Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
PEARL
HemingwayCanSuckIt
Hey.
I miss you.
P earl’s cheeks hurt from smiling way too much the last few days.
Not to mention other parts of me are sore, too , she thought, rubbing her thighs together. That man was an all-American, all-natural, no fillers, no preservatives, grade-A horndog now. They’d fucked constantly since the festival. She’d delighted in seeing his joy and pleasure at each new position they tried.
She’d woken up every morning with his body wrapped around hers or his face between her legs.
He made her feel cared for, precious, and somehow at the same time like a slutty little fuck toy.
He really was the perfect man.
ImpossiblyBookish
you saw me one hour ago
HemingwayCanSuckIt
And you were naked.
10/10 way to start the morning.
I have something to show you when you get back to the store.
A surprise.
ImpossiblyBookish
is it your penis?
please say yes.
Her thighs clenched, remembering how hard he’d fucked her in the storage closet after their grand opening.
“I’m still bummed you canceled our bestie road trip,” Allison said, shutting the Bloom van doors. “I need a break.”
Pearl had been a teeny bit offended no one had even bothered to act surprised when it came out that she and Reed were a thing. The general consensus among the Bloom employees had been “Oh, yeah, that tracks,” and then they all just moved on to the next topic of conversation.
“How’d your trip to the jizz bank go?” Pearl said.
“Ew,” Allison said, laughing as she shuddered.
“The spank bank? The spunk bunk? The meat juice factory?”
“ Argh .” Allison covered her ears, a disgusted look on her face as she laughed. “Too far.”
Pearl laughed. It was like a cloud had lifted from her over the last week.
The fact that she was getting regular sex and had found the person who actually liked the real her?
Purely coincidence.
“No, that place was a bust,” Allison said, still shuddering after Pearl’s last phrase. “They seemed kind of sketchy, so I’m gonna keep looking around.” Allison handed her the receipts. “Here are the addresses you’re driving to.”
Pearl tossed on her sunglasses. “Let me know if you want to go search for some free-range meat juice the old-fashioned way this weekend.”
“Barf,” Allison said, laughing as she walked back inside Bloom.
Pearl input the delivery addresses on her phone’s GPS. She was going to deliver flowers to the hair salon next door to her dream bakery.
ImpossiblyBookish
i’m driving past the bakery today.
HemingwayCanSuckIt
You should talk to them again. See if they’ll lower the price.
Bet on yourself.
ImpossiblyBookish
but that’ll be years from now.
HemingwayCanSuckIt
Or maybe not!
I believe in you.
There’s no one I’d rather bet on than Pearl “ImpossiblyBookish” Bishop.
ImpossiblyBookish
my cheeks fucking HURT
stop being so ADORABLE
She smushed her cheeks together to stop smiling and thunked her head on the headrest.
Was it normal to want to barf from joy when she thought about him?
And couldn’t stop thinking about him?
I’m obsessed.
And I can’t wait to see him when I’m done with these deliveries.
She’d spent every waking moment with him for the past six weeks for chrissakes, and she wanted more.
She gasped, sitting up.
Oooooh fuck.
Oooooh no.
She thunked her head back on the steering wheel repeatedly, moaning. “Fucking shit. I think I’m in love with him.”
Pearl psyched herself up to talk to the owner of the bakery building as she stood outside of it holding the flower delivery. Courtney Forrest, the salon owner, owned both buildings.
You can do this. Maybe you’ll be extra lucky because it’s your birthday.
No one other than Luca knew when her birthday was. She’d had too many traumatizing years expecting something special as a kid and instead receiving “Were you expecting cake or some shit?” from her mom. So, she’d learned to treat it like any other day. Take it all in stride.
But maybe today she could hope for just a little bit of birthday magic.
Pearl brought in the bouquets to Tress, the only salon in Fairwick Falls. She waved down a hairdresser. “Is Courtney here?”
“She’s next door,” the hairstylist said, gesturing with scissors. “Showing somebody the space.”
Pearl walked next door with her stomach in knots. Fuck it, I can fight.
She peered into the dusty window of the vacant bakery and saw Courtney’s bright purple and turquoise locs. She was talking to somebody as they walked toward the front door, and when Pearl saw who it was, her stomach dropped.
A human toad stared at her smugly as she opened the door.
“What the fuck?” Pearl yelled. “Why?”
“I thought about getting into baking,” Beulah said flatly.
“Bullshit,” Pearl spat.
Courtney’s eyes went wide. She was tall and thin, like her brother Aaron, and as sweet as could be.
“Sorry, Courtney. Hi,” Pearl added as an afterthought.
Beulah smiled up at her. She had one of her stupid suits on with a big floppy bow at the neck. “You mentioned this was a great spot, and I thought I’d check it out. I’ve always wanted an investment property. Something I can hold onto until I die ,” Beulah said with a malicious gleam in her eye.
