21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Ethan spotted Paige the second she turned the corner toward the bagel shop.
He leaned against the brick storefront, wondering how she always knocked the wind out of him.
Today, she wore a baseball hat, her ebony waves pulled into a ponytail, the bill of the cap low over her forehead.
Oversized sunglasses hid half her face, and her T-shirt read Kiss the Cook .
Instead of her usual yoga pants, she had on .
. . jean overalls. Short ones. With rainbow patches on the pockets.
He blinked, grinning as she approached.
Paige tipped her sunglasses down as she neared, just enough to reveal her warm chocolate eyes. “Too much?” she asked.
Ethan couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth. “No. I love the outfit.”
“You said to disguise myself, so I went to the back of my closet and dug deep.” She tucked her hands in her overall pockets.
“I wore these overalls like every day the summer before senior year of college. There was a time when they were in style.” She pushed her sunglasses back in place.
“And I have no idea where this T-shirt came from. Gigi must’ve left it at my place.
No one will suspect that I’m wearing a shirt related to cooking. ”
He laughed and handed her an iced chai. “It’s a good disguise.”
“Thank you.” She took the drink with a smile, her fingers brushing his. His stomach did a quiet somersault. He wanted to take her in his arms. Instead, he took a swig of his hot, black coffee, letting it burn down his throat.
“I didn’t do as well with my disguise,” he admitted.
He wanted to blend in, if there were still fans and treasure hunters milling about in the library, so he left the leather jacket and aviators at home.
He’d thrown on a baseball hat, which he rarely wore.
Other than that, he was in his standard T-shirt and jeans.
“You could’ve thrown on a stick-on mustache or something.
Really sold the look.” She sipped her chai, and he was relieved that she was being playful.
Something warm and familiar fluttered in his chest, and Ethan told himself to stop it.
Paige had made it clear at the rink that whatever he’d thought was building between them, she wasn’t ready for. Or maybe not even interested in.
“I was doing some digging last night,” he said, shifting gears. “Found two old articles from library fundraisers my grandparents spoke at. The same guy wrote them, five years apart. I looked him up. Turns out, he still works at the library as the Special Collections Archivist.”
Paige raised her brow, looking impressed. “Really? You think he knows something about the clue?”
“It’s worth talking to him,” he added with a shrug. “He has an office. Might be the ‘locked by a key’ part of the clue.”
“Oh, good connection. That’s totally possible.”
“I emailed him. Said he’d be in today and to stop by.”
Paige nodded. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go talk to this archivist guy.”
They crossed the street together, both pulling their hats low as they neared the library.
It felt like pre-skating rink times—two writers on a mission, shoulder to shoulder, sharing an adventure.
Slipping through a back entrance, they avoided the crowd and went straight for the stairs.
And as they crept through the second floor and padded along the aisles, Ethan pushed down the memory of sharing that quiet nook with Paige, of pressing her against the bookshelves and barely keeping himself from kissing her.
The memory tortured him, so he focused on the task ahead.
“It’s just down this way,” Ethan said, leading them down an empty hall. He stopped short at the last office, seeing the plaque on the door that read Dr. Frederick Simons, Archivist . Ethan looked over at Paige. She gave him a small, curious shrug.
He knocked.
A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing an older gentleman with gold-rimmed glasses, silver hair, and a handlebar mustache. He patted the chest of his well-worn cardigan. “Ethan Cole?”
“Yes, Dr. Simons. I’m the one that emailed you. And this is Paige Moon.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Dr. Simons smiled, stepping aside to wave them in. “Please, call me Fred. I’ve been expecting you.”
Ethan followed Paige into the office, which was overflowing with books and file boxes. Fred gestured to two wingback chairs, and they settled in as the archivist moved behind his desk. It overflowed with papers, sticky notes, and the oldest computer Ethan had ever seen.
“The library has been a circus this past week,” Fred started. Ethan thought he was going to reprimand them for starting the chaos. Instead, he said, “But I wasn’t going to let anyone find the clue, except you.”
