Chapter 22
Week four of six came to an end, bringing them to the new year.
New Year’s was always bittersweet for Emmeline. She looked back and thought of all the things she had wanted to happen but hadn’t come true; all the things she had hoped to achieve but hadn’t accomplished; the way time continued to move but she didn’t.
Because her birthday was right after New Year’s, they always cut a cake for her at the New Year’s Eve party, and that always made her feel both happy and like she was having an existential crisis.
She was turning thirty, now, and she had imagined something far different for herself: a partner, a family of her own, the way Millie and Aiden and most of her other cousins had.
If she had to spend one more New Year’s Eve single, she was well and truly going to lose her mind.
Then again, she had said the same thing last New Year’s Eve . . .
At the same time, she knew there was a great deal to be thankful for, that she had also accomplished so much that she could be proud of. The New Year was also a fresh start, the entire year spread ahead of her like a blank canvas. There were endless possibilities and so much to be hopeful for.
She tried to focus on the positive as she went through her yearly rituals.
There was the New Year’s Eve party for the entire Sterling clan at her uncle Edmund’s.
Saphira was glowing, and Aiden was stuffing her with food every chance he got, not at all being discreet about the whole pregnancy thing.
She was sure their aunts had figured it out.
It was all lovely. She missed Millie and the kids and Samreen but, the next day, on New Year’s Day, they flew down to see them all, which was fun and gave her time to debrief her sister, who literally made popcorn as Emmeline explained everything that had happened with Luke.
After spending the day, she had flown back at night, and now, on the second of January, it was back to work, which she found she was excited for.
She was excited to see Luke again. She had gotten used to seeing him every day for the last four weeks, and now two days apart and she had . . . missed him?
Was that what this feeling was?
The thought made her antsy, but she tried not to think about it for too long.
Instead, after having breakfast, she ran errands then went directly to Tales he’d had Ola move one of the bookshelves to the side to clear a portion of the wall that they could cover back up with the bookshelf again after.
As Motu continued jumping from bookshelf to bookshelf, enjoying the empty shop, Emmeline pulled an empty display table to the section of the wall she would be doing the samples on. It was central, across from the stairs, and she wanted the coffee shop to go there.
After placing newspapers along the floor and table, she put her supplies on top: paint tins, along with small trays and paint rollers. There were four different colors she wanted to check: a sage green, a custard yellow, a periwinkle blue, and a blushing pink.
She began with the sage green, painting a foot long patch over the white. While that dried, she painted a similar column beside it in the custard yellow.
As she worked, she saw Motu out of the corner of her eye, who was now sliding down the stair railing backwards. His wings were poised to go into flight as he shot off the end, but since he was backwards, the momentum was too much, and he ended up flying into a display table.
“Motu,” she warned, as books fell to the floor. One opened over his head like a hat, and she set down her paint roller to pick up the fallen books. The baby dragon gave her an adorable smile as she put the books back in place.
“Be good,” she said, this time stern. She gave him a sharp glance, and he sat calmly on the floor. She released a breath. “Good boy.”
Setting down her paint roller, she went to her purse and grabbed a package of naan chips.
Sniffing the air, Motu perked immediately.
As she emptied the snack onto her hand, Motu made a pleased sound, bouncing over to eat them from her palm until they finished.
She scratched his chin, and he happily flapped his wings.
She went back to the table with her paints. Just then, the front door dinged, bringing in a current of cold air. Emmeline’s stomach flipped as she glanced over to find Luke entering.
Shutting the door behind him, he cleaned his shoes on the front mat before looking up at her. A smile lit his face, and she felt her pulse quicken.
“Hi,” he said, taking off his coat and walking over to her. He unwound a scarf from his neck, revealing the long line of his throat. His usual necklaces hung on his chest where his black shirt was unbuttoned.
The shop was warm, but it felt hotter now. He looked particularly handsome today, his dark hair falling in perfect swoops that made her want to sink her fingers in.
He arched a brow, and she realized she was staring.
“Hi,” she replied, voice a squeak. Oh god. Why was she acting weird? Like a girl with a crush? Ridiculous.
His lips twitched, and he leaned down to pet Motu, who licked Luke’s hand. As he went to set his things down in the office, Emmeline caught her breath. She turned back to the wall, cheeks warm as she dipped the roller into the blue paint.
“What are you doing?” he asked, coming to stand behind her a few moments later. His proximity sent sparks shooting down her spine. She could feel the heat of his chest, just inches behind her shoulder. If she leaned back . . .
“Checking paint samples,” she replied, not turning around. This was not the moment to let intrusive thoughts win.
“Mmm,” he hummed, and she could almost feel his chest vibrating behind her. She bit her lower lip. Then, she felt Luke’s hand on her elbow, steadying her arm.
She turned with wide eyes and met his amused gaze.
“Careful,” he said, nodding at her hand. She had loosened her grip on the paint roller, and the blue paint had gone into the green.
“Thanks,” she replied.
“Course.” He gave her an easy smile, then let go of her elbow. He stepped to her side, leaning against a bookshelf. “So how was your New Year’s?”
“It was good!” she replied. “I was at Millie’s. Her kids and Motu were bouncing off the walls, but that’s nothing new. How was yours?”
