Chapter Thirty-Five
Emery remained on her knees, water pooling around her on the carpet, heart hammering so loudly she was certain everyone in the shop could hear it. Eveline stood before her, face unreadable, the silence stretching between them like an eternity.
Then, just as Eveline opened her mouth to speak, a strange sound drifted through the open door. The distinct clip-clop of hooves on pavement, followed by a gentle whinnying.
Mrs. Hampton was the first to react. “What on earth?”
“Is that a horse?” someone else asked.
The entire Romance Book Club surged toward the windows, followed by Maya, Jax, and even Domi, who'd been watching proceedings with uncharacteristic emotion. Emery remained frozen in place, still kneeling, still soaked, still waiting for an answer that now seemed indefinitely delayed.
“Oh my,” Maya gasped, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “It's magnificent!”
“You've got to be kidding me,” Jax said, shaking her head in disbelief.
Eveline turned away from Emery to see what had captured everyone's attention, and Emery finally found the strength to rise to her feet, legs still wobbling.
Outside, parked directly in front of The Turned Page, was a white horse-drawn carriage.
Not a simple cart, but an elegant Victorian affair, complete with lanterns and plush velvet seats.
The white horse at its head tossed his mane importantly, as if aware he was the center of attention.
A driver in period costume sat at the reins, looking remarkably like Ollie's cousin from the drama school across town.
Abe chuckled beside them, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Ah, right on time,” he said.
Emery turned to him, mouth agape. “Abe, what did you do?”
“I told you I wanted to contribute something special,” he said. “My Agnes always loved a carriage ride. Said there was something undeniably romantic about traveling the way lovers did before automobiles spoiled everything.”
He gestured toward the door with his cane. “Well, don't just stand there, you two. He's only booked for an hour, and those horses don't work cheap.”
“But—” Emery said, then stopped, unsure what to say. Her carefully orchestrated grand gesture had just been hijacked by a surprisingly theatrical octogenarian.
“It's perfect,” Abe whispered to her. “Neither of you can run away from a carriage. You'll have to talk.”
Eveline, who had been watching this exchange in silence, suddenly spoke. “A carriage ride,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “I see.”
“If you don't want to—” Emery began.
“No,” Eveline interrupted. “I think Abe is right. We do need to talk. Properly.” She glanced around the shop, at the eager faces of the Romance Book Club members, at Maya's hopeful expression, at Jax's encouraging thumbs-up. “Somewhere more private than this.”
Relief flooded through Emery. Eveline hadn't exactly answered her plea for forgiveness, but she hadn't outright rejected it either. That had to count for something.
“Your grand gesture isn't quite complete,” Eveline said, her eyes finally meeting Emery's directly. “Shall we?”
Without waiting for an answer, she walked out the door. Emery scrambled to follow, still dripping, her clothes clinging uncomfortably to her body. Outside, the horse snorted as they approached, steam rising from its nostrils in the cool evening air.
“This is ridiculous,” Emery murmured, partly to herself.
“And yet entirely fitting,” Eveline said.
The driver tipped his hat and jumped down to help them into the carriage. Emery clambered in first, inelegant in her wet clothes, followed by Eveline, who managed to make the awkward climb look graceful.
As they settled onto the plush velvet seat, Emery realized with a jolt that Abe had arranged for heated blankets, which the driver now offered with a flourish.
“To ward off the chill,” he said, with a pointed look at Emery's soaked shirt that made her glad she’d chosen a full-coverage bra.
“Thank you,” Eveline said, accepting one and spreading it across her lap.
Emery took the other, wrapping it around her shoulders, grateful for its warmth against her damp skin. The carriage lurched forward, the horse's hooves creating a soothing rhythm on the pavement as they began to move away from the shop.
Through the window, Emery could see the Romance Book Club members spilling out onto the sidewalk, waving and cheering. Maya blew kisses, Zara was filming everything on her phone, and Mrs. Hampton looked like she was going to swoon from the sheer romance of it all.
Then they turned a corner, and the shop disappeared from view. They were alone.
Emery clutched the blanket tighter, suddenly nervous again. Eveline sat beside her, close enough to touch but maintaining a careful distance, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the steady clip-clop of the horse's hooves.
“I've made a complete fool of myself, haven't I?” Emery finally said, unable to bear the quiet any longer.
Eveline turned to look at her then, her expression softening. “A charming fool,” she said. “But a fool nonetheless.”
