Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Adelaide
“What do you think?” Brianna asks as I’m checking out all my holds that came in at the same time. “I’m picturing a partnership with Beaver Tales. They already have all your books so we could sell them here, and also have a table for people to check them out.”
“I’ve never taught writing before,” I say, adding eight books to my already stuffed tote bag. “I don’t even know if I know how.”
She shrugs, then adds a stack of books on the desk into the book cart next to her. “Think about it, okay? It’d be fun to set something up for the fall.”
“I will, thanks,” I say.
“You could even bring your author boyfriend with you,” she adds with a little smirk, “teach the class together.”
I laugh and wave as I walk off, shoulder weighed down by all the books.
I do think about it. Teaching with Zander sounds nice. I can picture us working together, talking about what works for us and how people can apply that to their own writing lives. The only question is: would anyone in town want to learn from him?
I’ve heard some rumblings from the town council. Rumours fly. Everyone thinks they know who Zander is. I’ve caught snippets of gossip at the library, the bakery, the ice cream shop, even the bathroom at The Dam Drunkard. They all go quiet when they notice me.
They think I don’t know Jordan Porter, the bitter old man who's furious he lost the town's mayoral race to a woman a couple years ago, is heading the witch hunt against my boyfriend. It’s his newest unhinged cause.
I swallow back emotion threatening to overtake me in the middle of the children’s section. I lean against a blue shelf that comes up to my waist, pretending to be interested in the latest Dog Man installment. I flip through the pages, lingering on an orange cat who looks less than impressed. Same.
When I have a handle on myself, I put the book down and spot a man I would rather leave in the past. I unintentionally groan.
Daniel would likely petition the council to kick Zander out as well.
Right now, he’s chatting with one of his coworkers.
Her back is to me, long dark waves snaking down her spine.
If I had to guess, it’s Wren, the children’s librarian.
God, I hope he’s not flirting with her. She just got back with her kid’s father and it is so not the time.
Of course, as I linger on this thought, he laughs, ends the conversation, and makes direct eye contact with me.
Oh, crap.
It’s too late to walk away, so I just smile politely while he casually rushes over. I have to make an effort not to roll my eyes at how hard he’s trying to be nonchalant.
“Hey!” I say with a lame wave when he winds up just a little too close to me. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh, I’m good. I’m good. It’s nice to see you! Are you—How about you?”
“I’m doing well, yeah,” I say, taking a step back. “Brianna just offered me a job.”
“Here? You’re going to be a page or something?”
I give him a light, fake laugh. “No. Just for, like, an event kind of thing. Teaching writing. She was talking about looping a few other authors in. It sounded fun.”
“You think you could do it? You’ve never taught anything before.”
I suck my lower lip between my teeth. I don’t like his tone or the way his eyes narrow, as if he’s sizing me up. I almost want to run up to Brianna and agree just to spite him.
“I’m sure we could figure it out,” I reply tightly.
Daniel adjusts his thin glasses that I still swear to God are only for the aesthetic. “Who’s we? Us?”
“Oh, no, not you.” I say, and his face falls. “I meant the authors.”
“Right. Right. Same ones from earlier this summer?” I bounce on my heels and shrug. “Hey, it’s none of my business but—”
“Why are you asking if it’s none of your business?”
“Whoa, no need to get defensive.” He shows me his palms, and this time, I do roll my eyes. “I just know you don’t want to hear it. You never take advice well.”
I huff, glance down at my watch, then back to him. “What do you want?”
“I know I’m not the only one who’s worried about you. You just…you like to see the best in people, but sometimes they don’t deserve it.”
“What does that say about you?” I ask. I cannot deal with this from every side. “Because I did try to see good in you and when we broke up, I got hurt. Does that make you undeserving or a terrible person?”
“Well, no, but I’m not the one who got arrested for—”
“For something thirteen years ago that you’re hearing about through the town grapevine.” I inhale deeply and flip my hair out of my face. “Look, it’s very nice of you to be concerned, but I’m fine. I’m a big girl and I can make my own decisions.”
Daniel doesn’t say anything. He slowly crosses his arms over his chest and nods. “Okay.”
We walk away without any further conversation, him into the library, and me out the front doors.
