“Really?” I said to the person holding up their phone, but they just gave me a thumbs-up. “No, I haven’t read the dedication.”
A wave of mumbles spread through the crowd. My name was whispered from row to row. Cameras went up. Heads bent overbooks. I had the uneasy feeling that everyone in the room knew something about me. Something I was just about to find out.
“Maybe you should,” John said, watching me squirm under the weight of everyone’s attention.
“Well, maybe I don’t want to.” Something uncomfortable twisted in the pit of my stomach. My hands twisted inside my pockets. “Maybe I should go,” I said, pointing over my shoulder.
“Can someone give her a copy, please?” John said, a pained smile on his lips as he shook his head.
A dozen books were held out to me at once.
I made a huffing sound and grabbed the copy I had flipped through earlier.
“Wait,” John said, standing up. His hand was outstretched, palm facing me. “Before you do, please know that I…expect nothing. You can do with it what you please. But, I need you to read it.”
“O...kay.” I breathed, a little surprised, because all the oxygen seemed to have left the room, leaving only John, me, and this damn book.
My insides tingled as if a colony of ants had decided to nest beneath my skin. I didn’t know what to expect. An apology, maybe?
I stared at the page.
It read:
For Nora
Two Truths and A Lie:
You shook me and split me open, and then this book fell out. Thank you.
Meg Ryan movies suck.
I have never not loved you.
The room was silent, void of all sound. All I could hear was the roaring white noise that filled every cell of me. Each word dropped like a stone, anchoring itself like the cornerstone of a completely different picture.
My eyes darted between the last sentence and the first.
I have never not loved you.
For Nora.
Wondering if he’d made a mistake—written my name instead of someone else’s. I swallowed hard, but the words stayed unchanged.
I looked up at him, suddenly breathless, like I’d just run up a flight of stairs. And then I remembered that I wasn’t alone. Hundreds of people were watching me. Waiting for a reaction.
“You know these things are kinda permanent, right?”
A wave of released breaths and shallow laughs flitted through the room.
One side of John’s face slipped into a careful smile.
“I sure hope so,” he said, still standing.
Words blurred as tears pricked at my eyes. I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold them back. I looked over my shoulder—there, the door was wide open. Pyramid head stood between me and the crowd that had just seen my broken heart splattered on a page.
“I should let the next person ask the questions,” I said, turning abruptly, nearly toppling the microphone.
Some people stood to get a better view as I fled the scene of the love crime.
