Chapter 38
Penny
apennyforyourbooks: Who needs a real boyfriend when you’ve got ice cream and a book boyfriend?
“Oh, you should totally use the warm filter on this one,” Billie says after snapping a picture of me holding an ice cream cone that is almost the size of my face and my latest read, a vacation romance about the dreamiest air force pilot and the woman who almost got away.
I’m still sad—and also maybe a little tipsy from the day-drinking—after everything that went down with Monty earlier. Stupid fake boyfriends who do nothing but break hearts.
I catch the apple pie ice cream with my tongue before it drips onto my fingers and hum. “This is so good.”
Billie giggles and shakes her head before taking a big bite of her own ice cream sundae. We’re seated out on the lawn in front of the Ice Cream Barn—a large red structure with black doors that abuts the beautiful mountains—with Tally, Quinn, and Daisy.
Behind the barn, Eli has an outdoor ice-skating rink in the winter and an indoor one for the rest of the year. It’s quite the setup and means the shop stays busy all year.
Tonight, with the sky a beautiful shade of pumpkin and cranberry and the unseasonably warm evening, it’s packed.
Families are sprawled out on blankets across the lawn, most of them having brought picnics for dinner before indulging in the ice cream that is the equivalent of an orgasm.
Not a Monty orgasm, because his are unfairly fantastic. But a regular one, sure.
I snort at the thought and my sister gives me a look that says she thinks I might be losing it.
Though I’m not sure she’s one to judge, as I watch her feed a cone to her pet cow.
I’m just glad no one is giving me sad eyes anymore; telling everyone about my humiliating fake relationship was awful enough.
Rayna was the one who poured me my first drink. Then Babs told me I was a fool if I thought anything Monty felt for me was fake. Everyone seemed to agree with her, so I told them I’d leave if anyone uttered another word about Jake Montgomery.
The rest of the afternoon was surprisingly wonderful. We drank Rosie’s specialty fall-themed cocktails and ate Tally’s delicious treats. We spoke about reading and everyone bought books. Even though they were unsigned, I sold out. God, I love those women.
“You’re getting ice cream in her hair,” I point out to my sister.
Tally grabs a napkin and tries cleaning Daisy up. She doesn’t get far, however. The cow is too focused on the ice cream and just keeps shaking her snout, aiming for another lick instead.
“Do you think Eli’s at the rink?” Quinn asks, his gaze longingly shifting over his shoulder. Billie ruffles his hair and he glares at her. “Mom, remember the flow.”
Under her breath she says to me, “But if Tally touches his hair he won’t brush it for a week.”
I giggle right as Daisy pushes my sister over on the blanket as she goes to devour the rest of the cone.
“Tally!” Quinn cries before throwing his ice cream at his mother in a bid to save his favorite girl.
The entire scene is ridiculous: Tally on her back, the giant baby Highland cow in her lap practically smothering her, and Quinn tugging on Daisy’s collar, trying, with no luck, to get her off my sister.
Billie and I are a puddle of giggles as Quinn huffs out that he needs help. It isn’t until Daisy realizes that Quinn’s cone has hit the ground that she jumps up and scrambles for that one instead, practically trampling my sister in the process.
“Mom, my ice cream!” Quinn yells.
“How is this my fault?!”
“I’ll get you a new one.” Eli’s voice cuts through the mayhem as he seemingly appears out of nowhere.
From beside me, Billie barely looks at him. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“Please, Mom!” Quinn whines.
Eli stands above us, his blond hair flowing in the breeze. I swear, from this angle, he looks like one of those models in those bodice-ripping novels. Smoldering blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a cocky smirk. All he needs is a ripped-open white shirt tucked and a woman in his arms to ravish.
I glance at Billie. She’d do.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re writing another story in your head?” Tally whispers as she settles in beside me, wiping herself off with a wet napkin.
“Look at them,” I say as Eli holds out a hand to Billie, trying to convince her to allow him to get another cone for Quinn. From the ground, Billie just stares at his hand like she’s never seen one before.
Thank God Quinn grabs her other hand, forcing her to stand.
Billie looks back at us. “I’m just going to go make sure Quinn doesn’t get a cone as big as his head.”
Eli winks at Quinn. “What if it’s only as big as a hockey puck?”
