Page 34 of Library or Lattes?

“Why do you keep repeating things I say?”

“Because I want to make sure that you actually mean the confusing things that are coming out of your mouth. But yes. My mother is from London. I go twice a year.” He flipped through his book and sighed.

“That was all you needed to say. Yes, Willa, I usually go twice a year, so I know it pretty well.” I put on a voice.

“Was that supposed to sound like me?” Theo looked at me, amused.

“It did sound like you. Like an ass.”

“Okay, fine,” Theo said. “My parents are in London right now, if you must know.” He paused. “They’re there because my gran isn’t well. I was very close to her when I was little, and I wanted to go with them, but they decided it would be too much like hard work to bring me too. So they dumped me with my stupid brother, his annoying wife, and their even more annoying children.” He exhaled, like he’d been dying to get that off his chest.

I was taken aback by his sudden honesty. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry your gran is sick.”

“Thanks. I mean, that isn’t the whole reason they didn’t want me there. My mom and dad are getting divorced, so there’s that too.”

“Oh” was all I could manage. If he’d been someone less annoying, or let’s be honest, anyone else, I would have tried much harder to be supportive. What he was going through sucked, but my sympathy was buried pretty deep.

“It’s fine. I mean, obviously it would be nicer for everyone if they got along better and wanted to make it work. But we don’t live in an ideal world, so …” He shrugged. “But yeah, Gran. She was the reason I loved London so much. Like she made it magical or something. Maybe it was because we’d go over for Christmas, and everything was ‘posh’ and ‘pudding’ and ‘Alfie, please don’t annoy your superior brother’…”

I found myself laughing at the accent he’d put on. “Sounds like you have a nice family,” I said, imagining a version of Theo sitting at a dinner table at Christmas, actually happy. Then the absurd image disappeared.

“I don’t. Only my gran. The rest of them have sent me to small-town hell. And that is unforgivable.”

“It’s not that bad,” I retorted. “You’re not even trying.”

“Well, I haven’t been proven wrong yet.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Just wait until you get to Harvest Festival,” I promised him. “It’s going to blow your mind.”

I didn’t even know if I meant this sarcastically. How could I explain the wholesomeness that was Harvest Festival without embarrassing myself? I’d always loved Harvest Festival, and Bonfire Night and every single one of our town celebrations, and now here I was, almost ashamed of them. All because of this one boy.

He smiled then. A real smile, not a smirk, and it was hard to stay angry at him. Especially when he looked like that.

“Maybe you could get a candy apple there and sweeten up a bit?” I suggested. “Just a thought.”

“Maybe you could make some of that pumpkin pie and trade it for some manual labor,” he teased back, but it hit a nerve when I thought of Pop.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to do things for people. Ever think of that?”

“I do things for people all the time,” he retorted, “because I want to, not because I expect sugar in return.”

“So you won’t be doing the pie-eating contest, then? Too bad. A mouth full of pie would mean you wouldn’t be able to talk for a while.”

“Alfie’s annoying kids were talking about that contest.” He shuddered. “It’s enough to make them sick.”

“No one’s forced to eat the pies—some people clearly enjoy it. But maybe you should suggest a carrot-eating contest if you’re that concerned about the health of Oak Falls residents,” I said defensively. Back to being an asshole so quickly. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

He just shook his head slowly, like he was mortified for me.

I went on. “Elsie and Cohen, Alfie’s kids, are super cute. Can you stop calling them annoying?” They were cute, with heads of dark curls and blue eyes. Eyes just like Theo’s, now that I thought about it. When I worked at the coffee shop, they’d come in every weekend to buy cupcakes with their mom.

“Elsie and Cohen,” Theo sighed. “You know they wake up at six every morning?”

“Lots of people do. People who have jobs, people who like the mornings, old people, children? But maybe I should send out the town messenger to ask everyone to stay in bed until eight because it’s disturbing our newest resident …”

I pretended to scroll on my phone, and then I noticed a string of messages and missed calls from Lennie. Oh God, the time!

I clicked on WhatsApp in a panic.