“Also good,” he said. “We just hung out at home. My dad had it off, so the four of us were together for the first time for a while, which was nice.”
“Aw,” she said, setting her paint roller down into the tray. “How’s Sharptooth doing? Better?”
He nodded. “All healed,” he said. “That friend of yours knows what she’s doing.”
She smiled. “I’ll be sure to let her know you said that.”
She felt more normal now, though he was still so handsome that a part of her chest felt like it would ache permanently.
Had he always been this handsome? How hadn’t she noticed before?
Surely she’d known he was good-looking in an objective way, the way models were beautiful, but today, there seemed to be an extra quality to him, as if he was the only star in the night sky. She couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to.
She watched him go as he walked around with his notebook, as if confirming things he had written down. He tapped his lips with the end of his pen, and she tried desperately not to stare at his mouth.
They fell into a comfortable silence and, as she finished off the last paint sample, she found herself glancing over at him. She liked the focused expression on his face.
A tendril of hair fell in front of his brow, and he pushed it back, but when she glanced back a few moments later, there it was again. She felt suddenly fond of that tendril, for some reason. Probably because she was losing her mind.
But it seemed she wasn’t the only one. She could feel him glancing over at her when she wasn’t looking, and every few moments, they locked gazes across the room. Each time they did, a thrill shot through her like a bolt of electricity, energy fizzing through her.
Motu continued playing, and when Emmeline glanced over next, she saw the baby dragon was bothering Luke, who was absent-mindedly petting him with his free hand. Her heart warmed.
Turning back to the paint swatches, she took pictures of each on her phone. Done with that, she closed the paint tins, but left out the trays so they could dry.
Then, she went to the bookshelves, unable to resist browsing in the shop empty of other patrons.
She ambled through the rows of shelves, losing herself to the quiet of the books.
It had been a long time since she had gone through the bookshop simply for the sake of enjoyment, reading through titles, searching for a new read.
She spotted a familiar title on the top shelf, and reached up onto her tiptoes to pull it out. She could just barely reach it, but there was no stool nearby, so she stretched, finally grabbing the edge. It slid out, landing in her hands, and she smiled.
Letters to Milena by Franz Kafka, the cover read, and she touched a hand over the words. Of course, she had read it dozens of times; each time she found herself connecting to a new passage.
Now, she flipped it open to a random part, paging through until she reached a passage she knew well.
It was where Kafka wrote about how he wished the world was ending tomorrow.
Then, he could take the next train, arrive at Milena’s doorstep in Vienna and tell her to come with him; that they would love each other without scruples or fear or restraint. All because the world was ending.
It always made her heart squeeze, and for some reason, tears filled her eyes. She read the passage again, and in doing so, she didn’t hear Luke come up toward her. It was only when she closed the book that she saw him leaning against the end of the shelf, watching her.
Hastily blinking, she pushed away her tears, giving him a shy smile.
“It’s too easy to get distracted when surrounded by so many books,” she said. He gave her a soft smile, walking over.
The space between the two shelves felt small then, as if they were in a private alcove. Her gaze went to his mouth. The first time they kissed was like this, in the narrow lane of bookshelves, surrounded by the scent of ink and paper.
Her heartbeat quickened, and she turned away from him, facing the shelf. Rising on her tiptoes, she lifted her arm to put the book back.
The top shelf was still too high, and before she could reach, she felt Luke come up behind her. His hand covered hers on the spine. Taking the book from her grasp, he slid it into place on the shelf.
He held his hand over hers, holding it against the bookshelf above her head and, slowly, she turned. Backed up against the shelf, she faced him. Desire beat through her as he leaned in, and she inhaled the scent of cypress and spruce, so deliciously wintry that she wanted to take a bite out of him.
Her heart hammered against her chest, wild and frantic as she looked up at him. His lids lowered as his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her breathing grew shallow.
Their bodies were so close she could feel the heat emanating from his skin. Anticipation pulsed through her, making her feel weak in the knees. Then, slowly, he lowered both of their hands, not letting go of her fingers as he brought her hand to his mouth.
He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her wrist. A gasp rose in her throat, and she bit her bottom lip, feeling dizzy. He lifted his dark eyes to hers, watching her reaction. Neither of them said a word, but she was sure desperation was written on her face.
She clutched the edge of the bookshelf with her free hand, trying to hold herself steady. He moved his mouth lower, biting the edge of her sweater sleeve and dragging it down to reveal the skin of her forearm.
He pressed another kiss to the sensitive skin below her wrist. Sparks skittered down her spine. She released a shuddering breath, her entire body aching.
“Luke,” she whispered, and he propped her hand onto his shoulder. She clutched the fabric of his sweater as he stepped closer, the space between them disappearing entirely.
“Em,” he whispered back, voice rough.
Ever so gently, he kissed her cheek, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt his thumb brush against her cheekbone, and she opened her eyes again to see his finger was wet. He had wiped away a tear. She hadn’t even noticed when it had slipped out.
Their gazes locked.
“Aren’t our eyes made to be torn out, and our hearts the same?” he asked, voice rough.
Her heart lurched. She knew where the rest of the passage went, it was one of her favorite parts: You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love.
There was a confession on his face, and she was afraid, but still, she leaned in. Finally, her body sighed, just as his lips brushed against hers—
And they heard a crash.