Quinn’s eyes go round; he loves hockey and he loves Eli Davis. Though who doesn’t? Well, other than Stew.
They disappear inside the barn and Tally bumps my shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m not the one who just got mauled by my cow,” I mumble.
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I do. But I really don’t want to talk about it.
With a sigh, I say, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure, because when I was struggling with Walker you were there for me and I’m—”
“But that’s the thing. Monty and I aren’t having problems. Because we aren’t real. It was all fake. He messed up with the signing today, yeah, but it’s not like he owed me anything.”
Tally rolls her eyes. “You’ve checked your phone approximately two hundred times today and every single time you do, you look like someone has kicked your puppy.”
“I don’t have a puppy.”
“Fine. Like someone ripped your favorite book.”
“Blasphemy!” I screech before lowering my voice. “I guess I got swept up in the pretending.”
“I don’t think Monty was pretending, Pen,” Tally offers. “And I know you weren’t.”
“Doesn’t change the fact it’s over. We’re not like you and Walker.” I blow out a breath. “You guys are made for each other. You have a perfect relationship.”
“Just because we’re perfect for each other doesn’t mean everything is always perfect,” she says before her tone turns stern. “I’m pretty sure a wise sister once told me that it doesn’t have to be perfect to be worth it.”
I scoff. “Your sister sounds dumb.”
Tally leans her head on my shoulder. “No. She’s the smartest, best big sister that ever existed.”
I smile and rest my head on hers. “And she’s got the kindest, best little sister in the world.”
We sit there in silence, watching as the orange hues of the late afternoon sky melt into a deep burgundy bloom.
“For what it’s worth, Pen, I think Monty loves you, too.”
She might be the best little sister in the world, but when it comes to this, she’s wrong.
***
I’ve just stepped into the kitchen after washing my face and getting ready for bed when I hear a noise near the window. I don’t see anything, so I shake my head and grab a glass to fill up with water.
I’m exhausted. This has been one of the longest weekends of my life and I plan on tucking myself into bed, even if it’s only eight, and starting fresh tomorrow.
That is, until another noise has me stomping toward the window. Maybe one of the ghosts from the trees is snapping against the building. I undo the latch on the window and slip it open, poking my head out right as something flies by my face, nearly hitting me in the eye.
“Shit! Fuck, I’m sorry!” I hear a voice call from below. I pick up the small pebble near my feet and then glance out the window again, spotting Monty down on the street.
“You okay?” he calls.
“What are you doing? This isn’t the 1980s! We have phones to communicate with people now.”
I watch as he lifts his shoulders sheepishly. “You weren’t exactly picking up.”
He’s not wrong. I huff as I watch him hold up a finger then bend down to something by his feet. When music breaks through the quiet night, I realize he’s got a boom box with him. He lifts it over his head and then hollers, “Penelope Darling, I owe you an apology.”
“Well, yeah, I know,” I yell back. “But what exactly are you doing now?”
Other than standing on Maple Lane with a boom box over your head.
A few cars drive slowly past, likely trying to figure out the same thing.
“I’m groveling. Pretty sure it happens in most of your books after the hero fucks up. And I really fucked up, Xuxuzinho. I let you down and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”
I nod as I try to temper my emotions. Monty’s right, he did let me down. And now, with him in front of me, acknowledging that, it hits me just how much it hurt. Because he’s telling me what we had was real and that I’m allowed to feel sad about the way he handled everything.
“You deserve to know that you’re everything to me, Penny. Nothing in my life has ever been as perfect as you.”
“I’m not perfect,” I croak.
“To me you are.” He smiles up at me. “For me you are.”
He taps something on the boom box and I start to laugh when I recognize the song “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel.
“Oh my God you didn’t,” I squeal, covering my face. The man is John Cusacking me.
Monty begins singing, pretty terribly I might add, as he holds the boom box over his head.
Tears stream down my face and I shake my head as I back up into my apartment.
I need to get downstairs, to him, right this minute.
But first I take out my phone and snap a picture because I want to savor this: the moment Monty stood beneath my window, between the maple trees, under a starry sky, with a boom box over his head, serenading me.
Groveling.
I snort and then rush down the steps so I don’t miss another second. The store is dark but I know the way by heart. When I unlock the door and finally swing it open, Monty is still standing there, singing along with the lyrics.
