Chapter Thirteen
Emery tugged at the hem of her dress as she approached the bakery. Maya had transformed the space for her birthday. Fairy lights twinkled in the windows, and the normal display cases had been pushed aside to make room for guests. Soft music drifted out each time the door opened.
She took a deep breath and checked her reflection one last time in a nearby window.
She'd spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready, trying on outfit after outfit before settling on a simple blue dress that Jax always said brought out her eyes. Her curls were as untamable as ever, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.
“Are you planning to go in, or just admire the decorations all night?”
Emery caught her breath at the sound of Eveline's voice behind her. She turned to find the bookshop owner looking effortlessly elegant in a dark green dress, her dark hair loose around her shoulders instead of in its usual practical knot.
“I was just…” Emery gestured vaguely at nothing in particular. “Working up my courage.”
Eveline smiled. “It's only Maya and her friends. Nothing to fear.”
“Says the woman who tried to wiggle out of coming,” Emery said.
Eveline laughed. “Touché. Shall we face the lion's den together, then?”
Emery nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest as they walked side by side to the door. Eveline seemed different outside of the bookshop, softer somehow, less guarded. Emery wanted to commit every detail to memory, knowing it would all find its way into her manuscript later tonight.
Maya spotted them the moment they came in, abandoning her conversation to rush over with outstretched arms. “You came! Both of you! Together!” She looked between them with obvious delight.
“Happy birthday,” Emery said, handing over the gift she’d bought, a vintage cookie cutter shaped like a book that she'd found in a secondhand shop.
“And many more,” Eveline added, offering a bottle of wine that Emery suspected was far more expensive than her own gift.
“You're both darlings,” Maya said, accepting both with a beaming smile. “Now come in, get drinks, mingle.”
Before either of them could protest, Maya was steering them toward a table laden with food and drinks. Emery felt instantly overwhelmed by the crowd, most of whom seemed to know each other. She reached for a glass of wine, thinking it might help her relax.
“Nervous?” Eveline asked, taking her own glass.
“A bit,” Emery admitted. “I'm not great at parties. Especially when I don't know anyone.”
“You know me,” Eveline said.
“True,” Emery said. “And Maya, of course. And… oh, there's Abe.”
She’d spotted him seated in a comfortable chair near the window, observing the festivities with obvious amusement. Eveline followed her gaze and nodded.
“Maya invites him to everything. Says he's the best gossip in town, though he'd never admit it.”
Emery found herself relaxing as the evening went on.
Maya's friends were warm and welcoming, eager to hear how she'd come to work at The Turned Page.
She carefully edited her story, leaving out the part about being Emerald Pearl and focusing instead on her love of books and her ‘accidental’ job offer.
But she remained acutely aware of Eveline moving through the crowd. Unlike at the shop, where she was cooler, here Eveline smiled more freely, laughed more often. Emery found herself constantly distracted by the sight, by the way Eveline's whole face transformed when she was amused.
“She's different tonight,” Abe said.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Emery said. “More relaxed.”
“It's good to see,” said Abe. “Been a long time since I've seen her this comfortable. You're good for her, you know.”
Emery nearly choked on her wine. “Me? I don't think…”
“An old man notices things,” Abe said with a wink.
Emery felt her face heat up. “It's not… we're not…”
“Not yet,” Abe said. “But hope springs eternal.”
Before Emery could respond, Eveline approached them, a fresh glass of wine in hand. “What are you two conspiring about over here?”
“Books, of course,” Abe said smoothly. “What else?”
Eveline looked skeptical.
Emery turned just at that moment, her elbow catching on something, sending her wine splashing across the nearest table and all over her hand. With a yelp of surprise, she jumped back, nearly colliding with another guest.
“I'm so sorry,” she said, grabbing at napkins to mop up the mess, succeeding only in knocking over an empty glass on the table as well. “I didn't mean to…”
A hand appeared beside hers, offering fresh napkins.
“Here,” Eveline said. “Let me help.”
Together, they mopped up the spilled wine, Emery's embarrassment only slightly mitigated by Eveline's calm efficiency.
Emery sighed. “I'm such a disaster.”
“Not at all,” Eveline said. She smiled. “Have you always been this… accident-prone?”
Emery considered her answer. She could tell the truth, that she was only clumsy around people she found attractive, particularly dark-haired French bookshop owners with soulful eyes. Or she could take the safer route.
“I'm a regular butterfingers,” she said with a rueful smile. “Always have been. You should have seen me in school, a walking catastrophe.”
Eveline laughed. “It's oddly endearing, actually.”