Ethan stilled. His pulse ticked up. “You have it?”
“The clue?” Paige added, leaning forward.
Fred nodded and moved to a shelf on the back wall. Ethan held his breath as the man ran his fingers down a row of spines and plucked out a leather-bound book.
Ethan instantly recognized it. “My grandfather’s journal.” He stood from his chair and stepped toward Fred. “I thought it was lost.”
“Your grandfather left it with me over a year ago.” Fred handed it to him carefully. “Said one day you or Mary Anne would come looking for it.”
Ethan swallowed, pulling the book close, looking down at it reverently. He brushed his fingers over the soft leather, picturing his grandpa holding the journal, penning words and thoughts.
“Thank you,” Ethan said, pushing past a lump building in his throat. “For keeping his journal safe.”
“He was a good man.” Fred’s voice was warm. “Fierce. Curious. Brave. Always spoke about you.”
Ethan cleared his throat, nodding. Paige stepped close and gently touched his back. A quiet support. No fanfare. Just her being steady.
“We were friends for nearly forty years,” Fred added. “I miss him.”
Sad, Ethan nodded. “Me too.”
“I hope you find what you need in there.” Fred gestured toward the journal. He paused, and then added, “My door is always open. If you’d ever like to hear some marvelous stories about Aldean, just stop by. I’ve got quite a few.”
Ethan clutched the journal to his chest, absorbing the powerful presence of his grandpa. “I’ll take you up on that. Thank you.”
“Good luck to the both of you,” Fred replied with a nod. “With the necklace and in life.”
They thanked him again and stepped out of the office, walking down the hall in silence until Paige put a hand on Ethan’s arm, and stopped. “Are you okay?”
He turned to face her, and their gazes connected, both stunned and curious. Then their attention fell to the book. Ethan opened it, slowly, like an ancient treasure chest. On the very first page, his grandpa’s curved cursive was laid out in a few verses. They read the words together in silence.
This is the last, the journey’s close,
Where love once bloomed and memories grow.
Not in gold, nor buried deep,
But where my love still dares to keep.
For the two who will always hold my heart—
The necklace waits where time comes apart.
Below the riddle, there was another message: Mary Anne & Ethan, I will love you always. I will be with you always. Keep the adventure going. Love, Aldean.
Ethan couldn’t speak around the massive lump wedged in his throat. He tried unsuccessfully to fist it down and when Paige looked up at him, eyes tender and soft, he had no words.
“That’s beautiful,” she whispered. When he didn’t reply, she stepped close and wrapped her arms around him. Her hug pierced his chest and anchored him. He hugged her back, letting every jagged emotion flow through him like a rushing river.
When he finally eased back, they stood close.
Their gazes met, and something buzzed in the air between them.
Possibility. Love. Gratitude. Likely, all of it.
And the realization of that forced Ethan to grapple with reality.
He needed to give Paige space. He wanted to respect her boundaries.
His heart needed to settle down and stay in its own lane.
And the only way to control his heart was to step back . . . from this.
“Thanks for being here with me,” he whispered.
“Of course,” Paige replied, scanning his face, her expression shifting, looking unsure.
He exhaled, pushing against the pain building in his chest. “I’ve been thinking. I don’t want things to get weird between us. Or confusing. I care about you, Paige. I care about this friendship. I don’t want to lose that.”
I don’t want to lose you.
He didn’t want to scare her away, like he had at the rink.
He wanted to keep her close. And if she truly wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship, then he’d suffer in silence.
Because he wanted Paige Moon in his life.
And he knew he couldn’t be with her, kiss her, hold her, if it was only fake and temporary.
Her lips parted. Closed. Parted again. But no words came out.
“We’ve got a good thing going,” Ethan added, forcing a smile as he dropped the journal to his side. “I don’t want to mess that up. Let’s just . . . focus on finishing the book and finding the necklace. Together, okay? As friends.”
For a fleeting second, he gripped tight to the leather-bound pages, thinking she might protest, but it was only wishful thinking. Because, with her next breath, Paige blinked and stepped back. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”