26. Book Club
26
Book Club
Rose
M ood Reader is sparkling tonight. The flurrying snow from outside is making all the streetlights dance, and the reflection bouncing off the large front window of the bookstore is magical.
“You think we need more chairs?” Mia sets down a couple folding chairs and shoves her hair behind her ear.
“I’m going to grab a handful from the back.” My spirits are high. I’ve given myself permission to turn off my undercover brain for tonight. I spoke with Lennox earlier, and he assured me that Anton is well looked after. I’m trying to trust that and take advantage of a night of peace.
This is my favorite night of the month. I started a romance book club as one of my first initiatives when Mia hired me on, and it’s ballooned as interest has grown. My sisters started coming, at first to support me and so I wouldn’t be the only one in attendance, but now I think they genuinely enjoy reading the books.
The jingle bell we’ve affixed above the door for the holiday season clangs, and Poppy and Noli tumble in, stomping their boots to rid them of snow. They slough off their jackets and hug me hello.
Poppy inhales. “Smells amazing in here.”
“It’s the books,” I quip.
“No, it’s cinnamon.”
“Oh, right. I made homemade cider.”
“Gram’s recipe?” Noli licks her lips.
I nod. “ Duh.”
“Gimme.” The two hurry toward the food and drink table we have set up in front of the check-out counter.
I smile as they stop to hug Mia before helping themselves to piping-hot mugs.
The jingle bell above the door starts jangling again in quick succession as the rest of our club members join us.
Inez, the owner of the Getaway Café in town, has a box in her hands. “I brought cookies and day-old pastries, in case anyone wants one.”
“You’re the best. Thank you.” I point her to the food table, and she joins my sisters.
Willow Dunlap, a septuagenarian with the heart of a teenager, shuffles through the door followed by Collin’s mom, Beverly. She makes a beeline for Noli, and the two women hug hello. I love that book club is multi-generational. We all bring our experiences to the stories we read and, subsequently, to the discussions we have.
And yes, we do actually discuss the books at this book club. And yes, romance novels do provide great fodder for discussion.
I’m willing and able to fight anyone who says something different.
I’ve heard my fair share of pushback from people who call them a waste of time. Folks who argue they aren’t really literature. The same ones who’ll never give a romance novel a five-star review because it’s not, say, War and Peace .
To them I say, go away.
Romance novels do something for people’s spirits. Romance is an outlet of hope. Believing in love is nothing to be ashamed of. This group functions as a safe space to enjoy this type of story. I’d like to think that we all go out and try to love the people in our real life better after reading and discussing these titles too. What more could you ask for out of a book?
The door whooshes open again, and Abner, who works for the Cashmere Cove Street Department walks in with his wife, Kelsey. The two of them read our books out loud together, which, quite frankly, is the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. If I don’t find myself a partner who will read out loud with me, I don’t want one.
My mind paints a mental picture of Anton sitting on the couch in The Downer with my feet in his lap. In my vision, I’m listening as his low voice bowls me over with text from a crisp paperback we’ve picked up from Mood Reader on a Sunday afternoon after one of his games. It’s unreal how quickly I can conjure an image like this. It’s torture, actually. Because I can see it so clearly. Anton would read books with me. I know he would. I know he’s perfect for me. But how can I let myself be with him?
This is the mental tug of war I have going on.
I shut it down for now, turning my focus back to Abner and Kelsey. Ab is our only male book club member…so far. I’m holding out hope for more. Romance doesn’t discriminate.
Mia breaks off from the group by the food table, a mug in her hands. She joins me near the front of the bookstore, taking a drink of the steaming liquid.
“I think we’ll get started here shortly.” I do a quick head count. “All our regulars are here, and I’m not expecting anyone else.”
Mia nods.
The jingle bell rings behind me, and Mia and I spin toward the door.
Anton appears out of the snow, his broad shoulders filling the entire space between the door jambs. His gaze locks on me, and he smiles. It’s a smile that’s like my favorite book—beginning, middle, and ending all working together to tell a perfect story. There’s a hint of mischief, a dash of anticipation, and a whole dollop of sweetness in that smile. The sight of it—of him—fills me with the warmth of mulled cider.
“Anton! What are you doing here?”
It’s my night off from you .
Don’t even act like you aren’t happy to see him .
