Chapter Twenty-Two
“So what exactly is the plan here?” Jax asked, stirring her coffee with unnecessary vigor. “You and Eveline get married, have two kids and a dog, and you never tell her who you actually are?”
Emery winced, glancing around the small cafe. “Could you keep your voice down? And no one said anything about marriage.”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” Jax said, leaning forward. “Is that not where this is heading? Because from everything you've told me, you're falling hard for this woman.”
Emery stared down at her untouched cappuccino. “I know it's complicated.”
“Complicated?” Jax said. “Em, you're sleeping with a woman who thinks you're just a bookshop assistant when you're actually the bestselling romance novelist she used to trash on a regular basis. That's not complicated, that's a disaster waiting to happen.”
“I know, I know.” Emery sighed. “Maybe I could… I don't know… pass the name to someone else? Retire Emerald Pearl and just be Emery Parker forever?”
“Now I know you've lost your mind. You can't just hand off your pen name to someone else like it's a used car. And even if you could, is that really the solution? Living a lie forever?”
“It's not a lie,” Emery said weakly. “I am Emery Parker. That's my real name. Emerald Pearl is just… a part of me I haven't shared yet.”
“A pretty significant part,” Jax pointed out. “Your career? Your passion? The thing that pays your bills?”
Emery sighed. “Every time I try to tell her, something happens. The moment never seems right.”
“That's a weak excuse and you know it.” Jax reached across the table to take Emery's hand. “Look, I get it. You're scared. But the longer you wait, the worse it's going to be when she finds out. And she will find out, Em. Secrets like this always come to light.”
“I'm not just scared,” Emery said. “I'm terrified. You didn't see her face when she talked about her ex-husband, how he stole her stories. If she thinks I've been using her for material…”
“Are you using her for material?” Jax asked, her expression suddenly serious.
“No!” Emery said immediately, then hesitated. “I mean, yes, she inspired me. She broke my writer's block. There's definitely elements of her in my new book. But that's not why I'm with her. That's not why I…” She trailed off.
“Why you what?” Jax prompted.
Emery took a deep breath. “Why I love her.”
Jax's expression softened. “Oh, dear.”
“I know it's too soon to say that,” Emery said. “We've only known each other for a few weeks. But I've never felt like this before, Jax. Never. And the thought of losing her…”
“Which is exactly why you need to tell her the truth,” Jax said. “If you really love her, she deserves to know who you are. All of you.”
Emery nodded, blinking back unexpected tears. “You're right. I'll tell her today.”
“Promise?” Jax asked.
“I promise,” Emery said. “No more excuses.”
They parted with a hug, and Emery checked her watch. Still time before she needed to be at the shop. Time to walk and gather her thoughts, to figure out exactly what she would say to Eveline.
How did you tell someone that you'd been lying to them since the day you met? That you were, in fact, the author whose work they had once denounced? That you'd written a book inspired by them without their knowledge?
By the time she turned onto the street where The Turned Page stood, her palms were sweaty and her heart was racing. She was going to do this. She had to.
???
Eveline was arranging a new window display when a sharp knock on the shop door startled her. She glanced at her watch with a frown. Still fifteen minutes until opening time.
The knocking came again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, she set down the book she'd been placing and moved to the door.
But when she saw who stood on the other side of the glass, the words died in her throat.
He looked much the same as he had when she'd left Paris. Handsome in that carefully cultivated way of his, with styled dark hair streaked with silver at the temples and the same dark green eyes that had once charmed her so completely.
Charles.
For a moment, Eveline contemplated pretending she hadn't seen him. But he’d already spotted her, his face breaking into that familiar smile that now made her skin crawl.
Reluctantly, she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to speak.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Eveline,” he said, her name sounding wrong in his mouth after all these years. “You look wonderful.”
“What do you want, Charles?” she repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the sudden racing of her heart. She spoke English with him, like it would help her stay detached, help remind her that they weren’t the same anymore.
He pursed his lips. “May I come in? It's rather chilly out here.”
She hesitated, then stepped back, allowing him into the shop but not moving toward the cozy seating area. Let him stand awkwardly among the bookshelves.
“I'm in town for a literary festival,” he said, glancing around the shop. “Someone mentioned your bookshop, and I thought… well, I thought it was time we talked.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” Eveline crossed her arms.
