Chapter 52
The next morning, sitting at her desk with a mug of tea, Aurelia stared at the pages in front of her, which were crisscrossed with Oliver’s notes.
Her face crumpled into a scowl at the thought of what Marmee and Marianne would have said last night if she’d told them about his visit—how she’d worried over whether to meet with all of them or spend time with him.
That thought reminded Aurelia of the story Marmee had told her—how Marigold had spent too much time with the characters and lost touch with the real world.
Though Aurelia hated to call her life during daylight hours the ‘real world,’ as if the characters mattered less because they came from books and couldn’t leave the shop.
They’d become real to her, but still, she understood the point of Marmee’s story.
And Marigold had said the same to Mark all those years ago—it doesn’t do to live in fiction.
These past months, spending time with the characters was like waking up to a world in color after living in black and white for far too long.
At first, the color had only bled through inside the shop, but now…
Now that she was writing again, now that she’d made a friend out of Oliver, now that Vronsky’s story was almost done, the color had flowed out the shop door and into the wider world, making her want to experience it again instead of keeping herself locked away.
Aurelia stood, carrying her mug to the front of the shop and opening the door to take in the warm spring morning as she watched people enjoying the square beyond.
Visiting with the characters didn’t have to be an all-or-nothing thing anymore.
Maybe it never had; she’d just done it without really stopping to consider why.
True, sticking close to the shop had helped her get through Vronsky’s book faster than she might have if she’d had a few extra lunches with Kali, or a few extra dinners (preferably non-historical ones) with David.
But now it was nearly done, it was time to find a new ‘normal’ that involved going out and being in the world.
She had the thought that getting out naturally included Oliver since he was a friend now too.
They’d gone out for coffee and walks to work on her book, but maybe now they could get together just because—no talking about her book required.
And treating him like a friend might help her put to bed certain feelings that were decidedly more than friendly.
“Put to bed,” she mumbled to herself, rolling her eyes as she closed the door and went back to her desk.
If they were really going to be friends, she’d need to think of metaphors that wouldn’t make her blush or give him the wrong impression.
She’d also need to think of some way to show him that she saw him as more than just her editor.
What would be a nice, friendly gesture? she wondered.
A walk at Highgate might be good—though she snorted a laugh at the fact that her first idea for a friendly gesture was to invite him to a cemetery.
But he’d suggested it before and she felt bad for how she’d refused.
She might very well cry—going there could easily bring up feelings of sadness and grief—but he was a friend now.
If she needed to cry, then she would cry, and they’d move on.
Aurelia nodded decisively, then called Oliver to set a date—no, to schedule their walk, she corrected herself.