My brain is carrying on a back-and-forth conversation with itself.
Well, duh. But still. This is not helping my effort to not fall for him.
Just go with it.
“I came for book club. I hear it’s the place to be on a Monday night.”
My jaw is hanging half unhinged, but I’m helpless to control it. He asked me about book club yesterday, and I was so grateful to talk about something that wasn’t me owning multiple versions of his jersey that I told him all about it. But…
“I didn’t expect you to come,” I squeak.
“Well, surprise.” He winks at me before turning his gaze and gesturing around the store. “It looks great in here.”
I survey Mood Reader, trying to see it through Anton’s fresh eyes. We’ve got our holiday displays set up, with evergreen wreaths dangling from the shelf lights that are affixed to the tops of each bookcase. On each wreath, Mia and I have tied long red ribbons that dangle down. Above the shop’s front window, icicle lights are hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow on the glass panes. In the display case, we’ve created a Christmas tree out of books, stacking them in all directions, so they’re fanned out like branches. I wound a string of multicolored lights around the spines and tucked the wires between the pages. The result is whimsical and charming and everything I want a bookstore to be. We’ve got cozy and Christmas-y displays on each of our free-standing tables throughout the store, and velvet table runners in different hues of reds and greens serve as a backdrop for the stacks of titles we’re featuring. The gas fireplace along the side wall is festooned with an evergreen swag and snow-white, knit stockings are hung with care. A sign on the mantel encourages our patrons to drop off a pair of new socks in the basket on the hearth. I pitched it to Mia this morning, and we decided we’ll collect socks and donate them to the local community shelter for those who could use them.
“Thank you.” I’m proud of this store, but I remember myself then. Even Mood Reader, where I feel most at home, isn’t mine to claim. It’s another sobering reminder that I have nothing to my name. Not really. “It’s Mia’s place,” I say, and I have to work to keep my tone even. “I just work here.”
I tug my boss and friend forward. To her credit, Mia doesn’t look as starry-eyed as most people do in the presence of a prince and a pro-football player. Then again, maybe she doesn’t know who he is.
“Anton Bates.” Mia steps forward and holds out her hand. “I have you on my fantasy team. You helped me crush my husband this week, and I thank you for that.” She grins. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. We spoke on the phone.”
Anton grins and shakes her hand. “Thanks for having me. Happy to be of assistance with the fantasy team as long as you don’t hold it against me and ban me from book club if I have an off week.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. We’re anti all things book banning around here. Right, Rosie?”
“Uh-huh.” When Anton turns to hang his coat up, I hiss out of the corner of my mouth, “You knew he was coming?”
She cuts me with a look. “He called to make sure it was okay. I said all are welcome. Isn’t that what you’re always saying?”
“Of course.” I frantically tug at the neckline of the ratty crewneck sweater I’m wearing. It says Bookworm across the chest in faded, varsity letters. Perfect for book club. Maybe not perfect when I’m standing in front of a man who’s so far out of my league he may as well be on another planet.
I give myself a mental shake. I’ve never been self-conscious about my appearance or social standing around Anton before. I’m not going to start now .
He’s not wearing a stocking hat, so there are snowflakes resting on his blond locks, slowly melting and turning strands of his hair darker. He gives his head a small shake, and a curl dips over his brow as he turns back in our direction.
“I hope it’s okay. Me dropping in on you like this.” His eyes are on me, and I feel like I’m a bird he’s watching through binoculars. “I figured you’ve had to follow me around for the past week and a half. It’s about time I spent some time in your space.”
“That’s…” So thoughtful. I don’t even know what to say, and my throat feels like it’s lodged with dough. “…good,” I choke out.
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Mm-hmm.” I glance up at him. “Thanks for coming.”
My word, he’s so good looking. Good looking and thoughtful. A lethal combination. I want to bull rush him, curl up in his arms, and ask him to hold me forever.
But I can’t do that. I’ve got a book discussion to lead.
I curse. Because of course Anton is here—on the night we’re discussing a Christmas romance. And not any Christmas romance. A royal one.
“What’s that?” Anton says on a chuckle. “Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah. Fine. It’s…nothing. I just said, ‘ Shi -ouldn’t be long now.’”
His eyes are dancing the Macarena. “ Shi -ouldn’t be long now before what?”
