Page 113 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“Yeah.”

We fall into an awkward silence—a painful one.

“Well, can I—ah—get you something?” His tone is unexpectedly nice, calm. Very our past interactions. Instead of downright antagonism, he’s welcoming. The smile on his face is almost kind.

It’s disorienting, is what it is.

“Sure,” I almost stutter. “IPA would be nice.”

He shoots me a genuine smile and a “no problem” before coming back with a frosty bottle. He places it gingerly in front of me, leaning on his forearms to get a better look at me.

“You look… good, man.”

I choke on a sip. “Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“Are you staying long?”

“No. Like I said, was just visiting my dad’s grave on my way back home. Or I guess to my mom’s. I’ve been traveling for the past six months.”

He nods seriously. “That’s a long time.”

“Yeah. Just having a beer before I hit the road.”

“You probably shouldn’t drink and drive, then.”

Duh. I shrug. “It’s just one beer. And I’ll eat something before I go.”

“Right.” He looks away for a beat before turning back with a face-splitting grin. “You know. Today’s the grand opening of the new bookstore in town. Where your dad’s place used to be.”

“Oh, yeah?” I swallow, my heart jumping in my chest.

“You should check it out. From what I heard, they have a really cool cafe in there, too. The new owner bought the space beside it and really opened up the place. Now you can sit there, order coffee and a muffin and read all afternoon. And some nights, they open the wine bar and serve tapas or whatever.”

“That actually sounds… kind of incredible. Definitely different from anything this town has seen, right? It sounds like something Lo—” I grimace, catching my slip just in time. “Lots of people would enjoy. You know, since there isn’t anything really that chill.”

“Yeah, they reinstated book club, too. Which, as you know, was a pretty big deal here.”

I nod, wanting off the subject. Too close to Lottie. And any topic close to Lottie starts picking at those stitches. What a visual.

“Right.”

He gives me a look, as if waiting for me to come to this magical realization. “How about I give you the flyer? You can go once you’re done with this beer.” From behind the bar, he pulls out a pink sheet of paper, an illustration of the new storefront under the words GRAND OPENING SATURDAY with the times below.

“Uh, sure. I guess I could check it out.”

“Good. Good, yes.” And it’s that odd look in his eyes plus the unsettling feeling that this man who has historically been so antagonistic towards me but was so welcoming now that leads me to walk the five minutes it takes to the new bookstore in town: Strike a Prose.

I snort at the name, bringing an unexpected smile to my face. “Strike a Prose,” I repeat under my breath. “Classic.”

Without another thought, I push the door to the bookstore open. As soon as I do, I freeze. Because whoever bought this bookstore has turned this place into definitely more than just that. The space has been divided into three clear sections. On the left, the actual bookstore part of the space filled with several bays of books each one containing a wide variety to suit everyone’s needs, apparently. On the right, a cafe where I can currently see people lining up, eyeing brownies and other baked goods behind the display case. In the middle, a bar at the far end of the room with a set of couches surrounding a coffee table, where many people are currently enjoying a book. And wherever there seemed to be enough space on the wall, large prints of photographs of the town and of its people.

My photographs.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

LOTTIE

Ilove Ceres Cove.