Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
The door to Marley and Tess’s apartment creaks open, and the scent of toasted bagels and vanilla-scented candles wrap around me like a hug. So cozy that it makes your guard drop before your coat does.
Marley has already rearranged the living room into a crisis command centre. A bag of warm bagels sits between the cushions, and three mugs of coffee steam on the table.
Tess is curled up in a chair, barefaced and beautiful in that silent powerful way only she manages to be.
‘Took you long enough,’ Marley quips, tossing me a throw blanket.
‘I stopped to spiral. How did you even beat me here?’ I deadpan as I sink into the couch, only then noticing how tight my shoulders are. My whole body feels like it has been bracing for something.
Tess leans forward. ‘What happened?’
I exhale slowly and recount everything: Justin’s smugness, his words, the threat. The way he tried to press guilt into my chest like it still belonged to him.
Marley is pacing now, her hands gesturing wildly like she is directing a particularly violent orchestra. ‘I swear to God, I will stomp that man’s ego into the ground.’
Tess is quieter but no less fierce. ‘He wants money? This isn’t about him. It’s about you protecting your truth, on your terms.’
I nod, but my hands are still cold. ‘I’m scared,’ I admit. ‘Not just of what he’ll do, but what it means if Lucas finds out and decides I’m not who he thought I was.’
I don’t say it out loud, but part of me wonders if Justin is right. Suppose the illusion of Lola Reid is the only reason anyone had paid attention. What if Lucas sees through the veneer and walks the moment, he realises I am just me?
Marley drops beside me. ‘Babe. If he does, then he’s not who you thought he is.’
‘And you’re tired,’ Tess adds gently. ‘You’ve been carrying this secret so long it’s calcified. It’s okay to not want to hold it anymore.’
We sit in silence for a beat. Then Tess says, ‘So here’s the plan.’
I raise a brow: what plan?
‘There’s a plan?’ I ask.
‘You’re going to message your therapist this afternoon. You need someone neutral in your corner, and it’s been far too long since you saw her.’
‘I already have you two.’
Marley nudges me. ‘We’re the emotional support group. You need a licensed professional to sort out the mental filing cabinet.’
I smile weakly. ‘Fair.’
‘Then,’ Tess continues, ‘you take a few days. Think it through and then tell Lucas before the second print run. Before the PR buzz grows.’ I take a deep breath, and she must sense my apprehension. ‘I’ll help you rehearse the conversation,’ Tess offers.
‘I’ll bring wine and cheesy movies as emotional backup,’ Marley adds.
I look between them, something heavy easing off my chest. ‘Okay,’ I say finally. ‘I’m not ready, but I think I’m willing.’
Marley grins, reaching for the remote. ‘That’s our girl.’ She pauses before hitting play on the screen, grabbing her phone instead. ‘Also, completely unrelated, but I’ve decided I’m officially a freelance social media manager now.’
Tess arches a brow. ‘Since when?’
‘Since I realised Lucas’s bookstore Instagram is a digital desert and it’s physically painful to look at. Plus, I want to work for myself.’
I laugh softly. ‘You’re going to ambush him, aren’t you?’
‘Ambush? No. Strategically revitalise? Yes.’
Tess snorts. ‘You haven’t even asked if he wants help.’
Marley waves her off. ‘Minor detail. I’ll ask while I’m already giving him ideas. I refuse to let that store’s aesthetic potential go to shit. The name alone deserves a viral moment.’
I shake my head, smiling despite everything. ‘Poor Lucas doesn’t know what’s coming.’
Marley lifts her coffee mug like a toast. She flops down beside me again. ‘Okay, now tell us something good.’
I hesitate. ‘We had coffee the other morning. Outside Inkwell a packet of mint tea, dark chocolate-covered pretzels, and a pair of fuzzy socks.
I smile despite the ache in my chest. ‘You didn’t have to.’
‘I wanted to.’ He meets my gaze. ‘I wasn't sure if you’d want company. But I didn’t want you to be alone.’
Unable to control the smile that tugs at my lips, I say, ‘Thank you.’ I gesture vaguely towards the living room. ‘Welcome to my humble apartment.’
He takes a step towards the couch but stops, eyes catching on the slightly lopsided bookshelf near the window. ‘That’s going to bother me,’ he mutters.
‘What?’ I follow his gaze.
‘That tilt. You’ve got a wonky shelf.’ He glances at me, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. ‘Do you have a screwdriver?’
I huff a laugh, setting my mug down. ‘You came here to check on me and ended up on a home repair mission?’
‘Call it multitasking.’
A few minutes later, he’s kneeling by the shelf with his sleeves pushed up, revealing the veins in his forearms. ‘It’s not loose, just uneven,’ he says, fiddling with the bracket.
‘Story of my life,’ I mutter, crouching beside him.
We work in silence for a moment, the faint scrape of metal against wood the only sound. My knee bumps his, and instead of shifting away, he stays exactly where he is.
‘Hold this steady.’ He guides my hand to the edge of the shelf. His fingers wrap briefly over mine, warm and far too distracting for something as mundane as fixing a bookshelf.
When he tightens the final screw, he glances up. We’re eye-level, too close for comfort, but I don’t move. Neither does he. The air between us shifts, almost visible in its weight. He smiles then, soft, private, and I feel it somewhere deep.
‘Better,’ he confirms finally, giving the shelf one last tap before straightening up.
‘Tea, coffee or whiskey?’ I ask.
‘Ahh, definitely whiskey.’
Grabbing two glasses, I meet him on the couch.
I glance down at the coffee table, noticing I have left out my copy of my book.
Rather than panic, I say, ‘Sorry, I was up late last night journaling, well, and all day today. Let me move this out of the way.’ I gather up my journal and the copy of The Year Before You.
If Lucas notices, he doesn’t say anything about it.
‘How’s Inkwell & Ivy going?’ I ask, nudging his knee gently. ‘Are you still running the trade-a-book-for-a-story thing?’
Lucas chuckles. ‘Yeah, and it’s getting a little out of hand. Someone traded in a whole trilogy last week and left a handwritten account of their first kiss under the dust jacket.’
I laugh. ‘That’s kind of amazing.’
‘I thought so too, until Jasper spent ten minutes dramatically reading it in the YA section.’
I smile again, my shoulders slowly beginning to drop. ‘You like it here?’ I ask softly.
‘I do,’ he replies. ‘More than I thought I would.’
I trace the rim of my glass, eyes unfocused. ‘I think that’s what I always wanted. A place that feels like mine. That feels like something. I didn’t really get that growing up.’
Lucas looks at me gently. ‘You’ve never talked much about your family.’