Chapter 7 Alex #2
“Yes, she is. But she also has a clear sense of what’s right and what’s wrong, which made it really hard for her to understand how he could leave them.
She had a lot of anger and shame, questioning her own part in it too.
But she and Annie have gotten a lot of therapy.
We’ve all learned a lot, actually, about the beast that depression really is. How it lies to a person.”
Across the street was Gillian’s dance and Pilates studio, windows dark. I stopped to get a better look.
“Have you always been in that location?” I asked.
“Yes, from the beginning. I was able to buy the building, thank goodness, so it’s a little nest egg for my future.”
I marveled at how well Gillian had taken care of herself and Grace, while staying true to her passions at the same time. “You’re remarkable.”
She laughed, her curls bouncing in the slight breeze from the sea. “Not really. My sister and brother-in-law were just really smart about how they laid everything out if they were to pass. As if they knew.”
We continued along, stopping briefly outside of the closed flower shop. Petals left behind from earlier displays peppered the sidewalk.
“Esme owns the flower shop. She and her two kids live above.” Gillian gestured toward the second floor, where warm light spilled through gauze curtains.
We continued on, as Gillian told me about Esme’s divorce.
“We had no idea how abusive he really was to her and the kids. Robbie had it the worst. He has a genius I.Q. And he’s on the spectrum, so he doesn’t see the world in quite the same way as the other kids.
Esme has always been his biggest advocate, but her ex-husband was the opposite.
He wanted Robbie to be like him, and it was never going to happen.
When Esme finally kicked him out, she told us the ugly truth.
That was the same year Delphine lost her husband and Lila’s husband left her for an intern.
It was a terrible year, but it made us even closer.
Seraphina’s like me. She’s been single since the boyfriend jetted when he found out she was pregnant with Tyler. ”
“Seraphina’s the writer?” I asked, trying to get all the details straight about her friends.
“Yes. Do you want to see her books?” Gillian pointed to the Ink & Anchor just up the block.
“Sure.”
“Have you been in the bookstore yet?” I asked.
I shrugged, feeling sheepish. “I’m an ebook kind of a guy. But my kids love real books.”
Gillian led me over to stand in front of the window display, pointing at the book perched on a small easel. “That’s Seraphina’s latest. The Moonlit Masquerade. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
The cover featured a masked woman in a sapphire gown, circa 1800s.
“She writes contemporaries too, but her historical romances are my favorite,” Gillian said. “All those rules of convention and class add so much drama.”
“You have cool friends,” I said.
“I know. I’m proud of every one of them too.”
“Should we go inside?” I asked. “Maybe choose a book for the kids?”
“Yes, for sure. The bookstore was owned by the same woman for decades,” Gillian said as we stepped toward the front door.
“Everyone loved Mrs. Flynn. Her son took over after she passed away last year. Mrs. Flynn was a total character and great with the customers whereas her son’s more buttoned up.
He was in the Navy, I think. But he has the same uncanny ability to pick just the right book if you tell him what you like. ”
I held the door open for her, and we slipped inside to the clean, crisp smell of newly printed paper and the slightly plasticky scent from book covers.
The shelving stretched nearly to the ceiling, each one crowded with books, with signs indicating genre.
A scattering of tables displayed new releases and staff favorites.
On one of them sprawled a cream-colored cat, stretched to his full length across a row of paperbacks. Gillian leaned close to whisper, “That’s Poe. He just showed up one day and refused to leave.”
Toward the back, the shelves narrowed into smaller alcoves. Gillian touched my arm and steered me toward one. “The romance section,” she said with a smile.
That gave me way too many ideas of what I’d love to do with her in one of those private spots.
Before I could think more about that, a broad-shouldered man approached.
He wore a pale blue button-down, sleeves pressed sharp at the cuffs, and dark slacks that fit just right.
Not a speck of dust on him, not a wrinkle out of place.
His shoes were polished, his dark hair combed neatly back with just enough silver to suggest he’d seen a thing or two.
“Welcome in. I’m Dorian. The owner. Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, we’re just browsing,” Gillian said. “Alex hasn’t been here before.”
Light blue eyes assessed me. “Not a reader?”
“Ebooks mostly,” I said.
“But your kids read paperbacks,” Dorian said, as if he’d overheard our conversation from earlier.
“We were just talking about that,” Gillian said. “I’m Gillian, by the way. I own the dance studio.”
I held out my hand. “Alex Garcia. New to town.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Dorian said. “What do you like to read, Alex?”
“Biographies about leaders are my usual go-to. But now that I’m retired, maybe I should start reading more fiction.” I did a side-eye glance in Gillian’s direction. “Should I try your friend’s book?”
