Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Jesus, Zoe, you’re going to kill me! That thing you just did when you…”
Nick trailed off, and I grinned as I collapsed next to him, sending up a silent thank-you to all the romance authors whose spicy books had taught me to know what I wanted in bed, and to not be afraid to ask for it.
Mr. Wickham, who’d been sitting on the end of the bed watching us like a little pervert, let out an indignant meow and jumped inelegantly to the floor, padding out of the room in disgust.
“You can’t blame me,” I panted. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“I’m not complaining: If this is how I die, it’s a great way to go.”
I laughed as he scooped his arm around me, pulling me back into his body.
It had been twenty-four hours since Nick had reappeared in Cupid Books, and during that time, we’d not left my flat.
I knew that at some point we’d have to emerge into the world again: I was supposed to be publicizing my book, and while Gerald had been sympathetic about me taking a few days off, I was due in for a shift at Cake Expectations on Monday.
As for Nick, he had to go to the police, or the council, or whoever the hell you had to talk to when you’d been missing-presumed-dead for two years.
But I wasn’t ready to share my back-from-the-book boyfriend with the world just yet.
“I still can’t believe you’re really here,” I said, wrapping my arm around him as if he might suddenly disappear again. “It is the actual you, isn’t it? I haven’t read a fictional version of you out of my book, and the real you is still stuck in Pride and Prejudice?”
Nick laughed. “I think it’s the real me—I mean, I remember everything that happened in Pride and Prejudice and before that—but maybe book boyfriend me would think that too?”
I frowned, trying to work it out, and Nick laughed again and kissed the top of my head.
“Either way, I’m bloody happy to be here. My mum was always confident you and I would be reunited, but I’ll be honest, given my mistrust of happy-ever-afters, I wasn’t so sure.”
I looked up so I could see his face. “You know I never stopped trying to read you both out, don’t you? Even though I thought it might be hopeless, not a day has gone by when I haven’t tried.”
“And I hope you know that I never blamed you for us being stuck in that novel. I knew the risks I was taking when I got my great-aunt to read me in.”
“And yet you did it anyway,” I said, burying my face in his chest.
“Of course I did. As ridiculous as this may sound, the first day you walked into my shop, I knew my life would never be the same again. I was a goner the second I saw you.”
I grinned, my heart bursting. “You make us sound like fated mates!”
“What’s that?”
“It’s this trope where someone is inexplicably attracted to another person, and it turns out they’re destined to be together. It’s big in the paranormal romance subgenre: werewolves, fairies, that sort of thing.”
Nick laughed. “It’s funny you should say that, because my mum once said something similar.”
“What, that she was into werewolf romance?” I said, wincing as I imagined Nick’s mum reading about knotting.
“No, although she may be, for all I know. I meant Mum mentioned this theory she had about how you got your book magic.”
I pushed myself up onto one elbow, suddenly serious. “What was it?”
“OK, well this is going to sound bonkers…” Nick paused, his cheeks going pink in such an adorable way that I had to use all my self-restraint not to kiss him.
“A few weeks after you read yourself out, Mum asked me when I realized I was in love with you, and I told her it was the first time you came into the shop, specifically when you told me that you’d punch me if I’d never heard of Jane Austen. ”
“OK,” I said, trying to sound casual while internally screaming, NICK JUST SAID HE WAS IN LOVE WITH ME!
“My mum said that maybe in that moment, when I first fell for you, it’s possible that I somehow transferred my family’s book magic over to you.
” He paused again, his blush so deep he was basically the color of a tomato.
“I’m sorry, I know how unhinged that sounds.
But it would explain why you suddenly acquired the power and were able to read Darcy out that night. ”
“I see,” I said, because what else were you meant to say to something like that?
Nick lifted my chin so he could look me in the eye. “Are you OK? You look a bit spaced out; have I freaked you out?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s just kind of a weird idea, isn’t it? That you could somehow pass your mum’s magic to me, like a static shock or the flu.”
He smiled. “Like I said, it was only a theory of hers, so it could be that you had the ability all along and it was just a coincidence it happened the first time that night. But that was why Mum was so confident you’d read me out eventually, because she thought the magic you had was somehow connected to me, you just didn’t know how to use it properly yet. ”
“I still have no idea how to use it,” I said with a sigh. “Last night, I wasn’t even trying to read you out. I was just visualizing you in Baskerville Books when I read my opening chapter, and I felt this overwhelming happiness and then—”
I stopped as a memory flashed into my mind, and then another, snatches of conversation tumbling one after the other like dominoes.
“My God, Mrs. Atallah was right! I don’t need you…”
Nick blinked. “Eh, OK.”
“No, hear me out,” I said, pushing myself up into a sitting position.
“You told me that the book magic only worked when someone has a problem and they need help from a fictional character, right? So the night I accidentally read Darcy out of Pride and Prejudice, he must have appeared because I really needed his help. I was lonely and grieving, and I’d given up on real-life relationships and on my dream of writing.
Darcy helped me with all those things, but more than anything, he made me realize that I wanted more from my life and that I deserved my own happy-ever-after.
And then you came along, Nick Baskerville… ”
I saw his pupils dilate as I said this, and I leaned over to kiss him.
