Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Ikeep going over yesterday. Not because it was some fairytale, but because it felt like something I didn’t see coming. Something real—right up until I remembered I’m not supposed to trust days like that anymore.
Lucas’s laugh is still tucked somewhere behind my chest, that soft, surprised sound he made when I told him he smelled like books.
And then there’s the way his thumb brushed sugar from my cheek, gentle, like it wasn’t the first time he’d done it.
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe, in some strange storybook way, we’ve been here before.
It was a good day, a really good day, and that’s the problem. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe I should just let him in.
I turn my head towards the nightstand. My phone sits there, dark and silent. I don’t check it. Instead, my eyes fall to my journal lying open, pen still nestled in the spine from where I’d forgotten to cap it. I pull it into my lap and start writing before I can overthink.
I thought I made it up, but I lived it yesterday. Every word on that page is real, and it scares me how much I want it to keep going. Because if I love it too much, what happens when the next chapter doesn’t go the way I wrote it?
I close the journal and stay put, legs tucked beneath me. I still don’t know what comes next but, for once, that doesn’t feel lonely.
By late morning I want noise that isn’t mine. I text Marley.
LILAH: Hey you home?
Her reply lands in seconds.
MARLEY: Get over here. Tess made pancakes.
I pull on a sweater, pocket my phone, and walk the three blocks to Tess and Marley’s. The closer I get, the lighter I feel.
The scent of vanilla pancakes and chai drifts through the apartment, wafting around the sound of Fleetwood Mac playing low through speakers.
I flop onto the couch, a steaming mug of peppermint tea warming my hands, trying not to spill as Marbles—Marley’s cat—does an Olympic leap from the bookshelf to the windowsill.
Their apartment is somehow both tidy and chaotic, like it couldn’t decide if it is ruled by colour-coded systems or creative impulse. Which made sense, considering who lived here.
Tess’s influence is in the neatly folded blankets, the matching dinner ware lined up in the cupboard, the soft sage-green runner down the hallway.
Marley’s touch is everywhere else. Polaroids pinned to the fridge with novelty magnets, books stacked in places books aren't meant to be, and the cat—who I am convinced has a personality disorder but somehow always finds his way to your lap when you needed him.
Across from me, Marley is perched on a barstool, drizzling honey over a fruit bowl with one sock half off her foot. Tess slouches in the armchair, hair still damp from the shower, flicking through her phone but clearly listening. It shouldn’t have worked. But somehow it did, just like them.
‘So?’ Marley grins, spoon in hand. ‘You’re smiling like someone who got kissed at the end of a rom-com.’
Tess raises a brow. ‘You owe us a full rundown.’
I exhale a breath that feels like it had been waiting all day. ‘Okay. It was actually kind of perfect.’
Marley lets out a low whistle. ‘Go on.’
‘He met me there. He smiled and it was ridiculous how quickly I believed in the good again.’ I laugh, shaking my head.
‘Then he hugged me, and it wasn’t a big deal.
Except, he smelt like… God, warm and woody, like cedar and clean laundry, and something that made my brain stop working. I literally glitched out.’
‘Book boyfriend cologne,’ Marley says knowingly.
‘Exactly,’ I sigh.
Tess is watching me closely. ‘You look lighter than you have in weeks.’
‘It’s not just that, it was nice,’ I say. ‘We wandered the fair and talked about everything, our favourite childhood reads and slow burns, and he confessed to writing Eragon fan fiction. But won’t let me read it.’
Marley beams. ‘A fantasy nerd with emotional availability? I could weep.’
I smile, then add, ‘The weirdest thing happened.’ I hesitate, my voice softening, ‘We turned the corner, and I saw a man buying a book for his niece. A copy of Persuasion, with red thread binding. It was…’ I swallowed, ‘it was a scene straight out of my book, like word for word.’
The room goes still, Fleetwood Mac humming quietly in the background.
Tess sits forward. ‘You think it is a coincidence?’
‘I don’t know.’ I stare into my mug. ‘It felt like déjà vu. Because I wrote that scene, and now I’m living it. What if I’m just chasing fiction? What if I’m falling for something I created?’
Marley shakes her head. ‘Babe. If you manifested a hot, emotionally intelligent bookstore owner, who gives you butterflies and churros? I say run straight into the plot.’
Tess is gentler, ‘Maybe it’s not fiction catching up. Maybe you just wrote something true before you were ready to live it.’
I tip my head. ‘It’s weird when the story turns around and looks back at you.’
‘I’ll bet.’
I smile softly. ‘He even picked out a bookmark for me. It was all very cute.’
Marley gasps dramatically. ‘If this man turns out to be secretly married, I will personally burn down Inkwell & Ivy.’
