Chapter Thirty-Four
Eveline tucked her arm through Abe's as they strolled along the quiet street.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the pavement, and Abe leaned on his cane more heavily than he would have admitted.
His recovery had been steady but slow, and Eveline found herself automatically adjusting her stride to match his careful pace.
“Thank you for accompanying me to the bookshop,” he said, his breathing slightly labored. “The doctor says walking is good for my recovery, but I'm not supposed to go alone. Something about 'fall risks.'” He rolled his eyes, the familiar twinkle had returned.
“I'm happy to walk with you,” Eveline said, slowing her pace further when she noticed him struggling with a steeper section of pavement.
“Though I'm not sure why you insisted on coming to the shop on a Sunday when we're closed.” She'd been planning a quiet day of reading and perhaps working on that letter she still hadn't quite managed to perfect.
“I left a book there that I simply must have,” Abe said, his face a mask of innocence that Eveline found immediately suspicious. The expression reminded her of a child hiding a biscuit behind his back. “Very important poetry. Can't wait until Monday.”
“If you say so,” Eveline replied, giving him a sideways glance. He'd been oddly insistent about the timing, about taking this specific route. In fact, now that she thought about it, he'd refused her offer to simply retrieve the book for him, claiming he needed the exercise.
As they turned the corner onto her street, Eveline heard a commotion up ahead.
A small crowd had gathered near the railway bridge that spanned the road just a block from The Turned Page.
She squinted, trying to make out what was happening.
People were pointing upward, others had phones out, recording whatever spectacle was unfolding.
Suddenly, the air erupted with light and sound.
Colorful sparks shot upward and burst against the afternoon sky, fireworks in broad daylight, their brilliant explosions somehow visible even against the sun's glare.
Eveline gaped as a massive banner unfurled from the bridge railing, fluttering in the breeze.
I LOVE YOU
The words, written in bold red letters large enough to be seen from where they stood, made her heart stutter in her chest. The handwriting looked strangely familiar.
“What on earth—” she began, but was cut off by the sudden blast of music from speakers that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The opening notes of “Can't Take My Eyes Off You” filled the street, bouncing off storefronts and drawing even more curious onlookers from nearby houses.
Before she could process what was happening, a group of people, at least twenty of them, burst into coordinated movement. A flash mob, right there in the middle of the street, dancing to the upbeat love song that Eveline recognized from a dozen different romantic comedies.
“Abe… what’s going on?” she asked. But his face showed none of the surprise that should accompany such an unusual sight in their quiet neighborhood.
Abe was beaming, looking not at all confused by the spectacle. “Art, my dear,” he said cryptically, patting her hand where it rested on his arm. “Beautiful, chaotic art. And a wee bit of love too, if I’m not mistaken.”
Among the dancers, a familiar face caught Eveline's eye. “Is that… Zara?” The young woman's dark ponytail swung as she executed a particularly complicated turn.
Sure enough, her part-time employee was front and center, dancing with surprising grace, a huge grin plastered across her face. When she spotted Eveline, she winked without missing a beat, never faltering in the choreography.
“Abe,” Eveline said slowly, suspicion dawning as she took in his knowing smile and the obviously coordinated chaos before her. “What exactly is happening here?”
Abe's eyes twinkled with mischief. “I believe, my dear, that someone is trying to tell you something rather important.”
???
Emery paced the length of the bookshop, nerves making her clumsy as she nearly toppled a carefully arranged tower of books that had taken Mrs. Hampton and Ollie over an hour to construct into a heart shape.
“Careful,” Mrs. Hampton said, steadying the display with surprisingly quick reflexes.
“Sorry,” Emery mumbled, running her hands through her curls for the dozenth time that hour, making them stand up in all directions like a startled hedgehog. Around her, the entire Romance Book Club bustled about, putting finishing touches on the transformed space. The shop was barely recognizable.
Flowers covered every surface, roses in every shade from deepest crimson to palest pink, lilies, daisies, peonies, their combined scent almost overwhelming in the enclosed space.
Maya had ordered them all, insisting that nothing less than a botanical garden's worth would suffice for a proper grand gesture.
Fairy lights had been strung across the ceiling, twinkling like stars despite the daylight streaming through the windows, and a small podium had been erected near the front of the shop, facing rows of chairs where the book club members would soon sit.
The bell over the door jangled, and Jax burst in, slightly breathless, her tattooed arms glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
“Zara's flash mob’s almost done,” she panted, peering out the front window with the intensity of a military scout.
“They're on the final chorus. Eveline looks completely stunned, in a good way, I think.
Abe's playing his part perfectly, the crafty old coot.”
“Oh god,” Emery groaned, stomach churning so violently she was afraid she might throw up on Mrs. Hampton's sensible shoes. “This is really happening.”
“Too late to back out now,” Domi said briskly, adjusting the microphone on the podium and testing it with a tap that made everyone wince. “The permits for those fireworks cost a fortune. And the noise violation fine we'll probably get will cost even more.”
“Right,” Emery said, squaring her shoulders and trying to channel some of the confidence she wrote into her heroines. “Umbrella. I need the umbrella.”
“Here,” Maya handed her a large black umbrella, practically shoving it into her trembling hands. “And don't worry, Ollie's truck is in position. He’s quite excited about his role, wouldn't stop talking about 'cinematic rain sequences' when he was setting up the water tank.”
Emery gripped the umbrella's handle, took a deep breath that did nothing to calm her racing heart, and headed for the door. “Wish me luck.”
