Chapter Twelve
“This is getting out of hand,” Jax said, refilling Emery's wine glass for the third time that evening. “Your face is all over social media, and it's only a matter of time before someone recognizes you.”
Emery groaned, sinking deeper into her sofa cushions.
Her flat was even more of a mess than usual, half-empty coffee mugs scattered across every surface, manuscripts pages fanned out on the coffee table, and a trail of discarded clothes leading to her bedroom.
Jax had arrived an hour ago with two bottles of wine and a concerned expression that only grew more severe as Emery recounted the day's events.
“It's not my face,” Emery protested weakly. “It's just my silhouette. And my back. And maybe the side of my head in one photo.”
“That's not the point and you know it.” Jax tucked her feet underneath her on the couch. “The more attention the bookshop gets, the more likely someone is to connect Emery Parker with Emerald Pearl. You're trending, Em. On multiple platforms.”
Emery took a large gulp of wine, wincing as it burned its way down her throat. “What am I supposed to do? Quit?”
“Yes, actually,” Jax said. “Or, novel idea, tell Eveline the truth.”
“I can't do that,” Emery said, shaking her head so vigorously that wine sloshed over the rim of her glass. “She hates romance novels. She basically said they're responsible for giving people unrealistic expectations about love. She would hate me.”
“You don't know that.”
“I do know that.” Emery set her glass down with more force than necessary. “You didn't see her face when she was talking about romance being fantasy. She has this… history. I don't know what exactly, but something bad happened. Something that made her cynical.”
Jax raised an eyebrow. “So instead of being honest, you're just going to… what? Keep pretending to be someone you're not until it inevitably blows up in your face?”
Emery sighed and reached for her laptop. “Look, I need to show you something.”
She opened her document and turned the screen toward Jax, who leaned forward, eyes scanning the first page.
“Is this…?”
“My new manuscript,” Emery said. “The one I've been working on since I started at the bookshop.”
Jax read in silence for a few minutes, her expression shifting from skepticism to surprise. “Em, this is… this is really good. Different from your usual stuff. Deeper.”
“I know,” Emery said quietly. “It's the best thing I've ever written. And it's all because of her, Jax. I can't leave now. The book's barely half done.”
“So, what's your plan? Stay at the bookshop until you finish writing, then disappear from Eveline's life forever?”
Emery looked away, biting her lip. The truth was, she hadn't thought that far ahead.
Couldn't bear to imagine not seeing Eveline every day, not watching the way she reverently handled first editions, or the rare smile that transformed her usually serious face into something so beautiful it made Emery's chest ache.
“That's what I thought,” Jax said softly when Emery didn't answer. “This isn't just about the book anymore, is it?”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Emery muttered, reaching for her wine glass again.
“Bullshit,” Jax said. “You've fallen for her.”
“I haven’t…” Emery began, then stopped. What was the point? Jax knew her too well. “Fine. Maybe I have. A bit. But that doesn't change anything. In fact, it makes it worse. How am I supposed to tell her now?”
Jax shook her head. “I don't know. But the longer you wait, the harder it's going to be. Secrets have a way of coming out at the worst possible moment. Trust me, I've seen it in court too many times.”
Emery buried her face in her hands. Even Domi had said the same thing. “I'm so screwed.”
“Epically,” Jax agreed, patting her shoulder sympathetically. “But hey, at least you're writing again. And who knows? Maybe when Eveline reads your book, she'll forgive you for lying about being its author.”
Emery peeked through her fingers to glare at Jax. “Not helping.”
“Sorry,” Jax said, not looking sorry at all. “Just remember, Em, the romances you write always have happy endings. Maybe it's time to believe in one for yourself.”
Emery snorted. “Right. Because real life works exactly like my books.”
“Sometimes,” Jax said with a shrug, “it might surprise you.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Emery arrived at the bookshop with a pounding headache and the lingering sense of dread that had followed her since Jax's departure.
She'd managed to write another chapter before falling into bed, the words flowing despite her anxiety, or maybe because of it.
Her protagonists were circling each other now, drawn together by an undeniable attraction even as secrets threatened to tear them apart.
The shop was still closed when she arrived, and she used her key to let herself in, relishing the quiet moment before the day began. She'd just started the coffeemaker in the small back room when the front door rattled.
Emery opened it to find Ollie balancing precariously on one foot, a stack of packages teetering in his arms.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said cheerfully. “Special delivery for The Turned Page.”
“Let me help,” Emery said, grabbing the top few packages before they could fall. “You're early today.”
“Route change,” Ollie said, following her inside. “Got a big delivery up in Hampstead later, so doing the smaller stops first.”