I realize I’m only wearing a tank top and sleep shorts when the cool New England air hits me, but there’s no way I’m running back inside for a jacket. When Monty sees me, he sets the boom box down and, with the music still playing, walks toward me.
“I didn’t only pick this song because of the movie,” he says, those green eyes of his holding me hostage. He’s wearing another one of his rock band T-shirts and a pair of jeans and he looks so perfectly delicious. “I lied when I told you I came back because of my writer’s block.”
“What?”
“It’s because I couldn’t get the damn color of your eyes out of my head. Since last spring I’d been racking my brain trying to remember the exact shade. But, Penny, I think that was just my brain making up excuses.”
“I don’t understand.”
Monty steps closer so I can feel the warmth of him, can smell his smoky scent. He reaches for my hands and his thumbs stroke mine.
“You know your father was an incredibly smart man”—he huffs out a laugh—“but I think he got one thing wrong.”
I frown. “Hm?”
“It’s not all up here.” He releases my hand and points to his head. “I’ve been trying so hard to get it right. To think it all through before I promised you anything because I didn’t want to hurt you.” He shrugs. “And, honestly, I didn’t want to get hurt, either.”
“I’d never hurt you,” I whisper.
“What I’m trying to say is, I’m tired of trying to figure out the ending when what I should be focused on is our beginning. Because I don’t want this to end, Penny. So, I’m done thinking. Done plotting.”
Monty smiles at me and I can actually feel the moment when he decides to take that leap, when he trusts in us enough to risk it all.
“The best stories are here, Xuxuzinho.” He pats the spot right against his chest. “And my story begins and ends with you. Because you, Penny Darling, are my heart. You’re the love of my life, my best friend, and I never want to let you down again.”
“What?” I blink, completely flabbergasted.
“I’m in love with you, Penny. I know I fucked up. And I swear to you I’ll make it right. I’ll buy every book you ordered for the signing. I’ll fly us to meet Julie Rose in person. Hell, I’ll throw you a whole romance conference if you want.”
I laugh through my tears. “That’s ridiculous.”
“No, Xuxuzinho.” He shakes his head. “What’s ridiculous is how I treated you. How I let you believe for even a second that this was pretend. That you haven’t been the love of my life and the girl of my dreams since I knew what love meant.”
I suck in a harsh breath. “I thought you didn’t believe in love.”
“I’m an idiot. I was scared to repeat my parents’ mistakes.
Afraid that if they couldn’t make it work, how could we?
I was thrown off seeing them together this weekend.
I caught them kissing this morning and it just—” He blows out a breath.
“I didn’t know how to handle it. But I realize running from my feelings wasn’t it.
That’s what my father has done and I refuse to make the same mistake.
I’m not running anymore, Xuxuzinho. Please forgive me.
Please let me prove that I can be worthy of you. Let me grovel. Let me love you.”
Tears stream down my face and I can’t stand the distance between us anymore. I throw my arms around his neck and inhale him. “You are more than worthy of me, Jake Montgomery.”
“No, Xuxuzinho, I’m not,” he whispers reverently into my ear as he strokes my back. “But that’s okay. It just means I’ll have to practice some more.”
“I really like practicing with you.” I sob into his chest.
“I love practicing with you. I love doing everything with you.”
I rest my chin on the spot above his heart and stare up at him. “Is this real? Are we really doing this? Are we real?”
“Yes, Pen.” Monty’s eyes crinkle as he smiles down at me. “We’re anything you want us to be. Just as long as you’re mine.”
The music turns to Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” and Monty starts to sway us gently to the music.
“First Say Anything and now The Notebook?” I whisper.
He chuckles. “Why do you think it took me so long to get here? I had to use my old cassette player to burn a new playlist.”
I let out a laugh. “You’re such an old man.”
“An old man who’s crazy in love with you.”
We stare at each other with punch-drunk smiles on our faces. And outside my bookstore, on the cobblestone sidewalk, beneath the brightest stars lit by the moon, Jake Montgomery dances with me.
“I was wrong when I said your grandparents’ story was my favorite,” I whisper, as I lift up on my toes and bring my lips right beside his.
“Oh yeah?”
“Ours is.” And then I press my lips to his. He meets my mouth with a lust-filled kiss. It’s not gentle. The time for that has passed. I need him and finally I know that he needs me.
This is real. This is forever. This is bliss.