“Where are we going?” I asked.
“We're almost there,” he responded, throwing me a mischievous grin. “I promise you'll like it.”
He led me a little further down the hall until he paused at a set of wooden French doors. He slowly opened them and stood aside, gesturing for me to enter first.
Squinting, I could just barely make out the floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined the dark room. Only moonlight illuminated the space, filtering through a large bay window at the far end.
“What is this?” I asked as Eli walked around me. I heard a click and the room lit up under the soft glow of the lamp Eli had just switched on.
“Wow,” I breathed, as I took in the hundreds of books that surrounded me.
“It's a library,” he replied, looking at me expectantly.
I momentarily forgot about where I was, and why I was there. I walked along the shelves, tracing each spine as I went.The lodge had it all—literary classics, modern thrillers, and everything in between. I pulled out a particularly ornate copy ofThrough the Looking Glassand flipped it over, admiring it.
“How did you know this was here?” I asked.
“I did some wandering last night when you didn’t show up.”
I flinched as guilt trickled into my veins.
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, giving me a pointed look.
I resumed scanning the shelves. “I wish I had known this was here earlier. I could have stolen a book or two for all the sleepless nights.”
Eli flopped into the dark green leather loveseat situated in the middle of the room. “I, for one, am glad you don’t have any distractions. Otherwise, you probably wouldn’t bother giving me the time of day.”
“That’s not true,” I replied quickly.
Eli chuckled. “It’s not?”
I paused, thinking about all the countless nights I’d spent holed up in my apartment, reading—both during and after Michael. “Well, maybe it’s a little true.”
“Who’s your favorite?” Eli asked as I pulled out another book to examine the back.
“Author? That’s an impossible question.”
“Fine, just give me one of your favorites.”
“Jane Austen,” I said without thinking. “I know it’s a cliché answer, but I still remember reading her work for the first time in high school. I’d always loved reading, but I was embarrassed that I primarily read romance novels. Most of the other classics never made me feel anything. I knew I was supposed to have all these important takeaways and thoughts about these great novels—but at the end of the day, I just didn’t care about the characters.” I smiled at the memory.
“But then we had to readEmma, and I felt something totally different. Finally, I cared about what happened to these characters and I wanted to know more about their lives. I loved that no one questioned Austen’s legitimacy as one of the greats, even though she wrote about the trials and tribulations of relationships, you know? It gave me the confidence to start writing my own stories.”
Eli grinned. “I love Austen.Pride and Prejudiceis one of my favorite books.”
“Really?” The surprise in my voice betrayed me.
“As someone who had the whole toxic masculinity thing forced down my throat by my action star father, I found her to be refreshing,” he admitted. “I’m with you. Relationships are what truly capture the beauty of human interest. That’s what I’ve always wanted to focus on.”
“Is that what your screenplay is about?” I asked.
“It’s about a guy who spent his whole life building up his career, because that’s what he’d always been told would make him successful. But then one day he wakes up and realizes just how alone he actually is. Then he starts this mission to find happiness in things other than work, despite being a bit socially repressed.” He eyed me, looking self-conscious. “I know it sounds like a basic story, but I really think?—”
“I think it sounds beautiful,” I interrupted.
Eli grinned and my chest tightened in response. “Come here,” he said, patting the seat next to him. I joined him and he easily slung an arm around the back of the sofa. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. Without thinking, I snuggled into his side.
