Chapter Three
Three
Emmy read the back cover of the book in her hand, saw it was a historical romance.
Not her thing. Too hard to think past the chamber pots.
She picked up another, read the synopsis, put it back.
Some of the authors’ names were familiar, but most were not.
In fact, some of the biggest names in romance were conspicuously absent.
That was kind of cool. It was like Lucy was giving other writers a chance to shine.
She picked up a book, saw the title was Light the Way, and nearly put it back again thinking it was a religious romance.
The cover simply depicted a man with bulging muscles embracing a gorgeous woman with a curly cascade of coppery hair.
That image could be used for any subgenre of romance.
Just to be sure, she flipped it over and read the synopsis.
No, not religious. A slice of life romance where the male lead—Will—was a nurse.
That was an unusual role for the sexy mantagonist, and it kept her reading.
He lived in Cobalt, Massachusetts, apparently.
A more romance novel town name she’d never heard.
Feeling curious, she took out her phone and googled it.
Yeah, no Cobalt, Massachusetts. There were, however, many Chevy Cobalts for sale in Massachusetts.
Shaking her head at the author for naming the fictional town something so cutesy—and at herself for feeling the need to look it up—she finished skimming the back of the book.
When she got to the part of the synopsis that introduced the female lead, she nearly laughed out loud.
Bright Ammerman? This author named her female lead Bright?
“Okay, I’m getting this one,” Emmy announced to the room at large.
“Bring it on over!” Lucy called without missing a beat.
Emmy found her at a cash register tucked away in the back corner, behind a display of strap-ons. She handed Lucy the book, spared a moment to appreciate the nondescript brown paper bag that Lucy grabbed from beneath the counter.
“I haven’t read this one,” Lucy commented. “You’ll have to let me know if you like it.”
Emmy didn’t respond, only watched as Lucy scanned the barcode on the back cover. Rather than the expected beep of success, the machine made a disgruntled noise. Frowning, Lucy pointed the scanner at the book from farther away. It didn’t work.
“Weird. Hold on.”
She put the book on the counter and began typing the ISBN into her computer. A moment after she hit enter, she frowned at the screen.
“I must have forgotten to enter this one into my system before shelving it,” she said, more to herself than to Emmy.
She picked up the book again and looked at the front cover.
When she next spoke, it was if she were addressing the book itself.
“I swear I triple-checked my stock. How did you get out there on the shelf? Did you sneak in?”
“I guess even psychics make mistakes, huh?” Emmy said, unable to keep the smug expression off her face.
“Psychic, but still human,” Lucy said with a smile. She quickly flipped through some of the pages, ran her fingers over them. Frowned, cocked her head.
A prickle of unease skittered up Emmy’s spine, followed immediately by disgust with herself. What was she doing letting herself be taken in by Lucy’s performance? To compensate, she made sure to sneer as she asked, “Are you sensing bad vibrations?”
Lucy shook her head slightly, clearly not at all bothered by Emmy’s derisive tone.
“I’m getting… something.” She shrugged and closed the book.
“I’m sure it’s just an echo from the previous owner.
It’s clearly used. But it’s still in good shape!
How about I ring it up at my standard pre-owned price? ”
“That’s fine.” Emmy handed over her card and waited while Lucy slipped the book and the receipt into the bag.
“Thanks for coming,” Lucy said, and she sounded sincere. “Tell May to come see me and tell me all about her guy.”
“I will.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t hate me.”
“What makes you think I don’t?”
Lucy reached out and tapped the bag in Emmy’s hand. “You didn’t have to buy a book. Come on back if you ever have a burning romantic question you’re willing to pay twenty-five dollars to answer.”
“Thanks.”
Emmy left the shop feeling confused. Far from hating Lucy, she felt a reluctant kind of admiration for her.
The supposed psychic had been right; Emmy didn’t hate her, and she was a little disappointed about that.
Still, there was a bright side. She could now definitively say that May had not been taken in by a con artist. At least not in any way that would be harmful.
Lucy wasn’t psychic, but she meant well. Good enough.
With her new book in hand, Emmy got into her car and started the uneventful drive back to her apartment.
It was her day off, but she couldn’t start reading until she’d checked a few things off her to-do list. She had to check in with May, get groceries, call the dress place to make sure the final alterations on her maid of honor gown were complete.
The steamy romance between Will and Bright would have to take second place to the mundane tasks of real life.
May texted her before she arrived home that evening.
Did you do it? Did you go see Lucy???
Yes, she is very happy for you
Yay! What did she say to you? Did you get a reading????
Apparently I’m in for a big life change and other vague nonsense
Boo! No being a stick in the mud I’m calling you in 2 minutes
There was no avoiding it. Emmy set her stuff down and kept her phone out knowing that May would make good on the threat.
Sure enough, her phone lit up a couple minutes later.
She answered and was immediately assaulted by a heartfelt, if not entirely pitch perfect, rendition of “My Heart Will Go On.”
“Gomen, gomen,” May apologized immediately. “Chotto mate.” Emmy waited as requested. She heard a dull sound that must have been a door closing because everything instantly went quiet. “You still there?”
“Yes. Where the hell are you?”
“Rehearsal dinner for the Nash wedding on Friday night. This was the only time they could do it, and they asked the whole team to stick around for a while to make sure there were no hiccups.”
“Uh huh. Celine sounds a little off. Did she forget to warm up?”
