Chapter Forty
Rosalia
I lock the door of my bookstore and flip the sign to “Closed.” The street outside is mostly empty, with only a few people braving the rain.
I prepare a mug of ginger and turmeric tea and carry it to the checkout counter.
The warmth and aroma comfort me. Settling onto a stool and opening my laptop, a surge of hope ripples through me.
Refusing to let Sebastian’s betrayal and Thorne’s cruelty rob my dreams, I’ve thrown myself into work, planning events and brainstorming ideas for the future. Saving my Novel Idea has become my singular focus, which is what I need to avoid dwelling on my heartache.
I glance at my phone’s bank notification and vindication flares in my chest. A week of intense fundraisers has paid off—literally.
Author readings and book signings haven’t just brought literature lovers through my doors; they’ve brought financial salvation.
I’ve got enough money to buy a vacant storefront down the street.
It’s not as nice as this place, but at least the move will be easier.
The bookshop will truly be mine now, bought not rented, with enough left over to start dreaming bigger.
Clicking open my spreadsheet, I take in the numbers that once seemed impossible to reach.
I’ve proven to myself these past weeks that I can solve my problems without anyone else’s rescue.
The Blackstone brothers’ machinations forced me to discover a resilience I didn't know I had. If only I’d understood my own capabilities before they entered my life, perhaps my heart wouldn’t be quite so battered now.
And that’s the most infuriating thing: since I walked away from Sebastian, I miss him more, not less.
It’s a constant internal fight not to call him.
I’ve deleted and restored his number three times now.
The memory of his laugh when I’d recommended that ridiculous mystery novel haunts me, along with the way his eyes had crinkled at the corners when he smiled, a genuine smile, not the practiced one he used in business meetings.
Was any of it real? It felt so genuine. But was each shared moment calculated, part of a strategy to win a bet I hadn’t even known existed?
“Focus on what’s important,” I mutter, turning my attention back to my laptop.
A sharp rap on the locked door jolts me so hard that tea sloshes from my cup onto the counter. I should be used to it by now. Most nights, bar revelers on Whiskey Row mistake Novel Idea for some literary-themed bar.
But the person isn’t a stranger. It’s Sebastian’s lawyer, Daniel, who waves at me with the hand not holding an umbrella. With the other, he’s pointing for me to unlock the door .
I consider hiding under the counter. But given that we’ve made eye contact, I’d look like a weirdo.
Sighing, I walk to the door and twist the lock. A quiet clunk reverberates through the store. Pulling on the knob, the pleasant, earthy scent of petrichor fills my lungs. I ask over the rain, “Can I help you?”
“I apologize. I didn’t realize your store would be closed,” he says.
“The weather will keep customers away, so I decided to close early and get caught up on paperwork.” I'd also hosted a children's event earlier today that was immensely successful, but the strain of being on my feet all day had drained me.
Lightning flashes across the sky, followed by the angry bark of thunder. “Come inside,” I tell him, stepping aside to let him enter.
The damp squeak of Daniel’s shoes on the hardwood floor echoes through the quiet store as he follows me. Instead of returning to the counter, I stop at the small reading nook and motion for him to sit. I take the chair across from him, settling into the sage velvet cushion.“How can I help you?”
“I have some documents that need your immediate attention,” Daniel says, pulling out his briefcase.
“I should have hidden under the counter,” I mutter.
Daniel frowns. “That’s not very nice.”
During normal circumstances, I’d find his pout amusing, but he’d been the bearer of very bad news the last time he came to my bookstore bearing documents, and I tell him as much.
“Fine, that’s fair,” he concedes. “But I bring good news this time.”
After the months I’ve had, I’m all for good news and nod for him to continue.
He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out an envelope. “This came across my desk this morning.”
I take it cautiously, as if it might bite. Inside are two documents on Blackstone company letterhead. One is a lease renewal, and the other is a lease-purchase agreement—for this building. Thorne Blackstone’s signature is on both.
