and made a friend. That’s got to be a good sign.

Chapter 6

Luna

After a three-and-a-half-hour drive in our little yellow VW camper, I am famished. Luckily, we’ve arrived just in time for lunch, and I head straight for the dining table under the veranda. Lennie beside me, smiling from ear to ear. It’s warm today, and the shade feels like a relief. “I think I might treat myself to a glass of wine with lunch, shall we get a bottle?”

Lennie scoffs playfully, taking my hand in his, kissing it gently. “We should definitely get the bottle; you’ve earned it after all your hard work. We have the whole day to relax for a change, so go wild… I like you wild.” He smirks, eyebrows raised in that adorable way of his.

A laugh escapes me. “Oh, ok then husband, you’ve twisted my arm.”

I almost tell him. Before it gets any bigger. But how do you confess you’ve become the very thing you promised you’d never be?

He presses a kiss to my cheek as he leaves to order our drinks and I watch him go, warmth lingering where his lips were. I keep memorising moments like this lately. The ordinary little moments of happiness. As though if I pay close enough attention, I might be able to hold onto them when everything falls apart.

Laughter interrupts my thoughts as two women step through the patio doors.

“Mind if we join you?” one of them asks.

She’s striking with warm amber-brown skin and a riot of copper-red curls. Her ripped denim dungarees, worn over a striped top, give her an effortless charm, as she balances a glass of white wine in one hand. I naturally like her already. She seems down to earth.

“Go on then,” I say, smiling. “Plenty of room.”

“Cheers. I’m Bri." She smiles, setting her glass down before nodding toward her friend. “That’s Ember, we literally just met in the library and decided drinks and lunch together sounded better than sitting alone like a pair of eejits.”

Ember gives a small wave—like she's trying not to take up space—and I'm struck by her beauty. Porcelain skin framed by a palette of black, her vivid purple hair the only bold stroke of colour. “For real,” she says in a soft American accent. “I hate staying at places alone, people usually stare if you dine alone.”

I chuckle. “I’m Luna.”

Bri takes a sip of wine. “Are you here for the convention too, Luna?”

“I am. Trading all weekend with my husband Lennie, he’s just inside getting our drinks.”

Ember’s face lights up. “No way, us too.”

“First time?” I ask.

“Is it that obvious?” Bri grins.

“Only because you’ve still got that hopeful look about you,” I tease. “Give it two days.”

“Don’t mind her, she’s winding you ladies up,” Lennie huffs softly, returning with our drinks. I smile, taking two glasses from his hand, freeing him to set down the wine cooler tucked into the crook of his arm. “Truthfully, we’re old hands at the con scene, we know most people by now.”

A chair scrapes lightly against the floor as a man slips into it with an easy confidence. “Oh, so you two are our knowledge guides for this weekend then," he says, setting a glass of red wine down in front of him. He’s beautiful, with dark, tousled curls, warm olive skin and sharp cheekbones softened by a neatly trimmed goatee. His ink-black shirt hangs open almost to his waist, revealing a fine gold chain and small locket hanging there like a secret he’s chosen not to share. “I’m Saint by the way,” he adds. His accent dancing between Spanish warmth and English crispness as he glances around the table—eyes lingering just a second too long—as if measuring each of us in turn.

There’s a brief round of reintroductions as I pour two glasses of wine, sliding one towards Lennie. Leaning back in my chair, I finally relax, taking a slow sip to savour the coolness on my tongue.

“I’m glad there’s someone here who knows what they’re doing,” Bri says, smiling at me. “I’ve no idea what I’ve signed up for.”