Emery felt her pulse speed up. “That's one way to look at it, I suppose. Most people just find it annoying.”
“I'm not most people,” Eveline.
Their eyes met, and Emery felt suddenly breathless.
AS THE PARTY began to wind down, Emery stepped outside onto the street for a breath of fresh air. The night was cool but not cold. She leaned against the front window of the bakery, letting the sounds of the party fade behind her.
“Too crowded in there for you?”
Emery turned to find Eveline, two glasses of water in hand. She offered one to Emery.
“A bit,” Emery said. “I had fun, though. It's nice seeing everyone outside the shop.”
“It is,” Eveline said, leaning beside her. They stood in silence for a moment, their shoulders nearly touching.
“You seem different tonight,” Emery said eventually, before she could think better of it.
“Different?”
“More relaxed. Happier, maybe.”
Eveline thought about this. “Perhaps I am. It's… been a while since I got out.”
“Why?” Emery asked, then immediately backtracked. “Sorry, that's none of my business.”
“No, it's alright.” Eveline's gaze was distant now, looking across the street. “I suppose I've just gotten used to keeping to myself. It feels safer that way.”
Emery wanted to ask what Eveline needed to feel safe from, but knew better than to push. Instead, she shifted slightly, her hand accidentally brushing against Eveline's.
Neither of them moved away. The contact sent tingles up Emery's arm. She held her breath, afraid that the slightest movement would break the moment.
Eveline turned toward her, dark eyes searching Emery's face. The intensity of her gaze made Emery's heart pound. She felt herself leaning in, almost imperceptibly, drawn by some invisible force.
But then Eveline stiffened, her eyes darting to something across the street. The color drained from her face as she stepped away, breaking the contact between their hands.
“Eveline?” Emery asked, confused by the sudden shift. “What's wrong?”
Eveline shook her head. “Nothing, I just… I thought I saw someone I knew.”
Emery followed her gaze to a man crossing the street, his collar turned up against the cool air. “Who?”
“It doesn't matter,” Eveline said, but her voice was tight.
Emery hesitated, then tentatively placed her hand on Eveline's arm. “Are you okay?”
Eveline took a deep breath. “Yes, I'm fine. It's silly, really. For a second, I thought I saw… someone from my past.” She took a breath. “My ex-husband.”
Emery's eyebrows shot up fast enough they might have left her head. “I didn't know you were married.”
“Briefly,” Eveline said, her voice flat.
Emery ached to know more. “I'm sorry,” she said.
Eveline was quiet for long enough that Emery thought she might not continue.
But then she spoke. “He was a writer. Charming, talented. I was young and na?ve enough to believe he loved me for who I was.” She paused.
“What he really loved were the stories I told him. The ones from my childhood, my family, my heart. I would tell him these things in the dark, thinking I was sharing myself with someone who cared.”
Emery swallowed. “What happened?”
“He published them,” Eveline said. “All of them, twisted and reshaped, but recognizable to anyone who knew me. Made himself famous with my pain, my memories. And when I confronted him…” She trailed off.
“He denied it,” Emery guessed, her stomach knotting with dread.
“Worse. He laughed. Said I should be flattered he found any use for my 'little anecdotes.'” Eveline’s hands had balled into fists. “That's when I left. Came to London, started over.”
Emery felt sick. No wonder Eveline was so wary of romance, of trusting people. “That's terrible,” she said, the words completely inadequate. “He sounds like a monster.”
Eveline shrugged, though the gesture didn't hide the tension in her shoulders. “It was a long time ago.”
Emery wanted to reach for Eveline's hand again, to offer comfort, but she was paralyzed by guilt. Her secret identity hung between them, suddenly more damning than ever.
“Some wounds take a long time to heal,” she said.
Eveline looked at her then, a complicated emotion in her dark eyes. “Yes, they do.”
The door opened, and Maya poked her head out. “There you two are! I'm cutting the cake, you don’t want to miss it!”
“We'll be right in,” Eveline said, her mask slipping back into place so quickly that Emery might have imagined the vulnerability of a moment ago.
As they followed Maya inside, Emery felt the weight of her deception more heavily than ever. She was no better than Eveline's ex, using her for material without permission. Worse, perhaps, because she knew better now, knew what that betrayal would mean to Eveline.
But as she watched Eveline laugh at Maya's cake-cutting antics, Emery knew she couldn't walk away. Not yet. Not when just the brush of their hands could make her feel more alive than she had in years.
She was in too deep, and falling deeper by the minute. What was she supposed to do?