Chapter 3

LUCY

I’d always been proud that I met my husband at a library.

The majority of people my age had met their spouses in one of two places. A bar or a dating app. And in a few cases, on a dating app while in the same bar.

That always threw me for a loop. You’re in a bar, surrounded by like-minded people, and you’re looking at your phone trying to match with someone? No wonder people look down on folks my age.

Fortunately, how I met my spouse was more old-school. Back to the days when people met at churches, grocery stores, or other organic ways.

When I get asked the inevitable question of how we met, I loved being able to answer, “In a library.”

I’d managed to break the mold, finding a handsome man somewhere other than a bar or the dating app du jour.

Although our stories differ slightly about the day we met.

I claim—correctly—that I caught him looking in my direction.

He claims—incorrectly—that I was the one who kept eyeballing him.

Whichever the case, we both agree that he made the first move, walking up to the table I was sitting at and asking what book I was reading.

“The Shadow of the Wind,” I said.

It was a mesmerizing book by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. About fifty pages from finishing, I wasn’t looking to be interrupted.

I was going to forgive the guy, though, depending on how this went.

“It’s one hell of a novel,” he said.

“You’ve read it?” I asked, pleasantly surprised.

“It’s one of my all-time favorites.”

He was handsome and charismatic—yes, I could already tell—and I was generally leery of men who possessed both of those traits. I’m not saying they all had ulterior motives, but in my experience, a large percentage of them did.

I wouldn’t put it past this guy to see a girl sitting by herself and, in order to impress her, claim that the book she’s reading is one of his favorites. No, that’s not right—one of his all-time favorites.

“Who’s the author?” I used my fingers to cover the author’s name.

“Carlos Ruiz Zafon.”

“Where does the novel take place?”

“Spain.”

“Who is the main character?”

“Daniel.”

“Give me a one-sentence summary. But don’t give away the ending.”

“A young Daniel is given a book by his father, who owns a bookstore, and Daniel becomes fascinated with the book and its author. I could give away a little more if you want.”

I laughed.

“No, that’s enough. Wow, you really have read it.”

“Like I said, it’s one of my favorites.”

“You passed the test. Why don’t you have a seat?”

“I’d love to, but I actually have to be somewhere in about ten minutes.”

“That’s too bad.”

“How about I take you to lunch later this week?”

I waffled for a few seconds, so he politely interjected. “If you’d rather meet here again, we could do that. I know this is a little quick.”

I wasn’t the most impulsive woman in the world, but you wouldn’t have known that by what I said next. “Screw it. Let’s do lunch.”

“Great. What’s your number?”

I gave it to him.

“And your name?”

“I’m Lucy.”

“Great to meet you. I’m Eddie.”

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