Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
I’d been doing fine—right up until the market went to hell. One minute I had been weaving through stalls, sunlight, and cinnamon in the air. The next, Justin was in Lilah’s face, drunk and furious, spitting her name like an accusation.
I still feel the shock of it. The way her shoulders tightened, and her voice shrank even though she tried not to. The way he stepped closer, and she didn’t know where to go. Something in me had snapped when he shoved me. Luckily, Ezra pulled him off before I could do something stupid.
But Lilah… God. She was shaking. Not visibly to anyone else, but I saw it. I felt it.
Now I’m here, trying to play it cool. The store is tidy, light soft through the ivy-framed windows. Everything looks normal, but Jasper’s known me too long; he can tell something’s off.
‘You’re spiralling,’ he says, smug. He leans on the counter with something iced.
I can still see her, sunlight in her hair, the hitch when our eyes met. It’s under my skin, and no amount of shelf-straightening is shaking it loose.
Without looking up, I rearrange the new-release display for the third time. ‘I’m not spiralling.’
'You organised the poetry shelf by colour, then by author. That’s either psychosis or a cry for help.’
The bell over the door chimes, and Tess breezes in like divine intervention or chaos, it’s hard to tell. Clipboard in hand, she looks like she’s about to ruin someone’s day. Probably mine.
I straighten. ‘Tess. Hey.’
She slides off her glasses, studies me, then glances at Jasper. ‘He’s been like this all day?’
‘Worse,’ Jasper chirps.
Tess doesn’t waste time. She crosses the floor like a mission with legs and holds out a small box. ‘A gift,’ she says. ‘From Lilah.’
I blink, unsure what to say as I take the box, turning it over in my hands before opening it.
Inside I find a leather bookmark, warm in my palm.
A quiet offering from the day everything started to shift.
I look up at Tess, not sure what to say.
Flipping it over, my thumb catches on something, a slip of paper tucked in the back. I unfold it and read:
Lucas,
I don’t know what page this finds you on. Maybe somewhere between the truth and whatever comes next. But you once told me that stories don’t always have to explain everything. Sometimes, they just have to stay.
I’m still here and I want to stay.
Lilah
I trace the words, thinking of how she looked this morning at the market, close enough to reach. That moment has been stuck under my skin ever since.
Tess doesn’t waste time and stares me down with that unblinking look she has when she knows she’s right. ‘You’re in love with her.’
I don’t hesitate. ‘Yes. Absolutely yes.’
‘Then don’t plan some big gesture,’ she says firmly. ‘Just show up.’
‘Show up for what?’
Tess smiles, maddeningly vague. ‘Inkwell she already did that. She needs someone who won’t ask her to disappear to be loved. I’m not perfect. I won’t be. But I can be constant, and I can love her in a way that never asks her to shrink.
Maybe that’s enough.
I don’t ask Tess for more details, I know she won’t give them, but I throw myself into the work. Whatever Tess asks, I do. The front display? Cleared. Fairy lights? Re-hung, my hands shaking enough that I have to redo them twice.
I find the old “Romance Corner” sign tucked under the counter, brush off the layer of dust, and hook it back into place.
Tess orchestrates like she’s running a military operation, directing Jasper to haul tables, shifting chairs herself, stepping back to adjust angles according to lighting.
She has a playlist already queued on her phone.
Flowers arrive, then pastries, and she’s moving faster than anyone can keep up.
Jasper reappears with a brownie in hand, like always, eyebrows raised. ‘You look like you’re on autopilot,’ he says, chewing. ‘You okay?’
I smirk but don’t answer right away. What is it with him and brownies? He leans beside me in the doorway, watching people drift across the street.
My gaze drifts to the bench across the way. The one where she told me her story. Where we sat with coffee and let the morning stretch.
‘The bench,’ I murmur, half to myself, half to him.
‘Bro, what? What are you talking about?’ Jasper asks, frowning around another bite of brownie.
‘I made a promise,’ I say, already moving. ‘I’ll be back.’
‘Wait, what?’ he calls after me. But I’m already out the door, keys in hand, walking fast towards home.
The bench has been sitting on my to-do list for months, but after seeing her today and doing nothing, I can’t leave it any longer. If I can’t fix everything else, I can at least fix this.
By the time I’m halfway through sanding, Jasper wanders up, hands in his pockets. He squints at me, then at the bench. ‘Wow, man. Looks good out here. Why are you doing that now?’
I keep working, not meeting his eyes. ‘Lilah told me this old story, that if you sit here long enough, the right person shows up. People write on the path too, and if the rain washes it away, it’s meant to come true.’
Jasper stares at me with the blankest expression, like I’ve just started speaking another language. Finally, he says, ‘That’s… so poetic?’
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. ‘I promised I’d restore it the morning we sat here with coffee. I just hadn’t gotten round to it. Figured now’s the time.’
He shrugs. ‘I like it. She will too.’ He disappears back inside.
I wipe my palms on my jeans, pick up the chalk, and crouch low. It feels stupid and hopeful all at once, but I write anyway:
Still here, still yours, page by page.
When I stand, brushing chalk dust from my fingers, Tess is there. She doesn’t say much, just takes it in, then smiles. ‘She’ll love it, Lucas.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
Her gaze drops, catching on a scrap of paper wedged in a crack along the pathway. She crouches, slips it free, and smooths it open in her palm. A pink heart—origami, I think. Her breath hitches, so soft I almost miss it, and she tucks the heart quickly into her pocket.
I part my lips to ask if she’s okay, but she’s already turning, heading inside.
That was strange.
Shaking my head, I stare at the bench, the chalk, the path ahead of me. In a few hours, she’ll be here. And I’ll be here. To choose whatever we’re building.
Because after today, I know this for certain: I want a future with her—slow, honest, and built with both of our hands.
A place she doesn’t have to shrink. A place I’m steady enough to stay.