“Before we get started. Come on in.” I swallow and lead him toward the group.
I can do this. What’s a little romantic book discussion between exes?
When one of them is an inch away from not wanting to be exes anymore?
With an audience of my sisters and my boss and half the town?
Piece of freaking cake.
“What I want to know,” Mia says, “is how she found her way back through the palace in time when she was trying to stop Prince Augustine from marrying that other woman.”
“My heart was pounding through that entire section.” Willow Dunlap sits forward in her chair. “Like, was she going to make it? She had to make it, right? But boy did the author have me hooked, waiting to see how.”
“I love that he was interrupting his own wedding before she had a chance to have her speak-now moment.” Abner rubs his chin, and his wife nods.
Next to him, she adds, “If it would have only been Gianna giving her declaration of love, I wouldn’t have bought in. I needed to see both characters choose each other. I love how it played out.”
“And that kiss.” Mia fans herself. “Worth the wait.”
“Amen, sister.” Bev holds up her mug in salute, and there’s a general murmur of agreement.
I smile to myself. I don’t know what I was worried about. Our discussion of A Royal Christmas Wedding has gone off without a hitch. Just like every book club, I’m tickled with the conversation, and I already want to read the book again to see if I agree with Abner about the foreshadowing the author laid down about the next book in the series.
“Anton, since you’re here,” Poppy pipes up from her seat on a stool near the stacks, “care to give us any insight into royal life? Did the author misconstrue anything?”
I hold my breath as every eye in the room turns and lasers in on Anton.
He takes this in stride, the only sign of any slight discomfort at the attention is the hint of pink that graces the tops of his cheek bones. He unfolds the leg he had draped over his opposite knee and sits back in his chair. I’m waiting for him to say he hasn’t read the book, so he can’t comment, but then he shocks me when he nods.
“I’d say the way Prince Augustine is described as being torn between his responsibility to the crown and the feelings of his heart is very accurate.”
My own heart pinches. He’s speaking from experience. I want to pull him into a hug, and stroke his hair, and protect him from the feeling of being pulled in two.
“But,” Anton goes on, “there are obviously some stereotypes employed here. At least in Penwick, we don’t eat the same breakfast every day. Though admittedly, Prince Augustine getting sick of hardboiled eggs made for some serious humor, didn’t it?”
The whole group titters, and I think I might combust. If I thought Anton was attractive before, hearing him discuss a romance novel has taken him to the next level.
“And we aren’t required to wear formal wear to dinner every night—though my mother would probably prefer that. I’m afraid she thinks I’m positively uncouth with my sportswear.”
The circle chuckles again.
My goodness, the man dazzles.
“I wonder what it would be like to fall in love with a royal,” Inez says on a sigh.
“Not all it’s cracked up to be, I’m sure,” Anton says with adorable self-deprecation.
“It is.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them, like a child’s block tower knocked over with a chubby, baby arm.
“Oh, do tell.” Noli has a Cheshire grin on her face. “Can you speak from experience?”
Anton’s gaze has snapped to mine, and he’s not taking his eyes off me. It’s like he’s a magnet, and I’m a collection of pencil shavings. Every part of me is flying toward him on a collision course. Everyone else is eyeing me with interest too. Great.
I scramble for something—anything—to say to appease the group, and to save face.
“I just mean that we shouldn’t sell royals short. ”
Poppy rolls her eyes. “We’re not selling them short, Rose. Everyone knows that with money and a title comes privileges. That’s an added bonus.”
I frown. “That’s not really what I mean, though.”
“Oh? What did you mean, hon?” Willow, bless her, is giving me an innocent look. Little does she know she’s putting me on the hot seat.
I make an active effort not to look at Anton as I formulate my response. “Royals are regular people underneath their title,” I begin carefully. “With anybody, royal or not, if the person is right, then dating them would just click. Take the title away from Augustine,” I say, bringing us back to the book and hoping it takes some of the focus off of me, “and he’s still the same person Gianna fell in love with. She likes him for him. Not for his title or the perks that come with it. And vice versa. Augustine fell for Gianna not because of what she could give him but because of who she is as a person.”
“Well said.” Mia nods. “On that note, we’re almost out of time for this evening. But please grab an extra treat on your way out. We’ll email out details about next month’s book, so watch your inboxes for that.”