“I disagree,” Charles said. “It's been years, Eveline. Don't you think it's time to put the past behind us?”
She laughed and not in a good way. “Put the past behind us? You mean forget how you stole my stories? How you built your career on my pain?”
“I didn't steal—” he began, then stopped himself. “That's not how I saw it at the time. But I understand now why you felt that way.”
“How generous of you,” she said.
“I want to make amends,” he said, taking a step closer. “I've changed, Eveline. The success, the fame… it went to my head back then. I was selfish, thoughtless.”
“And now you're what? Enlightened?” She shook her head. “Why are you really here, Charles?”
Something flickered in his eyes. A calculation, a recalibration. “I miss you,” he said finally. “Is that so hard to believe?”
It was, actually. Charles had never missed anyone except when they were useful to him.
“I'm seeing someone,” she said, the words coming out before she'd fully formed the thought.
His eyebrows rose slightly. “Ah. Well, that doesn't mean we can't be… friends. At least give me the chance to apologize properly. Have dinner with me tonight.”
“I don't think—”
“Just dinner,” he said. “For old times' sake. To clear the air. Then if you never want to see me again, I'll respect that.”
Eveline studied him, trying to see beyond the charming exterior to whatever his true motives might be. She wasn't the na?ve young woman she'd been in Paris. She'd learned from her mistakes.
And yet, a small part of her wanted this, wanted to sit across from Charles as equals, to show him that she'd not only survived his betrayal but thrived.
“One dinner,” she said finally. “That's it.”
Relief spread across his face. “Thank you. Shall we say eight o'clock? I'm staying at The Savoy. There's an excellent restaurant—”
“Not The Savoy,” she interrupted. “I'll meet you at Luciano's. Seven-thirty.”
He nodded. “I'll make a reservation.”
“Fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to open the shop.”
Charles handed her a business card. “My number, in case anything changes.” He smiled again. “It's good to see you, Eveline.”
She said nothing, merely holding the door open pointedly until he departed. When he was finally gone, she leaned against the counter, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.
What had she been thinking, agreeing to dinner? But perhaps this was an opportunity, a chance to finally close that chapter of her life completely.
The bell above the door jingled, and Eveline looked up to see Emery, cheeks flushed from the cool morning air.
The sight of her, familiar, real, steadied Eveline immediately.
“Hey,” Emery said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Eveline moved toward her. “Charles is back,” she said.
Emery's expression changed instantly from nervous to concerned. “Your ex? Here in London?”
Eveline nodded. “He was just here. In the shop. He wants to 'make amends,'” she said, making air quotes with her fingers.
“Are you okay?” Emery asked, putting her arms around Eveline.
The embrace was so natural, so comforting, that Eveline felt her tension begin to dissolve. “I'm fine,” she said, resting her head on Emery's shoulder. “Just shocked. I didn’t expect to see him again.”
“What did he want?” Emery asked.
“To apologize, supposedly.” Eveline pulled back slightly. “I, um, agreed to have dinner with him tonight.”
Emery's eyebrows shot up. “Dinner? With the guy who stole your stories?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” Eveline said. “But I think I need this. Closure, maybe. To show him that he doesn't have any power over me anymore.” She hesitated. She hadn’t thought to ask. “You don't mind, do you?”
“Mind?” Emery shook her head. “It's not for me to mind. I just want to make sure you're okay.” Her expression grew serious. “Do you want me to come with you? I could sit at another table, maybe wear a fake mustache and dark glasses…”
Eveline laughed. “As entertaining as that would be, I think I need to do this alone.” She touched Emery's cheek. “But thank you for offering.” She stroked Emery’s cheekbone with her thumb. “What did you need to talk to me about?”
Emery hesitated, something flashing across her face too quickly for Eveline to interpret. “Nothing important,” she said finally. “It can wait.”
“Sure?”
“Positive,” Emery said. “You’ve got bigger things to be dealing with today.”
“You are what the English like to call a breath of fresh air,” Eveline said, pulling Emery a little closer. “Not jealous, not over-protective, and here I am building defenses just for you to come and crash right through them.”
“Do I do that?” Emery said.
“In amongst crashing into plenty of other things,” Eveline grinned. “And I’ve got nothing to fear from Charles, not when you’re around anyway.”
Emery said nothing to this, just pulled Eveline back into her arms until the shop door rattled and Zara started banging on it, demanding to know why they weren’t open yet.