“You don't need luck,” Jax said, giving her a gentle push between the shoulder blades. “You've got love and an extremely elaborate plan that absolutely cannot go wrong in any way!”
The flash mob was reaching its finale as Emery slipped out the front door, umbrella clutched to her chest like a shield. She spotted Eveline immediately, standing on the pavement with Abe, looking bewildered and beautiful, her dark hair catching the late afternoon light.
Emery's heart hammered against her ribs so hard she was sure it would bruise. There was no turning back now.
As the dancers struck their final pose, Ollie's delivery truck rumbled into view, right on cue. Emery dashed forward, almost tripping in her haste, snapping open the umbrella and thrusting it into Eveline's hands before she could even register what was happening.
“Wha—Emery?” Eveline's eyes widened in shock.
Before she could say more, Ollie flipped a switch inside the truck cab, and water sprayed from a contraption attached to the truck's roof, cascading down around them like artificial rain, catching the sunlight in countless tiny rainbows.
Emery stood before Eveline, already getting soaked as the water fell, deliberately positioning herself just outside the umbrella's protection. Her carefully chosen white shirt was rapidly becoming transparent, but she couldn't bring herself to care about that particular oversight in her planning.
“I know this is completely insane,” she began, raising her voice to be heard over the spray of water and the murmurs of the gathering crowd. “But you deserve insane. You deserve epic. You deserve every grand gesture I could think of, all at once.”
Water plastered her curls to her forehead, ran down her face in rivulets, soaked through her shirt until she could feel the chill against her skin, but Emery barely noticed.
All she could see was Eveline, standing dry beneath the umbrella, dark eyes wide with astonishment, lips slightly parted in a way that made Emery want to kiss her more than anything.
“I lied to you, and I hurt you, and I'm so, so sorry,” Emery continued, her voice catching on the words.
“I was afraid to tell you who I was because I thought you'd reject me, and then I fell in love with you, and telling you the truth became even scarier because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you.”
Water dripped from her chin, her fingers, the hem of her now-transparent shirt. Around them, a small crowd had collected, watching the spectacle with fascination. Someone was filming with their phone. Emery vaguely registered Zara trying to block them.
“But not telling you was worse,” Emery said. “Because deception has no place in love. You taught me that. And I love you, Eveline. I love your passion for books, your skepticism, your reluctant smiles, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you're anxious. I love you.”
Right on cue, Abe suddenly clutched at his chest and staggered dramatically, leaning heavily on his cane.
“Oh dear,” he gasped, wobbling on his feet with theatrical unsteadiness. “I feel quite faint. Must be the excitement. Or perhaps the water on my old bones.”
Eveline turned immediately, concern replacing shock on her face. “Abe, we need to get you inside. Now.”
She gripped his arm, guiding him toward the bookshop, the umbrella forgotten as her protective instincts took over. Emery scrambled to follow. Abe winked at her behind Eveline's back, looking far too pleased with himself for someone supposedly on the verge of collapse.
As Eveline pushed open the door to The Turned Page, she froze on the threshold.
The shop had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale or the climactic scene of every romantic movie ever made.
Flowers everywhere, twinkling lights, and the entire Romance Book Club seated in neat rows, all turning to look at them as they entered.
Maya stood at the back, holding a tray of heart-shaped pastries that seemed to be steaming slightly.
“Surprise!” Emery said weakly, water pooling around her feet on the hardwood floor, making a puddle that would probably warp the wood. Another detail she hadn't considered.
Abe straightened up, suddenly appearing much steadier. “Would you look at that,” he said, chuckling. “I feel better already. Amazing what a change of scenery can do.”
Eveline turned to him, comprehension dawning in her dark eyes. “You were faking.”
“I was acting,” Abe corrected with dignity, straightening his cardigan. “There's a difference.”
Before Eveline could respond, Emery, still dripping wet, rushed past her to the small podium. The microphone squealed slightly as she adjusted it with shaking hands.
“Hi,” she said to the room at large, then focused solely on Eveline, who stood framed in the doorway, looking like she might turn and run at any moment. “I'm sure you're wondering what all this is about.”
“I have some idea,” Eveline said faintly, still standing by the door, one hand gripping the frame as if for support.
“I wanted to do something spectacular,” Emery continued, water from her hair dripping into her eyes. She wiped it away impatiently. “Something worthy of a romance novel ending. Because that's who I am, I write romance. I believe in grand gestures and public declarations and love that conquers all.”
She gripped the edges of the podium, water from her sleeves dripping onto the wood, probably ruining the finish. Another oversight.
“But I also know that's not who you are. You're practical and private and skeptical of happily-ever-afters. And I love that about you. I love that we're different.”
Emery took a deep breath. “So I want you to know that I'm willing to change. If you give me another chance, I'll give up writing romance novels.”
A collective gasp rose from the Romance Book Club members. Mrs. Hampton looked like she might faint for real.
“I'll work on something more literary,” Emery went on, the words tumbling out before she could reconsider. “Something worthy of the front display in your shop. Something with substance and depth and not a single heaving bosom. Because you're more important to me than any book I could write.”
She stepped out from behind the podium, moved forward until she was standing directly in front of Eveline, and then, in front of everyone, dropped to her knees on the carpet.
Water dripped from her hair, her clothes, forming a small puddle around her as she kneeled. She looked up at Eveline, blue eyes filled with hope and fear and so much love it made her chest ache with the force of it.
“Eveline Auclair,” she said, voice breaking. “Forgive me.”