I laugh, but my eyes sting. ‘He kissed me right before I left.’
‘And?’ Tess asks. ‘How did it feel?’
‘Wait, why didn’t you lead with that?’ Marley interrupts.
How did it feel?
‘It was amazing, I felt hopeful. Like it meant something, but I am scared to let him in… Let go even.’
Tess reaches across the space and squeezes my hand. ‘That’s okay,’ she reassures. ‘Both can exist.’
Marley sniffles, dramatically dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. ‘God, this is worse than The Notebook. I’m officially useless.’
Tess rolls her eyes. ‘You cry during Finding Nemo.’
‘And I’m not ashamed,’ Marley declares, sitting up straighter. ‘This is a safe space for emotional outbursts, and apparently hot bookstore men who smell like character development.’
Tess’s phone lights up. She glances at it, then at me, failing to hide a smile. ‘Quick work update while we’re already emotional. A major podcast wants Lola next week, and Sydney Book Fest reached out about a panel.’
My mouth falls open. ‘Um… Like in person?’
‘We can say no. No pressure.’
Marley’s already pulling up analytics. ‘Lola’s socials are on fire. The faceless Q&A from Wattlewood Press? Highest watch time you’ve ever had. The number of saves is wild.’
‘Great,’ I say, half laughing. ‘My anxiety just hit a million views.’
The words should thrill me. Instead, they settle heavy in my chest, a success I can’t quite claim out loud.
Late—I am going to be late if I don’t move right now. I live above the cafe, so I can't be late. It takes fifteen minutes to will myself to get up and shower. I rush downstairs in a flurry.
The bell above the door chimes as I step inside, the familiar scent of espresso, vanilla, and warm bread settling over me like a weighted blanket.
It is early, not quite rush hour yet, but the energy in the cafe is already buzzing.
There are students hunched over laptops, locals reading the paper, and someone laughing near the pastry case.
Behind the counter, Rey looks up from the coffee machine narrowing her eyes playfully. ‘Back from your romantic pilgrimage?’
‘Book therapy are the words you are looking for,’ I correct her.
She hands me a coffee. ‘Iced vanilla latte on oat milk. You’ve got that post-first-kiss daze in your eyes.’
I take a sip. ‘You’re terrifying.’
‘I’m observant,’ Rey corrects me. ‘And you’re glowing. What happened? Did he confess his love?’
‘Not quite,’ I say with a grin. ‘But there were churros and cinnamon sugar, and a very good-smelling button-up shirt.’
Before she could ask for more details, the back door swings open with a soft thud. Nettie breezes in, wearing her signature flour-stained apron.
‘Morning, girls!’ she chirps. ‘Is the world still standing?’
‘Barely,’ Rey mutters, rinsing out the porta filter. ‘Lilah’s floating three foot above it.’
Nettie arches an eyebrow at me, catching my half-dreamy, half-dazed expression. She nods with sage-like understanding. ‘Ah, one of those weekends.’
I smile but shake my head. ‘I’m here to work. Promise.’
‘Mm.’ She unties her scarf, hanging it behind the counter. ‘That’s fine. But just remember, love,’ she waves it off. ‘After the rush. For now, let’s sort out the coffees.
Have you thought any more about my offer to take over here?’
I haven't given her an answer. I still feel unsure. But rather than let fear take over, I say, ‘Yeah, Nettie. I’m in.’
‘Thank God for that,’ she replies quickly. ‘We can hash out the details later. I need to get back to the kitchen.’
Rey passes me a cloth, bumping my shoulder lightly. ‘Fuck yes. Welcome back to the chaos.’
And for the first time in a long time, it felt kind of like peace.
After my shift, I take advantage of the late winter afternoon, deciding to take a walk around town.
As I pass Inkwell & Ivy, I notice the lights are still on.
Lucas is inside with Jasper and a few locals.
Forearms resting on the counter, thumb idly tracing a book spine like he’s thinking. When he laughs, it opens the room.
He doesn’t see me. I take a step, something pulling me towards him.
I whisper to myself. ‘What do I have to lose?’
Just as I go to push open the door, I notice a ginger-and-white cat curled on the bookshop’s bench, tail wrapped neatly around her paws like she owns the place.
She lifts her head the second she notices me—blinks once, slow and assessing—then hops down and pads over as if I’m expected.
‘Oh,’ I whisper. ‘Hi there.’
She weaves around my ankles, purring loudly and confidently, like she’s greeting a regular. I crouch to stroke the soft patch between her ears, and she presses into my hand as though we’ve known each other for years.
A voice drifts from behind the door. ‘Careful, she’ll adopt you if you give her more than three seconds.’