I slump into my seat, letting out a breath of relief as the book club members stand and stretch, breaking off into small groups to continue the discussion or make small talk.
Anton gets swept up in a conversation with Abner and Kelsey, and I take advantage of the distraction to put some distance between myself and our resident prince.
Poppy and Noli are waiting for me by the cider.
“Good discussion, huh?” I speak first in an effort to head off any smart comments.
My efforts are in vain.
“It was delightful,” Poppy agrees. “But let’s not ignore the elephant in the room. ”
“What elephant?” I make a show of scanning the stacks and craning my neck this way and that. “I see no elephant.”
“How about the prince in the room, then?” Noli deadpans. “Seriously, Rosie. What is your deal? Why are you not jumping his bones?”
“Hey now. No need to go that far,“ Poppy protests. “But the sentiment remains,” she adds. “You two obviously have feelings for each other.”
“Obviously? Who is that obvious to?”
“The entire room here, for starters,” Noli scoffs. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you the entire time we were discussing the book. The fact that he’s even here should tell you all you need to know.”
“That he likes romance novels?”
Noli sticks out her tongue at me, but Poppy tips her head to the side. “Wouldn’t that be a point in his favor?”
She’s got me there.
“That. And you know what I meant,” Noli says sternly. “He’s here for you. He wants to spend time with you. I know we don’t know your history with him, but I’m telling you this because I love you, Rosie, and because I can speak from experience. Don’t let what happened in the past dictate your present or future happiness. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith.”
I bite my lip, chancing a quick glance at where Abner and Kelsey are saying goodbye to Anton.
“You really think he likes me?” I hate how small I sound, how much I need to hear my sisters build me up. “Because I wasn’t the greatest to him in Mobile.”
Understatement of the century.
“He’s into you, Rosie,” Poppy says, and Noli nods. “Trust us.”
I blow out a breath, my mind a tangled mess of what I want and what I should or shouldn’t want. What I deserve and don’t deserve. Nothing about this relationship—or potential relationship— with Anton will be easy. Then again, is anything worth having ever easy?
“We’re here for you. You know that, right?” Poppy grabs my wrist and gives it a quick squeeze. “If there’s something you want to talk about, you know where to find us.”
“Just because we’re partnered off doesn’t mean we don’t have time for you,” Noli adds.
My throat is tight with emotion. “I know,” I manage to croak out. “Thanks for saying it, though.”
Poppy and Noli give me hugs and say goodbye to Mia. I wave as they head out into what’s turned into a full-fledged blizzard.
The rest of the book club patrons take their leave shortly thereafter, and I get busy on my nightly checklist, tidying up the store and getting things back in order so we’re ready to open tomorrow.
“You want these chairs somewhere special?” Anton appears with a folding chair under each arm and two more in each hand.
“You don’t have to do that.” I shake my head. “I got it.”
“It’s not a big deal. I’m happy to help.”
Before I can answer, Mia joins us. She’s covering her mouth with her hand. “Rosie, I’m not feeling the greatest all of a sudden.”
“Oh no. What do you need?”
“My stomach is really off. I need to lie down. I hate to leave you with this mess.”
“It’s no problem. I’ve got—“
“Me.” Anton shoots me a triumphant grin. “I’ll stay and help her.”
I roll my eyes at him before turning my attention to my boss, who, even in the twinkling lights of the dimly lit bookstore, looks a bit green. “Are you okay to drive home?”
Mia shakes her head. “I called Patrick. He’s coming to get me. We’ll worry about getting my car sometime tomorrow.”
“Or later this week. I can cover the store if you want to rest. ”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Just need a good night’s sleep.” Mia offers me a faint smile and grabs her coat and bookbag from behind the counter.
Patrick’s truck appears through the front window a moment later, and I walk her out to him.
He hops out of the truck and circles the front of it. “Hey, babe. You okay?”
Mia leans into his hug. “I want our bed.” She presses a hand to her stomach. “I feel so sick.”
“Let’s get you home, then.” He helps her into her seat and closes the door. “Thanks for handling the shop, Rose.”
“Of course. Take care of her, and let me know if you need anything. I hope she recovers quickly.”
A look I can’t quite place passes over Patrick’s face, but then he smiles. “We will. Thanks again.”