“She’ll be thrilled if you’ve read it before you meet her.” Gillian turned toward Dorian. “Seraphina Sinclair’s a friend of mine.”
“Ah, yes, she was one of my mom’s favorites,” Dorian said. “She’s taken pity on me and agreed to a signing event here next month.”
“She could never say no to your mom, and it sounds like she can’t say it to you either,” Gillian said. “She doesn’t enjoy them as much as some might.”
“Well, I’m grateful,” Dorian said. “She’ll bring in a crowd. And I could use the business.”
“I sure miss seeing your mom when I come in, but it seems like you’re carrying on her legacy very well,” Gillian said.
“It’s been an adjustment after my service in the Navy, that’s for sure,” Dorian said. “I miss her too. She’s everywhere in here, though. It keeps her close.”
Another customer came in, so Dorian excused himself.
“Let’s go find Seraphina’s book,” I said.
We wandered over to the romance section. Seraphina had a whole row to herself, plus several staff picks write ups. I quickly read the one written by Dorian.
The Moonlit Masquerade by Seraphina Sinclair
“Candlelit ballrooms, velvet masks, and secrets that could ruin everything—Sinclair’s latest had me up past midnight.
Yes, there’s swooning and passion, but what surprised me most was how much this book is about having the courage to be seen.
The romance is lush and yearning, but it’s the emotional risk-taking that stayed with me.
“If you love character-driven historicals with real stakes, this one’s for you.”
— Dorian, Ink & Anchor
“Isn’t that a lovely review?” Gillian said.
“It’s made me want to buy it.” I snatched a copy from the shelf and turned to find Gillian closer than I expected. So close I nearly knocked into her.
My hand shot out instinctively, catching her waist to steady her. She didn’t step back.
Her eyes lifted to mine—those green eyes I’d spent fourteen years trying to forget—and my thumb pressed against her hip bone without permission. She drew in a sharp breath.
“Do you want to kiss me?” Her voice was barely a whisper as her arms slid around my neck.
“Yes.” The word came out rougher than I meant it to. I pulled her closer, felt her body align with mine, and for a second I just stood there, our mouths an inch apart. Her breath was warm. She smelled like something clean and familiar—soap and salt air.
Then I closed the distance.
The first brush of her lips against mine was gentle, testing.
But when she made a small sound in the back of her throat and pressed closer, something in my chest cracked open.
I deepened the kiss, my hand sliding up her spine, and she kissed me back like she’d been waiting just as long as I had.
Fourteen years collapsed into nothing. Just her mouth, her hands in my hair, the thundering of my heart against my ribs.
Then reality crashed back.
“Dad!”
The word cut through the air, sharp enough to slice through the haze. Gillian jerked back, eyes wide, as Bella stood frozen at the end of the aisle, her face pale with fury, arms wrapped tight across her chest.
For a heartbeat, none of us moved. I felt Gillian’s breath still warm on my lips, her hand still trembling at the back of my neck, and my daughter’s eyes locked on both of us like we’d committed some unthinkable crime.
“Bella—” My voice came out gruff, unsteady. I dropped my hand from Gillian's waist and straightened, trying to pull myself together.
Behind her, I caught sight of two other girls shifting uncomfortably, but my focus snapped back to my daughter’s face.
Gillian pulled back, her fingers sliding from my neck as she put distance between us. She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms, then immediately uncrossed them, clearly unsure what to do with her hands. Her eyes moved from Bella to me and back again.
“Bella, it’s not what you think,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I knew they sounded thin. It was exactly what she thought.
“Don’t lie to me. It’s so obvious.” Bella’s voice cracked, rage and grief twisting together. “So it’s serious? You’re not just going out with her. You’re kissing her in bookstores like some lovesick teenager.”
“Bella—”
“You didn’t even care what I said, did you? I told you I wasn’t okay with this, but you don’t care at all about how I feel.” Her voice cracked, but her eyes blazed, hard as glass. “It’s like I don’t matter to you at all.”
My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. “That’s not true,” I managed, stepping toward her.
She took a step back, hands trembling at her sides. “Mom’s only been gone two years. Two years. And you’re already replacing her with some woman you knew forever ago.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Have you been in love with her this whole time? Even when you were with Mom?”
The words punched even more air from my lungs. I opened my mouth, desperate to tell her she was wrong, but no sound came. Behind me, I felt Gillian step back.
“You’re beyond selfish,” Bella spat, tears finally spilling over. “You only ever think about yourself. I thought—” Her voice broke completely. “I thought Peter and I mattered to you. That you would do anything for your kids. But I guess I was wrong.”
She spun away, charging out the front door, the two other kids following behind and leaving Gillian and me standing frozen among the romance novels and their mocking covers of promised love.