Chapter 13
I dawdled after work at The Grind House, a local coffee shop. I was surrounded by the scent of freshly roasted coffee beans and the hum of quiet conversations. Sunlight streamed through the windows, gleaming on the tables and chairs. I relaxed into a seat by the window, my steaming cappuccino in one hand and my phone in the other.
Sipping my drink, I scrolled through the comments on my latest bookstagram post, grinning at the flurry of notifications that lit up my screen. My followers were engaging in spirited discussions about the horror reading challenge I had thrown their way. It was a departure from our usual romance fare, but it still seemed to resonate with the bookish community.
I read the comments with a big, goofy smile.
Ohhh, I’ve never been a horror fan, but your post has convinced me to give it a try! one comment read.
Anyone else super impressed with Paris’s versatility in genres? I’m always excited to see what she posts next, another commented.
Count me in for the scary reads! Paris, you’re turning me into a book nerd for life! declared a third.
Reading their comments, my heart expanded. When I first started my bookstagram account, I never imagined how it would take on a life of its own, connecting me with people across the globe who shared my passion for reading.
“Hey, Paris!” Rachel called out.
Lowering my phone, I looked up at my best friend meandering over to my table. “You wouldn’t believe the responses that I’ve been getting for the new horror reading challenge.”
“That’s fantastic. It’s great to see you inspiring so many others.” My bestie slid into the seat across from me, reached over, and then took a sip of my cappuccino.
I smiled. “I always wanted to be a book influencer.”
Rachel drummed her fingertips on the table. “Sooo, I’ve been hearing some interesting buzz around town. Rumor has it that a certain fitness guru has been monopolizing a lot of your time lately. What’s the story with you and Dax?”
At the mention of his name, I stared into the remnants of the foam floating in my cup. Our friendship had come to mean a lot to me in such a short time. And trying to keep my feelings for Dax in check was like attempting to herd cats while wearing catnip perfume—an exercise in futility and potential scratches.
Wrapping my hands around my mug, I took a deep breath. “Rachel, I’m just... scared,” I admitted, my voice cracking with emotion. “You know I’ve been hurt before, and I’ve built walls. High ones.”
The admission sat heavily on my tongue, each syllable carrying the baggage of my past heartbreaks and the angst still gripping my heart.
She gave me a soft smile. “It’s natural to want to protect your heart. But sometimes, the most worthwhile things in life require us to be a little brave and vulnerable. Dax isn’t like those other guys who hurt you. I know him, he’s caring and considerate.”
Fidgeting with the napkin, I tore at it, tiny shreds littering the table. “What if we crash and burn? I don’t want to lose him. Not as a friend.”
Rachel placed a hand over mine, stilling my restless fingers. “Consider what you’re gaining, not losing. And think about it this way—if your friendship with Dax is already strong, even if a romantic relationship didn’t work out, that foundation would still be there.”
Since Dax had joined the book club, I pondered the crazy turns my life had taken. He had somehow managed to wiggle his way into my life when I wasn’t looking, and I had sorely misjudged him. The truth was, I liked him a lot. It was the little things he did, like saving me from spiders or surprising me with a graveyard picnic that made me realize just how much he cared. Dax had a way of making me feel special too, as if I was the only person in the world that mattered.
And it wasn’t just his considerate side I found adorable, Dax was also the most reliable person I had ever met. I knew I could count on him to be there, no matter what. He had become one of my closest friends.
Taking the last sip of my now tepid cappuccino, my turmoil settled like sediment at the bottom of the cup. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
Rachel glanced at my empty mug. “How about a refill?”
“Sure, make mine with a double shot of bravery, would you?” I handed her my cup.
She walked to the counter and returned moments later with two steaming mugs. Rachel retook her seat. “Here you go, extra courage for my favorite bookstagrammer. Look, I know you’re unsure, but I’m team Dax if it makes your decision any easier.”
I let out a long exhale. The attraction between Dax and me was genuine and extended beyond the physical. Some of our late night conversations had stretched into the early morning hours, and the threads of our lives had become more intricately entwined.
“I’m just so afraid of getting hurt again.”
She touched my arm. “It seems like Dax cares about you, and you deserve to be loved fully for who you are. Because you’re awesome, hon.”
My throat tightened. If I wanted to move forward, I had to confront the fears holding me back.
I fidgeted, my finger tracing the delicate swirls painted on the ceramic cup. “Dax is...he’s so certain about what he wants. And me? I’m all over the place, like a bookmark lost between pages,” I said, raising my voice over the hiss of the espresso machine. “Every time I think I know where I’m going, I hit a dead end of doubt.”