Hopefully soon.
Pearl’s fists clenched, her nails digging into her hands. “Why do you insist on ruining my life?”
“Don’t be so self-centered,” Beulah said, pushing past her. “They want to sell and I might buy.” She slid into her gray, boat-sized car.
“That woman is the devil incarnate,” Pearl said, glaring at Beulah. “And not like a cool devil, like this one.” She pointed to her inner arm. “Like if a paper cut was a human.”
Courtney locked the door and grimaced at Pearl. “I know you love this space. We thought it would be a good opportunity to offload the bakery since no one seems interested or…able”—she winced—“to rent from us.”
Beulah rolled down the car window as she drove away. “I’m gonna fill it with concrete gnomes!”
Pearl pointed to the car, as if proving her point.
Courtney grimaced. “Very much like a paper cut.”
The gray town car floated down the road and Pearl imagined it taking flight, ending-of- Grease style, and just never seeing Beulah again.
“Look,” Courtney said with care. “I love your vision for what you want to do. And I’d love to rent it to you, but I have to at least bring her offer to my business partner. Unless you could rent it in the next few weeks?”
Pearl sighed. “No. Don’t wait on me.” She’d never want to put Courtney in an uncomfortable situation. “It’ll be a lot longer than that.”
Maybe years.
Maybe never.
Pearl waved goodbye and trudged to finish the rest of her deliveries, trying not to cry over her already lost dream.
An hour later, Pearl pushed open the door to Bookish just as Reed flipped off the lights.
It was the day before Fourth of July, and Reed had already planned on closing the bookstore early for the long weekend, so they had a few blissful days to just sleep and rest.
And fuck .
She felt fucking giddy looking at him. Whatever was shifting between them was shifting fast.
He bent down for a long, slow kiss. The sweetness of it radiated through her.
Normally, she’d be seething with rage at a run-in with Beulah, but something about this whole situation just made her feel defeated. She’d kept the hurt to herself.
“Hey.” He pulled back, his eyes searching hers. “What’s wrong?”
She leaned into his hand and shook her head, afraid she’d burst into tears.
She didn’t cry, as a rule, and she certainly didn’t fucking cry in front of other people.
“Pearl, sweetheart. Let’s talk about it,” he said, bending down so he was eye level in front of her.
“Stop being so nice,” she said as she stepped away.
He grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Is everything okay? Luca? AB?” He sounded panicked.
She loved him for that.
Christ, you fucking love him, you dweeb.
“No, they’re fine,” she said, turning away so he couldn’t see her wipe away a tear.
His fingers stroked the back of her arm gently, his touch supportive as she stared off into the bookshop and tried not to cry.
“I’m not afraid of emotions. Not even yours. You feel things deeply; that is a gift. The world needs your rage.”
She huffed out a laugh at the ridiculous sentiment. “No, it doesn’t.”
“It’s made me f—” He cleared his throat. “Uh, it’s made Fairwick Falls a better place. So you can rage or cry or, I don’t know, do cartwheels. Whatever. I’ll be right here to support you.”
“I, um...” Her voice wobbled as she looked anywhere but at him. “I went to talk to the bakery owner.” Her voice cracked. “Somebody else might buy the building. Fucking Beulah.”
Reed wiped a hand down his face in shared frustration. “I don’t know what that woman’s problem is with you.”
“It’s just...” Her voice was cracking and wobbling now as a stupid fucking tear escaped, and she shoved at it with her hand. “It’s like the universe or whatever wants me to know that I’m never good enough. I’m too stupid. I’m not lovable. I’m impulsive. I get close to what I want and it yanks it away.”
Ugly, snotty tears fell as she lost control and cried.
Reed swiped away tear after tear.
“I just want more from this life than existing, and I don’t like having hope that things could be better. I’ve never been good at anything in my whole life,” she sobbed, barely able to get the words out. “Now I finally found it…and…and a big toad takes it away from me.”
Reed slid his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her into him, and she sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed.
Tired.
She was so tired of trying and failing of making something of herself.
Of trying to be someone worth loving.
She clutched his shirt, glad he was wearing a black compression shirt since her mascara was all over it now.
This would be so embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good .
He held her tight, his hand on her head, stroking her hair as she let it all out.
They stayed that way until his shirt was soaked, him ever patient with her.
The unending hopelessness lifted a little as her tears ran out of steam.
“Well, now I’m mortified,” she said with a sniffle into his chest.
He traced her hairline with light kisses, placing each one longer and firmer as he made his way down to her cheek, kissing away a few tears.
“Ugh, don’t look at me,” she said, putting her hand up over her eyes.
