Chapter 22 #2
Theo’s voice is deep and adamant when he adds, “Yet.”
Over my shoulder, I shoot him an unimpressed glare. It’s a stop saying things like that look.
His returning lopsided grin says, no chance.
“Have you ever checked up on these places?” Mia asks.
“What do you mean?” I turn back to see her dropping to the ground beside Theo.
“How cool would it be if one of them got turned into a bookstore. Maybe it was fate,” she whispers with a hint of drama. She places a photo on her outstretched legs and swipes through her phone. “We can just do some minor stalking of the buildings to see what happened to them.”
I don’t quite know if I would be happy or devastated if one of them is a bookstore now. But I’m too curious not to sit beside her and watch as she opens the maps app and types in the town written on the back.
I pick up the photo and Theo leans over me to see it. “Definitely looks like it was downtown.”
Gramps and I are standing in front of a redbrick building, with similar structures attached on each side.
He’s in a maroon cardigan, with brown corduroy pants, his signature loafers, and his favorite newsboy cap atop his head.
My chest pinches at the sight of him. I remember him like he’s sitting in the room with us now—his deep belly laugh, his calming presence, the way he’d squeeze my hand when he knew I needed reassurance.
Mia swipes and zooms on her phone, scooting the view down a road until—she freezes. It takes all three of us a moment to glance back and forth between the photo and the screen, but then.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Look at the lines of darker brick.”
“Even the awning is the same,” Theo adds.
“Let me see,” Bree says, joining us on the ground.
Once we’ve all given our confirmation that she’s found the spot, Mia says, “Not a bookstore, then.”
“An antiques shop?” Bree asks, squinting at the screen. “Okay, that’s still cute though.” She hands over another picture. “Try this one.”
Mia flips it over and types in a new town, this one in northern California. She and Theo argue about where to search, trying a few different roads before they land on one that looks similar.
“I have a good feeling about this one,” Mia says, but when they finally spot the same building, a collective sound of disappointment swoops through the room. “Looks like a realty office.”
Bree hands her another and another after that.
Theo grabs my laptop from the kitchen so we have a bigger screen, and we search through towns all over the Pacific Northwest, sometimes giving up when we can’t find the right location.
But we do find several: a pottery shop, an art museum, architects offices, a Pilates studio, an ice cream parlor.
We’ve made it through a third of the stack when Mia lands on a location in a small town in Oregon. My heart stutters to a stop when I see the sign overhead: Barb’s Books.
“A bookstore!” Bree cheers, but I can’t even smile.
“It’s so adorable, isn’t it?” Mia clicks the link to their website. She presses on the About Us in the corner and scrolls down, reading Barb’s bio. “Oh my god, I love her already.”
There’s a heavy, achy pressure in my body, and I don’t know what it means. I draw my legs up and tuck them close. It feels like I’ve lost a competition I didn’t know I was participating in. A missed chance I didn’t take. A dream I handed over to someone else.
The shop truly seems perfect—exactly the kind of place Gramps would’ve loved. My heart hurts at the thought that I can’t go visit it with him. Someone saw the same vision he did, and he’ll never get to witness it.
I can feel Theo’s eyes on me, and I give in to the urge to look his way. His expression is gentle. He can see exactly what I’m feeling, and for the first time, I’m grateful for it. Thankful someone else is in this emotional space with me.
“Holy shit!” Bree’s outburst snaps my attention away from Theo. “This one’s in Fern River.” She flips over a new photo, back and forth to confirm.
My heart beats unsteadily. “What?” I reach for the photo and stare at the handwriting on the back. Fern River, Washington. How did I miss this?
I turn the picture over slowly, and what greets me on the other side has my mouth going dry. An electric current zips up my arm, locks into my chest, and I can’t breathe. The world feels like it’s tilting underneath me. I know this place. I work two doors down from it every day.
“Is that—?” Theo starts.
“Yes,” I croak, then swallow hard. Mia types something into the computer, but I stop her. “You don’t have to look this one up. I know where it is and . . . and . . . it’s empty right now.”
Sandwiched between the thrift shop and Wildwood Bakery sits a rental space. No one has been there since the music store moved into a bigger lot two roads over a couple of years ago.
In the photo, Gramps is in a short-sleeved shirt and vest, and I’m so tiny beside him—maybe five or six.
I’m wearing a pair of denim overalls and a dark green bucket hat, but instead of looking at the camera, like all the rest of the photos, we’re smiling at each other.
The photo is grainy, but I can feel the connection between our gazes and his hand on my shoulder.
I can see the mirth in his green eyes as clearly as if I’m standing right there with him.