Emery set the packages on the counter and began sorting through them while Ollie placed the rest beside them. Her heart nearly stopped when she spotted an envelope addressed to “Emerald Pearl, c/o The Turned Page.” She recognized Domi's flowing handwriting immediately.
“What's that?” Ollie asked, peering over her shoulder.
“Nothing,” Emery said too quickly, snatching the envelope and shoving it into her back pocket. “Just, um, junk mail.”
Ollie raised an eyebrow. “Fancy envelope for junk mail.”
“The scammers are getting smarter,” Emery said, her voice unnaturally high.
“Mmm,” said Ollie, clearly unconvinced. “Well, sign here, and I'll be on my way.”
Emery scribbled her signature on his clipboard, willing him to leave before Eveline arrived. The last thing she needed was a conversation about why fancy junk mail was coming to the shop.
“All sorted?” Eveline's voice came from behind them, making Emery to jump.
“Yep!” Emery said brightly. “Just the usual deliveries. Nothing unusual or noteworthy at all.”
Eveline gave her an odd look. “Alright then.”
Ollie smirked, glancing between them. “I'll be off then. See you ladies tomorrow.”
As the door closed behind him, Eveline moved to inspect the packages. “Anything important?”
“Just some new releases and a few special orders,” Emery said, casually placing herself between Eveline and the spot where the envelope had been. “I'll get these unpacked right away.”
The day grew progressively busier as the hours passed. Emery threw herself into her work, determined to focus on anything other than the envelope burning a hole in her pocket or the conversation with Jax that kept replaying in her mind.
By late afternoon, the shop was fuller than Emery had ever seen it, maybe Zara's social media posts really were drawing in curious new customers. Emery found herself in her element, effortlessly connecting readers with books they didn't even know they wanted yet.
“Have you read this one?” a woman asked, holding up a historical fiction novel.
“Not yet,” Emery said. “But I loved the author's last book. Her research is amazing, and she has this way of making historical figures feel completely human.”
The woman smiled. “Sold. And maybe I'll take these two as well.”
The scene repeated itself throughout the day, with Emery's genuine passion for books translating into sale after sale. When the last customer finally left, the register drawer was stuffed to capacity, and the shelves looked noticeably barer.
“Well,” Eveline said, leaning against the counter with a look of surprise. “That was… impressive.”
Emery blushed. “Just a busy day.”
“No,” Eveline said. “It was more than that. You have a gift, Emery. The way you connect with customers, understand what they're looking for even when they don't know themselves… It’s a pleasure to watch.”
The compliment sent a warm flutter through Emery's chest. “Thank you,” she said softly, not knowing what else to say.
Eveline held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, something unreadable in her dark eyes. Then she cleared her throat and looked away. “We should count the register. I think this might be our best day in months.”
As they worked side by side, counting up the day's sales, Emery was very aware of Eveline's presence. The subtle scent of her perfume, the way her fingers moved deftly through the stacks of bills, the small smile that played at the corners of her mouth.
The bell above the door jingled, despite the ‘Closed’ sign, and Maya bustled in with a box of pastries.
“I saw your light was still on,” she said by way of explanation. “And I had these left over. Thought you two might need a sugar boost after such a busy day.”
“You were watching us?” Eveline asked, eyebrow raised.
“Of course,” Maya said with a grin. “You looked rushed off your feet.”
Emery accepted a pastry. “Thanks, Maya.”
“Actually, I'm glad I caught you both,” Maya said, a gleam in her eye that made Emery instantly wary. “I'm having a little gathering at the bakery this weekend. Just a small birthday celebration. Nothing fancy. You’re both invited, of course.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Eveline began, but Maya cut her off.
“No excuses, Eveline. You haven't been to a social event in months. And Emery, you simply must come. It wouldn't be the same without you.”
Emery looked at Eveline, who seemed torn between irritation and resignation. “I'd love to come,” she said. “If Eveline is going.”
Maya beamed. “Wonderful. Saturday at seven. Don't be late.” She deposited the pastry box on the counter and swept out as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving a trail of flour dust in her wake.
Eveline sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I suppose we're going to a party, then.”
“Looks like it,” Emery said, trying to ignore the way her heart raced at the thought of seeing Eveline outside the bookshop. “It might be fun.”
“Fun,” Eveline repeated, as if testing out an unfamiliar word. But there was a hint of a smile on her lips, and when she looked at Emery again, something soft flickered in her eyes. “Yes, perhaps it might be.”
Emery smiled back, the envelope in her pocket momentarily forgotten, replaced by the warm glow of anticipation.