“I don’t understand,” I say, reading through the terms. “Why? ”
Daniel shrugs. “Honestly? I’m not sure. Thorne didn’t explain his reasoning to me. Change of heart?”
“You have to have a heart first,” I retort dryly. “There has to be a catch.” I flip through the pages again, searching for the loophole I must be missing.
“I’ve gone through it line by line. It’s clean.” Daniel leans forward. “Sometimes people surprise you. Even Thorne.”
I set the document down, unsure how to process this unexpected lifeline from the last person I’d expect to throw one. The possibility feels too fragile, like it might vanish if I acknowledge it.
“This building…” I whisper, unable to finish.
This building I've come to love, the worn brick exterior and the morning light streaming through tall windows, could actually be mine. Not just the business, but the space itself.
“Are you okay?” Daniel asks.
“Wow, um, yes.” I nod. “I just need to wrap my brain around it. I had it set that I have to move. Remodel a new place. Leave one that I love. And now I don’t…”
Daniel clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Do you still have an open spot for this upcoming Tuesday?” he asks.
The subject change snaps me back to business mode. “Yes.” I don't ask how he knows my schedule. He's dating Anne, who’s been a huge help in saving my bookstore.
He names the “it” author of the year.. “Would she work to fill the empty slot?”
I cough out a choked gasp. “How—” My eyes narrow, and I repeat, “How? Why would she come here?”
His gaze darts away.
“Daniel…” I warn.
“I’m not supposed to tell you…”
“Is Sebastian behind this?” Damn, it hurts even to say his name, but the suspicion that’s been forming needs answers. “Is the massive anonymous donation from him too?”
Daniel’s silence is answer enough .
My heart stutters in my chest, and I hate that he still affects me like this. Merely talking about him shouldn’t have this effect on me anymore. He’s not good for me.
Why does that feel like a lie?
“Why is he doing all this anonymously?” I ask, though I think I know.
Part of me wants to be furious that Sebastian is inserting himself into my life after everything that happened. But another part—the traitorous part that still misses him—is touched that he’s supporting me without expecting credit or thanks.
Or is this some angle he’s working?
Daniel holds up his fingers, counting off the reasons. “One, he’s afraid you won’t accept if you know it’s from him, and he truly believes in your programs. Two, he doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to buy your forgiveness.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He’s not?”
“Did you miss the part about him not wanting you to know?” He asks gently.
I’m torn in two directions. There’s a softness and ache for the man I’d been falling for, but also a heavy dose of unease. I’d learned the hard way that accepting help from the Blackstones comes at a steep price.
As if reading my thoughts, Daniel says, “He’s not some evil villain twirling his mustache.”
I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “He doesn’t even have a mustache.”
Daniel grins, holding a hand palm up. “See, that proves he’s not an evil villain.”
“Yeah, just your typical arrogant rich jerk,” I grouse, my tone lacking true venom.
“I get that what he agreed to was dumb, but the bet wasn’t his idea. He was manipulated into agreeing.” He rests his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers. “Sebastian isn’t a bad guy.”
“Says the guy who merrily wrote up the bet contract.”
Daniel scowls. “There was nothing merry about that shit.” His expression softens. “Look, I agree that the bet was a terrible idea, but he was manipulated into agreeing. ”
I blink. Sebastian? “I find that hard to believe. He’s a shrewd businessman who seems highly intelligent, not someone who’s easily manipulated.”
“I agree. He isn’t, but Thorne knows him. Knows his weakness.”
“Which is?” I ask.
“You.”
“Me,” I point at myself and scoff. “He runs Blackstone Bourbon. If he cared about me so much, he could have renewed my lease. Instead, he sat back and let it happen.”
“Sebastian has a lot of responsibilities within the company, but property management isn’t one of them,” Daniel explains. “He wasn’t involved in the lease decisions.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He’s the head of the company.”