I hurry back to the store as he pulls away from the curb. My breath catches as I take in the scene of the whole road. All the businesses lining Main Street are done up for the holidays, and the oversized trees beyond the buildings are wound with small glittery lights. They peek out over the top of the cityscape and provide a warm, festive backdrop.
I love this place. I didn’t set out to love it, but now that I do, the thought of leaving here for the foreign affairs job when I get promoted leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I’m not sure how long I stand outside, lost in the maze of my own thoughts and feelings, when the door to Mood Reader opens inward, and Anton pops his head outside.
“Rose? What are you doing? You’re going to catch pneumonia out here.” He strides forward and grabs my hand, tugging me back inside.
It’s only after the warmth of Mood Reader hits my skin that I realize I’m shaking .
“Are you okay?” Anton looks me up and down. He grabs a blanket that we have tossed over one of our comfy chairs and drapes it over my shoulders.
“I’m f-fine. I was admiring Main Street.”
“Could you maybe do that in less inclement weather?” He’s teasing me, but his eyes are kind. “What else do you need me to do?”
I tuck the blanket more firmly around my arms. I could protest his help. I could tell him to leave. But that’s not what I want. Not really. He won’t listen to me anyway. The man’s heart is too big. Like, doctors should study it to see if it’s actually oversized, because judging from the outpouring of his time and talents—with not only me but everyone around him—he’s got more in the cardiac capacity department than most.
“If you wouldn’t mind sweeping the floor. I’ve got to clean up the leftover cider.”
He sets off, and we work quietly. It doesn’t take long to get the bookstore back in order. I flip the overhead lights off so the twinkle lights are all that illuminate the space.
Anton comes to stand next to me. “You should be proud.”
I side-eye him.
He catches my gaze. “Of what you built, I mean. Everyone here obviously loves book club as much as you do.”
“I hope they do. But it’s just book club. Nothing ground-breaking,” I say, even if, for me, it’s something to look forward to each month. I doubt everyone else, with their lives together and other things on their dockets, cares as much as I do.
I’m waiting for him to say goodnight and head out into the storm. But he seems content to stand next to me, staring out at the snow. The scent of cedar and cinnamon that’s wafting off of him makes my brain feel sleepy and fuzzy, like someone spiked my cider. It’s nice, this letting-loose feeling. I know I should fight it, but my reasons for doing so are becoming flimsier and flimsier by the minute .
“You should give yourself more credit.” Anton’s voice is low and kind.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re undercutting your efforts and the work you put in to making something truly good. I wish you wouldn’t.”
I sigh. “Why are you doing this?”
He arches an eyebrow. “What? Standing here with you?”
I shake my head. “No. Being so nice to me. You didn’t have to come here. You didn’t have to stay and help me clean up. You don’t have to tell me I should give myself more credit. I don’t understand your motivations.”
“My motivations?” Anton’s eyes take on a hungry gleam, and I’m suddenly well-aware of the feeling his opponents get when he surveys the defense, ready to pick it apart play by play. I have a total-body feeling he’s about to puncture a hole in every one of my arguments and shred my own personal defense.
“Yeah. I don’t get you.” I cross my arms and face him, ready for the onslaught but not really ready at all.
“Then let me make myself very clear. My motivation is you and you alone, Rose.”
I tip my chin up at him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Anton.” I inhale. “You know what. I’m not the kind of girl you need. I was awful to you all those years ago. You…we…we shouldn’t. You shouldn’t fall for me.”
“I can’t,” he says with a huff.
“You…can’t?”
“Don’t you get it?” He takes a step closer to me. “I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself. I can’t not love you. I’ve tried. For years, I tried. Heck, you gave me every reason in the world back in Mobile to give up on us, and I took what you said at face value. But I’ve missed you every dang day. And now that you’re here, and I’m here, and I’ve gotten a feel for you in my life again, I’ve reverted to all my old ways. I wake up in the morning and think about what you might be thinking about. I’m out there on the field, working my tail off on the off chance you might see me play and be impressed. I want to do it all for you and with you. You told me you didn’t want me, Rose, but I don’t believe you. Because you have my jersey. You brought my friends gifts. You told your book club that dating a royal wouldn’t be so bad if it’s the right royal. I think I’m the right royal for you. I’m the right man for you. And I don’t want to try not to love you anymore. I want you. I want to love you. I think you want that too. So would you just let me?”