I feel like Nicole Kidman the second the wind hits me, screaming into the abyss after her divorce from Tom Cruise.
And that’s only partially because my eyes land on my beloved bakery right across the street.
I deserve a little treat.
I start down the steps, the wind whipping me from both sides, setting me off balance with so many books hanging off one arm.
I whoop as my tartan skirt gets picked up, showing the world the tan biker shorts I have on underneath.
I stop under the curve of a lamppost, made to look like an old gas lamp.
I should probably drop the books in my car before I go pick up a cake but—
“Zander!” I call across the street.
He freezes just outside the door of the bakery, a large cardboard box in his hands.
The checkered curtain flaps when the door slams behind him.
He’s in his uniform of a black shirt and shorts, with only a sprinkle of colour from another pair of socks I made for him.
A moment of confusion crosses his features, before he absolutely lights up.
“Hey,” he says once he’s on my side of the street. He gives me a chaste peck on the lips. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re flushed,” he says, balancing his baked good under one arm, then reaching out to smooth the line between my brows. “Looks like something’s pissing you off.”
I smile for him, and the fact that he sees me. “I’m good. What’re you doing here?”
“Gran wants to renovate her backyard. She’s thinking of putting in a pergola or swing.
She wanted me to give my educated opinion.
” He shrugs, shifting the box back to both hands and showing me the preview window on top.
“I was here so I thought you might need more cake. You finished yours two days ago, right?”
I inspect his offering. It’s an eight-inch round in purple ombre with swirls around the border.
“Ooh, she’s pretty! What is it?”
“It’s a vanilla sponge with something called Chantilly cream and berries between the layers. Apparently someone ordered it, then cancelled last minute, which is why it’s so purple. They were glad I took it off their hands.”
“Rest assured, I will put it to good use. You coming home?”
It’s another moment where I catch him off guard, until the joy transforms his features. We take my car, drive in pleasant silence, and wind up in my driveway just as Willow steps out.
“Your dad told me to call if I ever see him here,” Willow spits.
Wonderful. Starting strong.
“So my dad is trying to police my decisions at my own house through the squatter who doesn’t pay rent. Got it.”
Willow’s eyes flash. She clutches the strap of her expensive purse, then pulls out her phone as if it’s a threat.
“I’ll call him.”
“Good. Do it. I don’t care.”
I’ve never felt so immature in my entire life. Willow always brings out the best in me. I grit my teeth and stare at her, willing her to make the call. Zander slides out of the passenger seat and stands. He leans against the frame of the car, watching the two of us stand off.
“Maybe we should take a breath,” Zander says, opening his arms to show just how non-threatening he is. “It’s not a huge deal. I can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”
Willow blinks, as if she wasn’t expecting that answer, then laughs. “You’re right, you make me uncomfortable. People like you shouldn’t be free to be wherever they want.”
“I deserve that,” Zander says. He visibly deflates. The dimples in his cheeks morph into deep-set frown lines. All I want to do is hug him. “I can’t take back what I did, Willow, but I promise you I am not that man anymore.”
“People don’t change.” She scoffs, then turns her attention back to me. “He’s gaslighting you.”
“Buzzword,” I mutter under my breath, then louder, “What makes you so certain of that? Why are you so convinced that he’s bad?”
“Because people don’t change. You’re delusional if you think he’s anything other than an abuser.”
“You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through.”
“Neither do you! You only know what he’s told you.”
“I know what he’s told me, yes. But I’ve also read all the records and news stories, all the data I could get my hands on…
I know his grandma, personally, and she vouches for him.
This little old lady hanging out with someone who you’ve deemed dangerous because you can’t see past your own prejudices.
” Willow remains unmoved, arms crossed over her chest. I unfurl my fingers, realizing I’m wound so tight my car keys have indented my palm.
I sigh, with tears forming, and lock eyes with my cousin.
“You don’t have to believe me. I don’t care at this point.
I just think it’s sad none of you will give him a chance when this is the happiest I’ve ever been.
So you can call my dad. Do whatever you want. ”
I slink back into my car. I wipe at my eyes as I turn the key in the ignition. Zander returns to the passenger seat, his face open and questioning. I reach out and brush a lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Addie, I don’t want to be the cause of—”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”