Something stirs in the back of my mind, just out of reach. I can’t quite identify it, but I’m very aware of its presence.
Mia is constantly finding signs from the universe.
It was fate, when she tried a new coffee shop and overheard her now-boss discussing the fact that she needed a last-minute graphic designer.
It was meant to be, when she was getting “weird vibes” about a party in college, so she canceled, and we ended up at a bar where she met Bree.
It was destiny, she said, when her gut told her to take a new route to dinner, and she found a box of abandoned kittens on the way—one of which is now curled up in Bree’s lap.
Honestly, I’m jealous of that ability. If the universe is sending me signs, I’m either not seeing them or I have no idea how to translate them.
But something about this photo feels heavy, and I wonder if I’m supposed to be paying attention to that sensation.
Mia’s phone comes to life on her lap, her mom’s face appearing on the screen. She mutters a curse. “We’re late for dinner.”
Bree stands and sets the rest of the photos back in the box. “Eva’s gonna swat you two with a kitchen towel.”
Mia gives her fiancée a simpering smile. “And probably give you all the credit for getting us there.”
“Someone has to be the favorite,” Bree singsongs.
Mia rolls her eyes and answers the phone as they leave the room. “We’re almost there, Mama.”
Theo stands and offers me a hand. “Come to dinner with us.”
I set the photo down and let him pull me up, feeling inexplicably drawn to him. Like some invisible force is shrinking the space between us. His gaze darkens as I step closer and lift onto my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck while his circle my waist.
Pressed fully against him, I savor every detail of the hug—my fingers curling into the hair at his nape, his face buried in my neck, my toes barely touching the ground.
“You smell incredible,” he whispers against my pulse.
“So do you. Your hair . . .” I fade out, closing my eyes to inhale again.
There’s a smile in his voice when he informs me, “Last night, you said you’d like to sleep there.”
A laugh slips out of me. “I said that out loud?”
“Mm-hmm.” Fingers flex on my back, and my insides flutter with something hot and effervescent and awake. It pulls me right back to that closet.
“We kissed,” I whisper, unable to keep the thought to myself.
He leans back and looks over every inch of my face. I feel the appraisal like fire on my skin. Every part of me, from my toes to my ears, prickles with anticipation as his gaze falls to my lips. “We did.”
I curve my hands to his jaw, his stubble deliciously rough against my palms. “Is it something you’re interested in doing again?”
The golden flecks in his irises glow bright. A line appears between his brows. “Fable,” he whispers, and my lashes fall to my cheeks. “I don’t know how to explain what a ridiculous question that is.”
A hand dips into the back pocket of my jeans, and warmth swirls up my spine.
My restraint is burning away so quickly that I wonder if it ever even existed.
I want to wrap my legs around his waist. Hear him groan into my skin.
Dig my nails into his shoulders. Feel him press into me. Watch him come undone.
“Your heart’s beating pretty fast,” I whisper, leaning closer until our noses brush.
His smile curves against my cheek. “You make me nervous.”
I can’t hold back anymore. I press my lips to his, and a low, unconscious sound leaves the back of his throat.
My breath disappears again, and I’m melting from the inside out.
He kisses me like I’ve offended him by asking if he wanted this—like he needs to make it very clear how much he does.
It’s hot and hungry, wet and delicious. His grip tugs me impossibly closer, and his tongue dives into my mouth.
It’s as if he knows kissing has been boring for me in the past, and he’s determined to prove otherwise.
He’s going to fight to change my mind with every slide of his tongue, every guttural groan, every nip of his teeth.
And it’s working. He isn’t just kissing me; he’s lighting me aflame.
It might be difficult for any of my future partners to beat him at this.
My toes leave the ground. His hand grasps my thigh, and I’m about to koala myself onto him when—
“Hey, um, guys?” Bree’s apologetic voice filters down the hall. “Mia sent me in to tell you we need to go. She said she’d steal your keys if she has to.”
Theo shakes his head and calls, “Be right there.”
My feet touch the ground again, and I step back to see his expression. He looks properly kissed. Perfectly disheveled. Puffy lips and messy hair. I wish I had a picture of it.
He cups the back of my neck, fingers and thumb tucked behind my ears. “Do you get it now?” he whispers against my forehead. “How much I want to kiss you? How desperate I am for more of you?”
“I think—” I laugh shakily. “You made a very good argument.”
We take a second to help each other look presentable—me raking my fingers through his hair and him straightening my shirt—before we leave the room.
And on our way out of the house, I sneak over to stick the new photo of Gramps and me to the fridge. If this picture is a sign, I want to make sure I can see it.