Emery's heart sank. “I'm sorry. I just wanted—”
“To do something spectacular,” Eveline finished for her. “Yes, I gathered that from the fireworks, the flash mob, the artificial rain, and now this.” She gestured at the carriage around them.
“Too much?” Emery asked in a small voice.
“Far too much,” Eveline agreed, but there was a hint of something in her voice that wasn't quite disapproval. “But then, you've always been excessive. Knocking over entire displays when a single book would do. Spilling entire cups of coffee rather than just a drop.”
Emery ducked her head, embarrassed, but then felt Eveline's hand on hers, warm and solid through the blanket.
“Emery, look at me,” Eveline said.
She raised her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might see, but found Eveline looking at her with such warmth that it made her breath catch.
“I owe you an apology,” Eveline said softly.
Of all the things Emery had expected to hear, this was not one of them. “You? Apologize to me? But I'm the one who—”
“Yes, you lied,” Eveline said. “And that was wrong. But my reaction…” She sighed. “I was harsh. Too harsh. I was letting past experiences cloud my judgment. I couldn't see the differences between what Charles did and what you did because I was too afraid of being hurt again.”
She squeezed Emery's hand. “I don't approve of the lying. I wish you had told me the truth from the beginning. But I understand what happened. How one small omission became harder and harder to correct.”
Emery nodded, hope beginning to flicker in her chest. “I should have told you. Every day I didn't tell you made it worse.”
“Yes,” Eveline agreed. “But I should have given you a chance to explain. Instead, I shut you out. Immediately. Completely.” She shook her head. “I've had a lot of time to think these past weeks. About what you mean to me. About how you've changed my life in better, brighter ways.”
The carriage trundled through the quiet streets, passing under trees that cast dappled shadows across their faces in the fading evening light. In the distance, church bells chimed the hour.
“The shop feels empty without you,” Eveline said. “The customers miss you. Zara keeps looking at the door whenever the bell rings, like she's expecting you to tumble in and knock over a display.” She smiled. “I keep finding myself doing the same.”
Emery's throat tightened. “I miss it too. The shop. The people.” She paused, gathering her courage. “You. I miss you most of all.”
Eveline sighed, frustrated. “I'm making a mess of this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope, slightly crumpled at the edges. “Here. I've been trying to write this for days.”
Emery took it with trembling fingers. Inside was a single sheet of paper covered in Eveline's elegant handwriting. But as she began to read, she frowned in confusion.
“There's a small problem,” she said, looking up, worried that she was about to break things once and for all. “I, um, don't really speak much French.”
Eveline let out a soft laugh, the sound warming Emery from the inside out. “Perhaps that's for the best. It's probably horribly sentimental.” She took the letter back, folding it carefully and returning it to her bag. “I suppose I'll have to show you what it means instead.”
And then Eveline was leaning forward, closing the distance between them, her hand coming up to cup Emery's cheek. She paused, just a breath away, her eyes asking a question.
“Yes,” Emery whispered, though Eveline hadn't spoken.
Their lips met, soft and tentative at first, then with growing confidence.
Emery melted into the kiss, her hands finding Eveline's waist, pulling her closer despite the awkward angle and the blankets between them.
It felt like coming home, like finding a missing piece of herself, like every cliché she'd ever written and a thousand more she hadn't yet found words for.
When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Eveline kept her hand on Emery's cheek. “There is a condition,” she said.
“Anything,” Emery said without hesitation. “I promise to always be honest from now on. No more secrets.”
“Two conditions, then,” Eveline said, the corner of her mouth curving upward. “Yes, we must be honest with each other. But also…” She looked at Emery seriously. “You can never give up writing romance novels.”
“What?” Emery blinked in surprise. “But I thought—”
“That I hate romance?” Eveline shook her head.
“I was wrong about many things. And you should never sacrifice your passion, your talent, for anyone. Not even me.” She tucked a damp curl behind Emery's ear, her touch lingering.
“Besides, I've developed a certain… appreciation for the genre recently.”
“You like romance now?” Emery asked with a grin.
“Let's say I could get used to it,” Eveline said with a small smile. “With the right teacher.”
Emery laughed, joy bubbling up inside her like champagne. “I think that can be arranged.”
This time when they kissed, it was Emery who leaned in first, pouring all her love and relief and happiness into the connection between them.
Outside, pedestrians stopped to stare at the unusual sight of a horse-drawn carriage parading through the London streets, its passengers oblivious to everything but each other.
Inside, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, Emery and Eveline found their own happily-ever-after, proving once and for all that sometimes, life really could be just like a romance novel.
And that was a truth worth believing in.