Page 60 of Booked for Theft

“If you go for historic pieces, I can get that approved easily. Fiction won’t be feasible; my branch will greedily steal all the fiction titles. However, I could see some of our historic titles headed your way if you’re opening an entire floor dedicated to global history.”

I grinned at the thought of making off with some of the main branch’s priceless treasures. “Is it a sure enough thing I can start making a wish list for how to fill the floor?”

“Start with the books you’ll want to pillage from your current stock and make certain you check the circulation numbers. We’ll play the historic preservation angle and make sure you can retain copies with insufficient circulation, as you’re creating a rather unique collection.” Beatrice made a thoughtful sound. “I don’t normally suggest overtime, but why don’t we get together at your place to go over it?”

“How about we all get together on Sunday at my place? We need to do some cell stuff.”

Sunday would give me sufficient time to discuss the issue with Bradley—and see what the politicians had in store for me this time.

“You wrangle Bradley, his parents, and your parents. I’ll get everyone else. What time do you want us over?”

“Noon. Be prepared to cry. We’re going to have Indian for lunch.”

The anxiety of going to lunch with a politician crept in on tiptoes and waited for an hour before our scheduled meeting time to strike in earnest. The entire car ride and meal before my kidnapping zipped through my head, and a chill swept through me.

In the span of a few minutes, my office became a cage.

Closing my eyes failed to help. If anything, it restored the vivid memories of isolation. I began with focusing on my breathing, doing so until some of the tension in my chest eased. Once my heart no longer raced and the burn in my lungs settled, I reminded myself of several important things.

The lunch date, such as it was, would begin a half a mile away at a fast food joint, as Representative Forsythe rarely got to indulge in greasy food. His wife wanted everything healthy, and she kept a sharp eye on him.

For some reason I didn’t understand, Representative Forsythe’s wife thought I would be a good influence.

Somehow, I hadn’t laughed at the man while indicating I would love to help him break his wife’s rules.

We could handle a short enough walk before returning to my office, with food in hand, to discuss his donation, fill out the paperwork, and tour the empty space just waiting for the right books to come along and take up residency. I had handled the drive to Maryland and back—and the journey to Washington D.C.—without incident.

I could handle a short walk.

I had no reason for fear.

But anxiety was not a sensible demon. I understood this, and I understood that the episode would lead to a round of therapy to cope with the trauma of my kidnapping. To remind myself of the benefits of my disappearance, I spent a few minutes staring at my foot.

As warned, it hurt when the weather changed, but it was a passing pain, a dull ache compared to the throbbing agony I’d once endured. In time, I might forget enough about my suffering to be bothered by the remnant consequences of the crash.

But then again, in time, I might not carry many reminders of the time I had put Bradley’s life ahead of my own. I would never regret my choice, however.

A world without him wasn’t a world I wanted to live in, although moving forward, I would be working to make sure we both survived. If I could choose us, I would.

Once I calmed enough I thought I could handle talking without sounding like a mess, I grabbed my phone and began the tedious process of notifying Bradley I suffered from anxiety and needed a reminder I walked the stretch of road where I’d meet a politician often and could handle the task without needing to suffer from a meltdown.

As expected, my phone rang a few moments later.

“Do you need me to walk with you?” Bradley asked before I had a chance to say a word.

“You just want a cheeseburger,” I accused.

“I mean, I am not saying no to a cheeseburger with extra cheese. I’m sure the politician you’re going to be cajoling money out of isn’t going to mind me, your most handsome fiancé, walking you around. If any reporters catch us, it just helps our cause. People like trying to prove couples aren’t legitimate nowadays.”

“Ridiculous,” I muttered.

“While I agree with you, it is what it is. I’ll be at the library within fifteen minutes. That will give us enough time to walk to the restaurant, right?”

“Yes, it will.”

“Sit tight, and if your anxiety gets worse, just go find Mickey. If he can handle your best bitch at her worst, I’m sure he is qualified to deal with you.”

I managed a laugh over his commentary. “Thanks, Bradley.”