“You loved me from the moment you first saw me, even though I thought you were a sexist prick and avoided you at all costs. You risked your life by following me into Pride and Prejudice, you believed in my ability to rescue us, even when it seemed impossible, and you made my heart burst with happiness. You were everything I wanted—everything I thought I needed—and when I lost you in the book, I thought my chance at happiness was over.”
Nick smiled as I said this, but it was a wistful one. “And you’re saying you’ve realized that’s not true?”
I lifted my hand up to brush a lock of hair off his face.
“Shortly after I came back from Pride and Prejudice, Mrs. Atallah told me that there was a difference between loving someone and needing them. But I didn’t believe her, and so I’ve spent the past two years trying to read you and your mum out by focusing on how I needed you both here to make me happy.
And I think that’s why it never worked before, because Mrs. Atallah was right: I don’t need you, or anyone else, to give me my happy-ever-after.
I can do that all on my own, just like I did last night at my book launch when I stood in front of a room full of my loved ones and felt so proud of myself. ”
Nick smiled, warmer this time. “Haven’t I always told you: Nowadays in romance novels, the heroine saves themselves.”
I laughed, punching him lightly in the arm.
“But then, what changed last night?” Nick asked, grabbing my fist and kissing it. “What did you do differently so that the book magic suddenly worked?”
“I think it worked because I finally focused on a problem that I did need your help with, even though I didn’t realize it at the time,” I said.
“Do you remember how you once told me I should never give up on something I loved, and I just had to believe in myself? Well, last night, when I was reading in the bookshop, I told myself that my book magic had gone, and I gave up on the idea of ever being able to read you back. And that was the moment you reappeared, to prove to me that I was wrong.”
Nick paused for a second, clearly thinking it through. “So you didn’t need me here to make you happy, but you did need me here to prove to you that your book magic hadn’t disappeared.”
“Exactly! At the moment at which I gave up, you reappeared to show me—once again—that I should never do that.”
Nick frowned. “And did it work? Have I proven to you that your magic works?”
“Let’s see, shall we?” I said with a smile, reaching past Nick to pick up a book from my bedside table.
“Hang on a second, are you sure this is a good idea?” he said, and I could hear the sudden anxiety in his voice. “I’ve already watched you disappear in agony twice, and I never want to see it again.”
“I won’t, I promise,” I said, opening the book and flicking through until I found the bit I wanted.
“Please just be careful,” he said, kissing my shoulder lightly.
I sat up straight and started to read out loud from the chapter in Pride and Prejudice where Elizabeth first meets Wickham in Meryton—the same chapter where I first met Maggie. As I did, I pictured her standing at the end of the bed, smiling down at me and Nick.
Hey, Maggie, I said to her in my head as I read.
So, I’ve spent the past two years trying to read you and Nick out, but I was going about it all wrong.
I thought I needed you here to help me be happy again, but I’m the only one responsible for my own happiness.
In fact, the truth is, I don’t need your help at all, so I can’t read you back out for myself.
But I’ve realized I know someone who does need your help.
You see, my friend, Jing, is renting the old Baskerville Books site and has turned it into a fantastic romance bookshop.
But the problem is, Cupid Books is struggling.
It can’t compete with the big chain bookstores up the road, and Jing’s been dealing with a load of stuffy old gits who keep complaining that she sells smut.
At my book launch, she told me that she’s worried she’s not going to be able to make the rent next month and thinks she might have to close the shop.
And I really don’t want that to happen, because the world out here is a total bin fire right now, and London needs a bookshop that celebrates the power of romance stories and happy-ever-afters.
So what do you reckon, Maggie? Bookselling is in your blood, so will you help Jing make Cupid Books the success it deserves to be?
I stopped reading and held my breath as I looked up from the page, but there was no one in the room except Nick and me. I tried to quell the crush of disappointment.
“Hey, it’s OK,” Nick said, putting his arm around me and pulling me to him. “Thank you for trying.”
“I won’t give up,” I said, nestling back into his chest. “I know I can do this, so I’ll keep trying until—”
I was interrupted by Mr. Wickham, who came sprinting into the room and leaped up onto the bed, his fur on end so he looked like a gigantic ball of gray cotton wool.
“Hey, big guy, what’s the matter?” Nick said, a question that the cat answered by lashing out and scratching his hand.
“Ow, the little bastard!” Nick laughed, pulling his hand back.
“It was probably a bird at the window. Mr. Wickham pretends to be a tough guy, but he’s a total wuss,” I said. “Still, I should probably feed him. Are you hungry? I could make my famous spaghetti Bolognese for dinner, or Mrs. Atallah taught me and Darcy how to make a mean lamb curry.”
“I’ve got a real craving for pizza,” a voice called from outside the bedroom door. “Once my stomach’s stopped hurting, maybe we could order one—extra cheese?”
Nick and I both froze, and the only sound was Mr. Wickham’s terrified hiss.
“Mum?” Nick gasped.
I heard a tinkling laugh. “Are you two decent in there? Because as much as I want to run in and hug you both, the last thing I need is to see either of you naked.”
Nick laughed, his eyes filling with tears. “I love you, Zoe Knight. Thank you!”
I grinned back. “I love you too. Thank you for making me believe in myself—and promise me you’ll never say you don’t believe in happy-ever-afters again!”