Chapter 4
Libby
Is it considered a walk of shame if the guy is already gone when you leave in the morning? Asking for a friend.
I wake up in the morning to the sun beaming through the windows of the hotel room, splayed across the white comforter in yellow slats.
I’m pretty sure there are birds singing too.
As I roll to a sitting position, I hug the sheet to my body because I am still naked.
All of Jax’s things are gone but it’s okay.
It was a one-night stand, as we said it would be.
I’m not looking for anything more and neither is he.
Though I wouldn’t say no to a sequel of whatever the hell that was last night…
My phone buzzes and I pick it up. My screen is crammed with notifications, mostly missed texts and calls from Joni.
Joni- Did you go back to the hotel with him?
Joni- Did you have sex?
Joni- Did you DIE?
Joni- OMG ANSWER ME!!!
As guilt floods through me, I realize it would be better to just call her. Joni answers on the first ring.
“Well look who’s alive!”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I stand up, taking the sheet with me like some kind of Trojan queen as I look for my clothes. It’s like a scavenger hunt.
“I have been worried sick. But also…Life 360 says you’re at a Hilton. I need to know everything. And since I stayed up half the night pacing my house and chewing my new manicure off, don’t leave out any details, you hear me? Not one.”
“It was a good night,” I say wistfully.
“Good? No, no. I deserve more than good. Libby. Listen, I’m married and bored, spending all my time either caring for my mechanic husband while clipping coupons and pretending like being a teacher in this day and age is actually the dream.
You know I got stabbed with a pencil on the first day of school this year?
Most teachers get an apple or, I don't know, a Starbucks gift card. I got stabbed. So please, indulge me, tell me what happened!”
I giggle at that and grab the rest of my clothes so I can get dressed.
“So, at first…I didn’t think he was going to show. I was about ten minutes early, but he was nearly twenty minutes late.”
“Men are always late,” Joni says. “Not an automatic deal breaker in my opinion. Go on,”
“So, he comes around the corner and sits down, and I swear to God Joni…he was not at all what I was expecting.”
“Tall?”
“Yes.”
“Hair color?”
“Blonde. Mostly. A bit of gray.”
“Beard?”
“No.”
“Muscle?”
“Ripped.”
“Damn. And fuck you. But also, damn. Get it girl.”
“We talked and ate and had a couple drinks and then we went to a hotel and–”
“Hold up. You said you weren’t going to sleep with the guy.
What happened there?” I can hear the amusement in her voice.
I make my way out of the room and down to the first floor.
As I step out of the building, I have to orient myself.
My car is a few blocks down. Luckily, it’s daytime now and not unsafe to walk alone.
I start in the direction of my car but make a pit-stop at a little coffee shop, desperate for some caffeine.
“He didn’t pressure me into it if that’s what you’re asking,” I say, standing in line.
“Of course not. The man sounds like Channing Tatum–”
“Better,” I cut her off.
“Better than Channing Tatum. I mean hell, I’d throw my morals and dignity out the window too. So, what now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to see him again?” she asks.
“It was a onetime thing. We already unmatched on the app,” I say, taking a step forward in line. My mouth waters at the sight of the pastry case. I don’t usually eat sweets for breakfast but right now, I figure why not?
“Did you at least get his phone number?”
“No!” I laugh. “It’s over. That’s it.”
“Well shit,” she says and honestly there is the slightest hint of disappointment in me too. But those were the rules, and I am a rule follower. Most of the time.
After I get back to my car and indulge in a caramel latte and an orange scone, I stop at my house to change before heading to work.
I toss the date clothes into my laundry bin before slipping into a mid-length orange and white floral skirt and a white blouse.
Then I tie my still curly hair up, apply some moisturizer and lip gloss and head to work.
Boston is a large and busy city, a network of neighborhoods, shopping centers, and downtown areas.
Right in the heart of it all, nestled in a stretch of brick businesses, is my shop.
Way With Words is a family-owned bookstore.
My dad started it with my mom, back when they first got married.
After she died, he ran it himself, though I liked to think I helped quite a bit.
The shop was my dad’s heart. It was like my mom was painted into the murals on the walls, pressed into every book.
He wanted to be there all the time and so did I.
Kai, on the other hand, never cared for it much.
At 5 years older than me, he was more concerned about college, girls and making money of his own.
Even after our dad died, he didn’t care what happened to the shop.
In fact, he’s spent the last several years trying to convince me that we should sell it.
I pull up to the backside of the shop and frown. Speak of the devil. Kai is here, parked in my spot. I drive in a loop and find another spot, one with a meter, and shake my head.
“Hello, hello,” I sing out as I walk inside, the wooden door clanging behind me.
I wade through the book displays and back behind the counter, setting my things down.
Summer and Tom, my two co-workers, are already there.
Tom is on a ladder, fighting with a display and Summer is standing below him, critiquing it.
“Good morning,” I say with a smile.
“Is it?” Tom asks.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Summer smiles back at me before telling Tom to move the display to the right.