He sucks in a ragged breath, and I stare up at him. My mind is completely full of his words.
Of him.
How can I deny my feelings for him when he laid his feelings so bare? I can’t. I won’t.
I step toward him. Slowly, I place my hand on his chest. He’s stock still, his gaze like lava fire, coursing over my skin.
“So, I guess the truth is finally out there, then?” I put my other hand at the nape of his neck, and his eyes flutter shut. “About your tattoo, that is.”
He blinks and stares down at me. “My tattoo?”
“I’m guessing you don’t have a thing for Beauty and the Beast after all.”
He chuckles softly. It’s low and throaty, and his gaze is even more determined now. “I only have a thing for you.”
I pull his face down to mine, and I kiss him.
It’s slow and sweet, both of us reacclimating ourselves to something that once felt as natural as breathing. My entire body hums to life, like I’ve grown a new set of nerve endings, and they’re crackling to attention. Anton’s fingers run up and down my back, and instinctively my spine tightens and I arch closer to him. His soft touches are tantalizing and careful. His hands find my waist, and he squeezes above my hips, holding me upright. It’s a good thing, too, because even though in the grand scheme of kisses, this one’s pretty chaste, it still has me feeling like my skeleton might liquify and leave the rest of me a pile of mush on the floor.
Anton spears his hands through my hair, his thumbs coming to rest on the hollow below my ears. He takes his time, and I whimper because I want more. He’s warm and solid, and I can’t get enough. I press my body closer to him.
He responds immediately, replacing gentleness with power as he scoops me into his arms, putting his hands under my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist while he backs me to the nearest bookshelf. He sets me on my feet and proceeds to make me feel lit up all over, like I’m a human twinkling light. I’ve been asleep for the past five years, and now I’m awake and the sunrise is breath-stealing.
He’s everywhere, all at once. His capable, commanding hands hold me like I’m precious and like I’m his . Like he won’t let anything else touch me, because that’s his job. He splays one palm on my back, pulling me close to him and then leaning in. He anchors us both to the bookcase with the delicious weight of his body. His other hand traces a scorching path along my ribcage, up to the column of my neck, and around the shell of my ear before he angles my jaw and continues to have his way with my mouth.
My hands are greedy as they fly over the contours of his arms and shoulders. The pads of my fingers connect with the exposed skin at the back of his neck, and it’s hot to my touch. He groans into my mouth as I knead it tenderly before lacing my fingers through his hair. I relish the silky softness of it and then tighten my grip and use it to get the leverage I’m craving to tug his mouth harder to mine.
We go back and forth, a give-and-take kiss that encompasses everything I want in a partnership. It’s playful and serious. Soft and strong. He’s cherishing me. I’m treasuring him. It’s a selfless kiss. A competition to see who can take better care of the other, and we’re both winning .
We spend a long time, lost in each other, before Anton drags his lips from mine and starts trailing kisses along my jaw.
“I’ve missed you every single day, Sammy Rose.” His mouth is dry ice, making me hot and shivery all at once. He’s powerful and controlled and wholly focused on me. Me.
“I’ve longed for you,” he scrapes out.
I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as I whisper, “Yes.”
He freezes for a moment before shifting and forcing me to look at him. His eyes are dilated to a point where I can’t see any blue or green…only inky black pools of love and hope. He’s fighting to get his breathing under control. I can feel his heart pounding.
“Yes what?”
“Yes. I want you to love me.”
He exhales a shuddering breath and buries his head in the crook of my neck. I hold him as he holds me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this has the potential to be a terrible idea—to crash, burn, and implode spectacularly. Because doing this with Anton again means turning my back on my job with the agency and forfeiting the overseas career move. It means I’ll need to stand up to my father—and Anton’s mother, if it comes to it—and come clean with Anton about what I’ve been doing and who I’ve been working for. The only way it’ll work between us is complete honesty. I owe him that. The thought is terrifying, but not as terrifying as living one more day without at least trying to make something work with the best man I’ve ever known.
I’ll figure that all out tomorrow…or the next day. For now, I want to stay right here, in a bookstore bubble with Anton. Because for the first time in five years, I feel like I know who I am. I’m a woman in love with a man who happens to be a prince and a pro-football player, and he loves me back.