He grabbed her hand, kissing it. “You are more beautiful than ever.”
She laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s a weird kink, man,” she said, sniffling. “I’m a mess.”
Reed grabbed a tissue from the counter and handed it to her. She blew her nose.
“Yeah, you’re a mess,” he said, hand gently holding her head. “But you’re my mess.”
He took another tissue and wiped off the river of mascara that was probably on her cheeks. “Thank you for trusting me with your mess,” he said with a quick kiss on her lips. “You done?” he said, taking the tissue from her.
She nodded.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “You have every right to feel frustrated. I’m frustrated for you.”
She sighed, getting gooey again. He wasn’t one of those “Stop crying” guys like she’d had so many times in her life.
He rested his head on top of hers, and she loved the feeling of it. “We are gonna have an amazing weekend full of food and very loud sex. And for two days, we’re not gonna think about how much Beulah needs to take a short trip down a long flight of stairs.”
Pearl laughed.
“Because you are amazing,” he said, shaking her until she looked up at him. “You’re the hardest-working person I know. You’re tough. You’re loyal. You’re smart.”
She scoffed. “Lies.”
“I mean, I guess I did order and organize all the books in the bookstore by myself…”
“ What ,” she said, playfully pushing his shoulder.
His smile was instant. Shit, she’d fallen into his trap.
He kissed her temple. “Of course I didn’t. You did. Organized the ‘whole fucking bookstore,’ as you like to remind me.”
She smiled.
He adjusted his glasses. “And as for whether you’re lovable, well...”
Their gazes locked. She stopped breathing.
Reed tugged Pearl toward the back staircase. “I want to show you something. Bert finally finished all the apartment fixes.”
Okay, not exactly the declaration I expected.
They walked up the two flights of stairs to the apartment that overlooked the store. He unlocked the door.
“Maybe you can order a bed next. AB and Luca will be back any day now and I won’t be able to scream your…”
Her voice fell as she looked at the scene in front of her.
A single candle sat on a chocolate birthday cake that was covered in sprinkles, accompanied by three wrapped presents and a vase of cream flowers.
“Happy birthday,” he said, placing a slow kiss on her cheek.
Her mouth dropped open in outrage. “That motherf?—”
“Don’t blame Luca,” Reed said, placating her and fighting a smile. “I bribed him. Said I’d build an amazing treehouse for AB this fall in exchange for the date of your birthday. Joke’s on him, though; I would’ve done it anyway.”
His eyes were hopeful but a little nervous. “I thought about doing a surprise party but then I thought how much you would absolutely hate that, and I really enjoy you not hating me. You deserve every special thing today, and I’m sorry you had a bad day instead.”
She melted against his chest, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “This is so nice. ”
“Luca said birthdays were hard as a kid?—”
“Castration. That’s the only logical punishment for him?—”
He tugged her ponytail back and captured her lips, laughing. She smiled against him, licking into his mouth.
“Come on,” he murmured against her lips, but she moaned in protest, keeping him right where she wanted him.
“Preeeeesents,” he taunted.
“Oh, right,” she said, bounding over to the pile next to the cake. The flowers turned out to be old book pages twisted into blooms. Her favorite kind of flower.
Reed handed her the first present. It was big and heavy.
“I know you got frustrating news today, but this can go anywhere. Whatever your journey is, it can follow you there, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, utterly confused. They were going on a journey?
She pulled at the pretty wrapping paper, and her jaw dropped.
It was a sign with the name “Blackbird Bakery” hand-carved in a Gothic font. It was square with a rounded bump in the middle, like a sign someone would hang in a store window or on a front door.
“I hope it’s okay. We can get another one if you don't like it. I know you might have feelings about the font,” he said, worrying his lip as he looked at it.
“It’s perfect,” she said with a shocked laugh.
“It could go wherever. Maybe at your next booth or the front door of your bakery someday.”
She traced the letters with her fingers, still surprised to see her crazy idea brought to life.
“I just wanted you to know that I really believe in you, and wherever it is, it’s already real.”
“Thank you. I…” She shook her head, unable to think of what to say, setting it down on the counter.
“C’mon, next present.” He scooted the next package toward her with an excited wiggle.
“Pushy,” she reprimanded. “I like it. I wonder what it could be… A sex toy?” she said, shaking the package even though it was so obviously a book.
“You’re hilarious,” Reed said.
“You love it.” She popped onto her tiptoes and kissed his nose.
He smiled at her indulgently. “I really fucking do.”
She ripped off the paper with glee but stopped in confusion. “Anne of Avonlea?”
Maybe he didn’t know she already had a well-worn copy?
“Open it,” he said, nodding to the book.
