Chapter 27
MILES
“So, how’d the library treat you today?” Booker asked as we pulled onto the main road, heading out of town.
My heart sank into my stomach. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I also didn’t want to ruin tonight. I didn’t know what I was going to do.
It wasn’t as though I’d actually been offered the job yet. Maybe I wouldn’t be, and maybe it’d never matter anyway.
But the interview had gone well. And I liked Angela. And this had been my dream job, and it wasn’t like I’d put in a cold application. Someone had done me a favor, getting my resume in the running.
What if I got the offer? What then?
“No incidents with preschoolers?” Booker nudged when I didn’t answer in time. “Or town council members?”
I laughed despite myself. “No, nothing like that.”
I could tell Booker. I’d have to tell him, eventually, one way or another.
I even had half an idea what he’d say about it. Booker wouldn’t tell me I had to stay. He’d tell me to follow my dreams.
Which would have been the perfect advice, if I had any idea what my dreams were.
A week ago, they’d been a responsible position in an academic library at a respectable institution.
UChicago was more than respectable. I’d be further away from my family than ever, but was that so bad?
I’d managed to make new friends here pretty easily.
I could do it again, right?
“Do you think Ryder would want to launch his book in the library?” I asked, chickening out. I had time. I’d invited him to dinner with the vague idea that I’d get the opportunity to bring it up at some point. Maybe over dessert. Or once we got back.
Maybe in the morning, even. If Booker stayed the night.
Leaving it to fester was definitely a good idea. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that.
“You think he’ll get it published?” Booker asked. I didn’t think for a second he hadn’t noticed that we’d changed subjects, but I was glad he was letting me get away with it.
That was the thing about Booker. I got the feeling he’d let me get away with more or less anything.
I wasn’t sure that was a good thing, but for the moment it was reassuring.
“I’m sure he will. It’s good, and he deserves it.”
“People don’t always get what they deserve, y’know. I mean, you do know. You’ve gotten a whole lot of things you didn’t.”
“So has Ryder,” I said. “But it all worked out okay in the end. Maybe you can’t really get what you deserve until you can see how valuable it is.”
“Bad things happen for a reason?” Booker asked.
“You don’t think so?”
Booker shrugged. “Bad things happen, reason or not. What matters is what you do about ‘em. You can lie down under it, or you can, I don’t know, make lemonade.”
“Or open a gay bar and become the beloved central figure of a vibrant community?” I asked. Booker had his own share of experiences with things he didn’t deserve.
“Or save a small-town library from being shut down. Even if you know nothing about children’s books.”
“Excuse you, I’ve read over fifty now, I’m practically an expert,” I said. “I need to get started on the middle grade stuff.”
Did I? There wouldn’t be much call for that, if I went to Chicago. Maybe for teaching students, but they wouldn’t need me to know anything about them.
“Got any favorites?” Booker asked.
“That’s the thing about children’s books,” I said, taking advantage of the fact that I needed to give him directions to get a head start on snuggling.
When I shuffled over to him, Booker dropped his shoulder for me so I could rest my head on it, holding the map on my phone out between us. “Left here.”
Booker turned one-handed, not moving the shoulder I was leaning on. This was maybe not the safest driving, but I trusted him. I knew he’d keep me safe. He always had.
“What’s the thing?” Booker nudged.
“Oh, umm. They all end happily ever after.”
“So do romance novels,” Booker pointed out. “Not everything has to be The Iliad. Tragedy is only one way the story can end. Good things happen, too.”
They did. I’d seen it for myself, first hand.
That was the problem. Good things happened. I’d found Booker. And now there was this dream job being dangled in front of me.
Too many good things wasn’t necessarily… a good thing. There was probably a better way of saying that, but I couldn’t think right now.
I could have dinner, though. With Booker. And pretend that nothing was wrong, that we were celebrating, and that everything was definitely going to be okay.
“They do,” I agreed. I probably wouldn’t get the job offer anyway. Angela was just being polite. She was a nice woman, and she’d come back on Friday and let me down gently. “You need to take the next right after this one.”
“Your wish is my command,” Booker teased, turning off the highway without dislodging me from his shoulder at all.
I wish I knew what I wanted.