“I am. I had a good night,” I say, rearranging the pen cup near the register.
“So, your date went well?” Summer asks.
“How did you know I was on a date?” I ask. I had told them I needed to leave early, though I didn’t say why.
“Joni came in with her litter of kids,” Tom says. “Hence the reason we are fixing the display. You know those little hamsters can climb walls? I think they might be possessed.”
I giggle at that. Joni has four kids and if I had to guess, they aren’t done.
“Her kids are a bit…energetic,” I say.
“They’re feral,” a voice comes from behind me. My brother appears out of the back, and I smile, though it does pull at my smile a little to see him standing there in a button down and slacks.
Kai works in sales. He went to school for marketing and works remotely for some real estate agency, flipping businesses from mom-and-pop to big box. It’s a crime, if you ask me, diminishing the local scene, but Kai’s brain works in dollar signs. Formal attire means he is working in the area.
“Hey, Kai. Long time no see.”
“Yeah well I’m a busy man, Libbs. Making money is time consuming.”
“I’m sure it is,” I say, grabbing a box of new books and heading to the shelves.
“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” he asks, raising his voice instead of following me.
“I assumed you were going to tell me either way.”
As the older sibling, Kai technically owns Way With Words, though he rarely comes around. For the most part, he’s passed it off to me. Like a hand-me-down he looked over once and decided he didn’t want it. He only comes around when he wants something.
“I found a buyer,” he states.
“That’s good,” I say, sliding the books onto the shelf. “For what?”
“The shop.”
“One of your shops?” I ask without looking back.
“This shop, Libby.”
With that, I turn. “What do you mean for this shop?”
Kai lets out an irritated sigh. “Come on, Libby. Don’t pretend you don’t know. I told dad for years that this place is an outdated black hole, and it would be better to sell it to a bigger name.”
“And dad told you he had no interest in that because it’s not about the money.”
“Wake up, little sister. Everything is about money. Dad was too much of an idealist to see it.”
Listening to my older brother talk about our late dad that way has me seeing red. “We don’t need a buyer. We aren’t under water, we are doing just fine. Not only that, we are doing what dad and mom would have wanted. We are fulfilling their legacy.”
“I don’t think he wanted his legacy to be two broke kids, Libs,” Kai says dryly.
“We aren’t broke,” I snap.
“We aren’t rich either. And I have a solution.”
I stand right in front of my brother. I may be younger and smaller than him, but he doesn’t scare me. I’m also a little pissed off that he’s ruining my day. A day of sunshine and flowers and post-sex bliss. In short, I want him to ride his high-horse right out of here.
“I think the solution is you backing off, letting me run our family store the way dad would have seen fit, and prospecting dollar signs somewhere else. The world is your oyster, Kai. This is the only pearl I care about.”
As I talk, Kai’s attention is more focused on his phone than my words, furthering the point that he doesn’t give two shits how I feel.
“Listen, Libs. I don’t know what you’re going on about but the reality of it is the will left the shop in my name. And if I say we are getting a buyer, we are getting a buyer. And you’re about to meet him.”
“What?” The word seeps out of my mouth like hot dragon breath because I am two seconds away from incinerating him. “You can’t just sell my shop to some money hungry rando, Kai!”
“It’s not your shop, Libby. And that said…I kind of can. Legally I very much can.”
“Well, when this buyer guy gets here, we are going to have words.”
“Do what you want, sis. But try to be nice. He’s a friend of mine.”
“I don’t care if he’s the Pope himself. If he has the balls to walk in my shop, he’s going to get a piece of my–”
“Dax!” Kai talks over the top of me as the door chimes.
I whip around, fully prepared to put the guy in his place before he can even get a word in edgewise.
It’s one thing that Kai has been trying to sell my bookshop out from under me ever since our dad died.
It’s another to gang up on me with one of his fellow sales bros from college to make it happen.
But the moment I see him, the fire goes out, and I stop.
I blink.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I find myself asking if I am dreaming. Though if I am, this time is more of a nightmare.
“Jax?” I ask softly as the man stops in his tracks too.
“Libby?”
Kai steps between us with a quirky grin. “Wait. You two know each other?”
“I…” Jax looks between us and shakes his head.
“No,” I say quickly.
Luckily, Kai is lost.
“Libby, this is Dax Hemingway, owner of Hemingway books and soon to be owner of our shop. Also, one of my best friends since I left college, isn’t that right, brother? Dax, this is my little sister and soon to be a huge pain in your ass, Libby.”
“Jax…” the word escapes my mouth as my brain scrambles to catch up.
“Dax,” he says, holding out his hand and I realize I have to take it. Then it hits me, all at once, like a freight train.
Jax was a fake name. Lots of people on apps use fake names. Especially if they’re looking for a onetime thing.
Dax is Daxton Hemingway. Of Hemingway books. The largest book and media franchise in the country.
As I piece it all together, one word escapes my mouth. The only word I can think of to say.
“Shit.”