She flipped through the pages and saw his neat handwriting in the margins. Sentences were highlighted, notes and reactions scattered throughout the pages. She gasped and clutched it to her chest. “Buddy-read notes?”
“Sorry if it’s silly?—”
“No, I love it.” She ran her hands over it, caressing it. “I like it when books have some wear on them. I like seeing what other people thought. There’s charm to it,” she said, gently setting it on top of her sign.
He held the final present in his hands, looking reluctant. “I put this together for Bookish for our weekend, and, well, it’s the weekend and you’re Bookish.” He shrugged, holding what looked like a book and not looking her in the eye. “I, um… I’m deeply embarrassed to give this to you.”
“Ooh,” she said, making grabby hands at it. “Is it?—”
“Nope, it’s not dirty. It’s worse,” he said, pulling her close to him by the belt loop of her shorts. “It’s genuine,” he said with an apologetic look, “and gooey.”
“Mm,” she groaned with a pained smile, loving it. “ And gooey?”
“Very.”
He handed it to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, squeezing her to him. She could feel the fast beat of his heart against her back.
She ripped the paper off. It was a simple, black notebook.
The first page, in his handwriting, said “Bookish Quotes.” She peered over her shoulder at him, and he grimaced.
“Sorry, this is gonna be nerdy.”
She leaned back and kissed him quickly. “You know I love a nerd.”
She flipped to the next page. A Douglas Adams quote they’d talked about a long time ago was written by hand on the page. Beside it was a note.
I knew you were special when you likened The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to a very long Monty Python and Star Wars love child.
Next to it was a quote from The Princess Bride , the novel, their first buddy read, because she had woefully never read it.
When you admitted you didn’t get the whole love-for-Buttercup thing, it was then I knew I had feelings for you. Specifically, “Why is this dude falling all over himself for some blonde? If she won’t have you at your poorest, she doesn’t deserve you at your richest, bruh.” You fight for what’s right, even if it besmirches the name of a worldwide, beloved romantic heroine. Damn the consequences, do what’s right. That’s who I wanted.
Page after page was filled with handwritten quotes from their favorite books and notes about how special she was to him.
“I started it, I don’t know, a few months ago.”
She rubbed at a spot between her breasts, feeling an ache there.
Months?
“It felt like we’d lived our…whatever we were, in books,” he said with a shy smile, adjusting his glasses.
Agatha Christie, Dr. Seuss, a Dan Brown quote (because they weren’t snobs)—each cherry-picked as she remembered them talking about the books and what they loved about them. Several Anne of Avonlea quotes, specifically ones from Gilbert to Anne, were included.
She was overwhelmed. Nobody had ever done anything like this for her. She flipped to the last page.
“I don’t recognize this one,” she said, staring at it. It was formatted like a poem.
“I, um… It’s, oh god.” he said, rubbing a hand across his eyes under his glasses, not looking at her. “I wrote it.”
“For me?” she said too loudly, shocked.
He bit his lip. “Yes.” He looked mortified. “You know what? It’s fine, you can forget it. Never mind.”
He grabbed for the notebook.
“No,” she whined playfully, holding it close to her chest. “I want my poem.”
“Pearl, it’s really bad.”
“I don’t care. It’s mine,” she said, twisting away so he couldn’t grab it. “Plus, it could be dirty .”
He smiled wistfully, leaning against the countertop, the tops of his ears turning pink. “I’m sorry to say there’s not even one Nantucket in it.”
His eyes held uncertainty, and hope.
“Well, we can always add it in later.” She smoothed out the page, giving it her full attention.
My Purpose
After years of wandering
endlessly in the pitch, my way lit by starlight
I’ve found my calling
in your bright heart,
tending its burning flames.
Your smiles are my most treasured spoils,
your tears, my greatest enemy.
I will toil, recklessly, happily, loving you
until the stars burn out one by one.
For I do not need them.
Your fiery heart will always be
enough for my eternity
Her hungry eyes read it again and again.
I will toil, recklessly, happily, loving you
recklessly, happily, loving you
happily, loving you
loving you
loving you
loving you
“Pearl.” Reed’s voice was ragged. “Please say something. I’m sorry if it’s corny. Or if it’s too much.”
She shook her head slowly as she ran her finger over the paper, feeling the indentations of his pen against the paper.
The bumps and patterns of someone who loved her enough to inspire creation.
He loved her?
She wasn’t sure if she was ready to say it back. She had to be absolutely sure.
It felt too big. Too scary.
Too not-for-her. Like an invite to a black-tie event when she’d only ever worn jeans.
“You…love me?” she said finally, looking up at him.
A tortured smile framed his face. He reached a hand out, running his hand up through her hair as he held her head, his thumb swiping her cheek.
“I have been in love with you, Pearl Bishop, since you dared me to kiss you during a summer rainstorm.”