My thoughts shifted to that cheater, Julian. His betrayal had left a scar on my soul that just wouldn’t fade, no matter how much time passed. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could still see his face. Even those once trusting eyes that had looked at me with such affection, but turned cold and distant in the end. My chest hurt. It was like an invisible hand was squeezing the air out of my lungs every time I thought about it. Finding out about Julian’s engagement to another woman completely shattered the future I’d imagined for us. And deep down, I knew Dax was different, but I couldn’t fully trust again without risking another heartbreak.
Rachel squeezed my arm, her grip grounding me in the moment. “Even when you feel lost, trust that your heart’s guiding you to where you’re meant to be.”
She always knew how to make me see the lighter side of things, even when I was caught up in my own overthinking.
“If only it were that easy.” I sighed.
“Hey, there’s no hurry. You’ll find your way when you’re ready.”
My chest expanded with a rush of gratitude for my best friend. The cafe buzzed around us, clinking dishes and muffled conversations.
“No matter what happens, I’ll be here. Literary Persuasions stick together, right?”
“Right…” I sniffled, the knot in my chest loosening.
The door opened and in strode Samuel, Aunt Margo, and Carmen. They ordered drinks and then joined us at nearby tables, with a steaming mug of coffee or tea cradled in their hands.
My forehead scrunched and I looked at my best friend. “Did you invite the book club?”
Rachel shrugged. “A new venue for our monthly meeting.”
“Paris, honey, I feel the stars aligning today. With Mars and Jupiter in such a fortuitous arrangement, you’re destined for a year of surprising romantic encounters,” Aunt Margo said. “Your soulmate could be orchestrated by the celestial powers that be!” My aunt’s arms swept through the air with the fervor of an oracle.
But one errant gesture came too close to her iced latte. The cup wobbled ominously before toppling over, sending a flood of chilled coffee rushing across the surface.
Pushing back my chair, I scrambled to my feet. “Oh, no.”
Rachel spun in her chair, her movements quick but disastrously miscalculated. In a reflex of self-preservation, her hand flung her steaming latte into the air like a hot, caffeinated grenade. The cup arced through the air before its contents splattered on Samuel’s lap.
He jumped up with a yelp, his chair clattering to the ground behind him. The noise and commotion drew the attention of every patron, and the coffee shop erupted into gasps and stifled giggles.
Aunt Margo, blissfully undeterred by the pandemonium she’d orchestrated, simply dabbed at a coffee splash on her scarf. “Oops.”
Everybody retook their seats while a barista mopped up the table.
Turning to Samuel, a sympathetic grimace crossed my face. “Are you okay? That looked like a latte of trouble.”
Samuel retrieved his chair and brushed off his pants. “Quite all right. No need to cry over spilled coffee.”
“Next time, let’s stick to less volatile subjects—like a quiet discussion on poetry?” Leaning back, my mismatched socks peeked out from under the hem of my jeans and made me think of Dax and me doing laundry together. “Since we’re all here, I’ve been thinking about this month’s theme for the club.”
“What do you suggest?” Samuel asked.
Carmen held her mug, blowing on the top to cool it. “As an artist, I’m all for exploring new perspectives.”
“I was thinking we could dive into the world of Jane Austen, specifically Emma. There’s just something about her witty humor and social commentary. And it’s practically a manual on how not to matchmake in a small town.” I pointedly looked at my aunt.
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with your reading challenge with Dax? How’s that going?”
“Surprisingly well.” I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the taste. “He’s actually reading Emma now and I thought we could join him.”
Carmen tilted her head. “Ah. The original meddling matchmaker. I can see the appeal. Reading about Emma blundering her way through love could teach us all a thing or two.”
Samuel drank his black coffee. “I believe there’s a certain charm to Austen’s writing, even if it is somewhat frivolous for my tastes.”
I sat up. “I’ll have you know that Emma is a masterpiece of social satire and character development.”
Aunt Margo fluffed her hair, her turquoise jewelry jangling. “Yes, and I’m eager to debate whether Mr. Knightley is the unsung hero or just another gentleman bystander.”
Drinking the last of my coffee, I placed the mug on the table. “I vote unsung hero. Anyone who can handle Emma’s scheming with such patience deserves a medal—or at least a strong cup of coffee.”
Rachel sighed. “And let’s not forget about poor Harriet Smith. That girl got tossed around like a salad at one of those overly enthusiastic brunch spots.”
“I always did love a good romance. And the way Austen skewers the upper crust of society? Delightful!” Aunt Margo said.
Carmen bobbed her head. “Count me in, querida. I’m always up for a good discussion on the foibles of the human heart.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said. “We’ll all read Emma and meet again to discuss the book.”
As the conversation wrapped up, a surge of gratitude for this extraordinary group of individuals who had become my literary lifeline in Bluebell Bend struck me. While I may have always felt like the odd bookworm in this quaint little town, my fellow book club members never failed to make me feel understood and appreciated.