“Huh? Oh! Ha. Yeah, that’s the sister of the bride who is convinced she is the next American Idol or X-Factor or whatever. The bride’s a genius. She convinced the sister to sing at the rehearsal instead of the actual wedding. Told her it would be more intimate and personal that way.”
“And she bought it?” Emmy asked.
“Ah… maybe.”
“She’s totally going to grab the mic at the reception,” Emmy predicted.
“Oh, yeah.” May giggled. “It’s the thought that counts?”
“You say that now. Wait ’til I get up on stage on Saturday and start belting out—” She paused, took a deep breath, and let loose with, “I-I-I want to tha-ank you… for giving me the best day of my life.”
“I double dog dare you,” May said after a beat of silence. “I will do your chores for a month if you do that.”
“Don’t think I won’t. That’s a good deal for me. I hate doing dishes.”
“Okay, you’ve distracted me long enough. What did Lucy tell you? I want the full story. Not just the Emmy version.”
Damn. She’d just started thinking she’d gotten May off topic enough where she’d forget to swing back around to the psychic. There was no point in trying to put her off. Emmy decided to get it over with instead. She recounted the details as close as she remembered them.
“Huh,” May said once she’d finished. “That… sounds a lot more dire than mine did.”
“If she really is psychic, then she definitely sensed I wouldn’t be taken in by puppies and rainbows and unicorns.”
“Oh, and I would?”
Emmy winced. “That’s not what I meant. Exactly.”
May laughed. “I absolutely would, and you know it. Not just would. Did. And now I’m getting married on Saturday!”
“Okay, point to you.”
“Yes! I love points! Seriously though, thanks for going. I know you only did it for me. Did you at least have fun?”
“Yeah, I guess. She wasn’t what I expected, I’ll give her that.”
“Wow, high praise coming from you.” May paused. “Oh, shoot. Ando just texted. I have to go. Talk to you later?”
“Yeah. Go do your thing.”
“Later, sweets. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Mata ne.”
That hadn’t been too painful. May was happy.
Lucy and her weird Tarot deck were in the past. Emmy was glad to wash her hands of the whole thing.
She was tired from a day of running around and finalizing wedding plans.
It was barely ten when she gave in to fatigue, changed into her cozy pajamas with rubber ducks on them, and scooted under the covers.
She’d nearly forgotten about her new novel until she caught sight of it on the nightstand.
She had just enough energy left to give it a try, so she cracked it open.
While flipping through the first few pages, she paused on the dedication.
For you
That was unusual. Emmy frowned for a moment, then moved past it.
The author had dedicated her book to her readers.
It was a nice sentiment. Didn’t mean the author had no family or friends to dedicate the book to.
That was too sad a thought. Emmy wouldn’t allow sad thoughts to pollute the happy romance world she was about to enter.
She found the first chapter and began to read.
The book quickly proved to be a worthwhile purchase.
The writing was a little flowery for her taste, but the emotions were genuine, and Will felt like a real person.
It was interesting to note that he appeared to be the protagonist of the novel, though she had no doubt she’d be treated to Bright’s perspective soon enough.
Usually the romances she read focused on the female lead.
She welcomed the change of pace. After succumbing to a jaw-cracking yawn, she continued into chapter two, interested to see what Will would do now that his car had broken down.
Will indulged himself with some creative curses as he turned the key in the ignition and listened to his car sputter and gasp like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
The check engine light had flashed for only a second before the car had died.
Very helpful. With a sigh, he yanked out his keys and palmed the little flashlight keychain that had been a gift from his grandfather.
His grandfather, who had left him his house.
His grandfather, who had believed in luck favoring the prepared.
His grandfather, who had died surrounded by his family, surrounded by legacy and love.
Will knew nothing about cars, but…
“Come on, Gordon,” he muttered. “Let’s see what we can see.”
With Gordon leading the way, he popped the hood and pushed out of the car.
It took Emmy a moment to realize that he wasn’t talking to an imaginary friend; he’d named his flashlight Gordon.
Was that a Flash Gordon reference? She wasn’t sure whether she should be impressed or disgusted by the pun.
At least the book was eliciting genuine reactions from her.
Shaking her head, she found her place and continued to read.
Though he’d never told anybody that he’d named his flashlight all those years ago when his grandfather had gifted it to him, he still felt a twinge of embarrassment whenever he thought about it or talked to the little inanimate object.
“Well, you should,” Emmy said, stifling another yawn. “It’s fucking embarrassing.”
Gordon illuminated the engine, the tubes, the battery, the dust-caked container for windshield wiper fluid—which he had once again forgotten to replace despite the continued insistence of the light on the dash.
He tried to see anything that was wrong, begged the fates to let him find something he could fix then and there.
It was too late to get to work on time, but if he could fix the car, he could eventually make it there to finish his shift.
But he still didn’t know anything about cars, and the fates were still cruel.
Tired, resigned, defeated, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call a tow.
Emmy read through Will’s journey to the mechanic, his somewhat contrived meet-cute with Bright, with requisite flirtation, and a rapid-fire description of his workday after he finally made it to the hospital.
She could tell she was approaching the end of the chapter—Will had just crawled into bed—and thought she could push through before calling it a night. Her bookmark was ready.
Twenty seconds later, the book flopped unceremoniously onto the floor as Emmy dropped off to sleep.