“Yes, but Blackstone is bigger than most people realize.” Daniel pauses, clearly weighing how much to share. “Look, I shouldn’t be the one telling you all the details. There’s a lot about what happened between Sebastian and Thorne that should come from him.”
“Yet you’re here to defend him?” I cross my arms.
“I’m here because I think you deserve to know that things weren’t as simple as they might have seemed. The bet was... complicated. And yes, what Sebastian did was wrong, but there were factors you don’t know about.”
My gaze falls to my lap. Part of me wants to hear everything now, but another part knows Daniel is right. If I’m going to listen to the full story, it should come from Sebastian.
“Thorne and Sebastian have a complex relationship,” Daniel continues. “Family businesses can bring out the worst in people, especially with their father’s influence looming over everything.”
“You’re being vague,” I huff.
“Intentionally,” he admits. “This isn’t my story to tell. All I can say is that Sebastian had reasons for what he did, and they weren’t as selfish as you might think. ”
“You know, I had initially refused Thorne’s help. Then suddenly, no bank would give me a loan or even return my calls.” I pause. “It’s all connected, isn’t it? He orchestrated everything from the beginning.”
“I don’t know for certain, but I suspect you’re right,” he admits.
I stand up, pacing between the bookshelves. The rain outside intensifies, mirroring the storm inside me. “He didn’t just threaten my lease. He blocked my loans, cornered me into accepting his help, all to teach Sebastian some lesson?” My voice rises with each word, anger burning through my veins.
“Thorne’s… complicated,” Daniel offers weakly.
“Complicated is a fancy word for manipulative,” I snap. The lease documents on the table now appear in a different light. Not salvation, but another chess move in a game between brothers.
I stand abruptly and run my hand along a shelf of nearby books, needing their comfort. “And Sebastian passively let it happen.”
“That’s not entirely—”
“He didn’t stop it. He didn’t talk to me,” I sigh. The anger that flared so brightly dims, replaced by something more complicated. Despite everything, I miss him. My heart still wants him.
“He couldn’t talk about it. Like you, he signed an NDA.” Daniel stands and moves to my side. “He’s been trying to make things right from the very beginning.”
“What do you mean?”
“Talk to him. Let him tell you everything.” He turns, goes to his briefcase, and zips it shut. “About the author for Tuesday, she’ll be here regardless of what you decide about Sebastian. I’ve already confirmed with her, and she’s excited about the event. Your ‘anonymous donor’ made sure of that.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “So he didn’t merely secure her, but made it ironclad?”
“He wanted to ensure you had the help you needed, no strings attached.” Daniel shrugs, a smile playing at his lips. “Like I said, supporting what matters to you. ”
The rain drums against the windows, filling the silence as I consider all he’s said. My fingers absently trace the spine of a nearby book. I glance at it and laugh softly. It’s the romance novel I recommended to Sebastian months ago.
“I should hate him,” I whisper, more to myself than to Daniel.
“But you don’t.”
No, I don’t. That’s the most maddening part of all. Despite the betrayal, despite the hurt, there’s a stubborn corner of my heart that still believes in what we shared. That still misses him.
I return to my seat and pick up the lease documents. “Tell Thorne I’ll review these with my lawyer before signing anything.”
Daniel nods. Walking toward the door, he hesitates before exiting. “Sebastian has never been the villain of this story, Rosalia. He was someone who made a mistake.”
After he leaves, I’m alone with the rain and my thoughts. The shop creaks and settles around me, filled with ghosts of what was and whispers of what could be. Each book is a repository of other people’s second chances, other people’s forgiveness.
I run my fingers over the lease agreement, thinking about second chances and whether some betrayals can be forgiven. Could it be like water, eroding what was solid, or might it, given enough time, carve something unexpected and beautiful from the wreckage?
The memory of Sebastian from around the first time we met surfaces. He’d said, “Some stories don’t end where you expect them to.” This is very true of us. But is ours over?
I’m not ready to forgive. Not yet. But for the first time since walking away, I’m ready to listen.
And that’s the first page of whatever comes next.