Page 55 of One Last Thing Before You Go

But he’s left me standing corrected at every corner. Yes, he’s young and lives the life of a young man with no ties to anything, but at no point has he ever made me feel like I’m alone in this project, that I have to carry this renovation and sale solely on my shoulders. He’s been an incredible partner and new friend, who’s always there for me. A man who notices if I haven’t eaten, who asks what I did the night before and actually cares about the answer. A man who pays attention to the small and simple things about my life which feel… big. I am fully aware it’s because he has a crush on me, but it still feels nice. Especially since I have a crush on him, too.

And I know this all sounds so ridiculous. I know that if a friend came to me with this situation, I’d go off on her and tell her to just seize the day, to at least date him while he’s here— the whole “It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved” of it all. But that’s exactly what I’m scared of. It’s taken me years to recover from the fallout that was the explosion of my old life. I barely feel recovered now. So of course I’ve turned into this total cliché, terrified of getting hurt again, wanting to put up boundaries between us that would rival the Great Wall of China.

Sigh.

I just wish I didn’t care about him. It would make this whole thing so much easier.

“What comes next?” Bonnie asks, before taking a sip from her own drink (a Shirley Temple, because she’s DD).

“The actual remodeling. Making the whole space a little more generic to appeal to different type of businesses. Then paint and stuff. After that, we list it and pray to the gods we find a buyer quickly.” I feel an unexpected pang in my stomach at my own words, the idea of someone else taking over that space suddenly unsavory. That’s the bookstore. It has always been the town’s bookstore.

But I shake off the feeling because why the hell should I care? My main goal is to get the hell out of Ceres Cove ASAP. When I’m back in New York, I won’t even notice it will be gone.

“Whoa. Can you guys afford all that work?” Bonnie asks before taking a sip of her own drink.

“No,” Jenn and I both reply at the same time with a laugh.

“We’ll be doing the painting ourselves, so that should save us some money. Plus, Knox is going to take the pictures of the place for the actual listing, so we won’t have to pay a photographer there.”

“That’s great to hear,” she says, in earnest. “Sad that I’ll need to either start ordering books online or drive an hour and a half to the closest bookstore, though.”

“I can still order your book club’s books for now. Plus, every cent that comes in helps.”

Adri’s face falls as she slouches a little in her seat. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” She waves her hand in the air as if dismissing me. “We’re not doing book club anymore.”

All three of us whip to face my sister, practically slack-jawed. “Excuse me?” Bonnie breaks the silence.

“We’re done with it,” Adri shrugs, her gaze on her drink, steadily avoiding eye-contact.

“How—? What—? When—?” Jenn stutters. For all her apathy, even she knows how important the bookclub is to the town. Though it’s saucy name is new, it’s been around for decades. Touching My Shelf is the town’s most exclusive (and only) club.

“What? What happened to the book club? Isn’t Touching My Shelf like, I don’t know, harder to get into than Studio 54 in the seventies?”

“Studio what?” Jenn asks, making me shiver.

“Seriously, Jenn?”

“Nice reference, Bonnie. Are you secretly sixty-five?” Adri rolls her eyes.

But my sister-in-law ignores her, pressing for more answers. “Seriously, what happened? That book club was so important to the town, and not to mention what it did for you when⁠—”

I kick her under the table, trying not to bring up how that it basically helped save my sister’s life through the darkest point of her depression. It’s what got her out of bed during a very low low.

“I—” Bonnie coughs. “I mean, I thought you were really into it.”

But the book club shutting down isn’t upsetting just because of what it could mean for my sister. It’s also huge for our small community. You wouldn’t believe it, but it has become the lifeline for so many of the women in this town over the years. For some, Touching My Shelf is the only place they feel safe enough to blow off some steam and get some space from the people they see every day—a necessity in Ceres Cove.

“Of course I was into it,” Adri sighs. “But you know Melanie? Melanie Miller? Well, she met this rando online on some Discord channel for train model collector’s and fell in love. Now she’s moving down to Florida, which means we can’t keep the club going. Out of all of us, she was the only one who could host the meetings. So we have to shut down since we have nowhere else to go.”

“What?” I scoff. “How is that possible? None of you can host?”

“Well, there’s no way I can host,” she snorts. “We live in a two-bedroom with three boys and a husband who watches sports on loud from the very second he gets home, in case you’ve forgotten. There would be absolutely no peace and quiet. And honestly, one way or another, it’s kind of the same situation for all of us. Touching My Shelf isn’t just about reading books and discussing them. It’s—was—our girl bonding time. And now it feels like we lost the safe place to do so.”

“Are you telling me Melanie was the only reason this club could keep going?” Jenn asks.

“Kind of. She’s divorced and has no kids. The only other one that could work is Casey’s house, but she has three cats and two of the girls are super allergic to them.”

“I find it really difficult to believe that eight women can’t find a safe space to talk about books and blow off some steam. Like, can’t you ask your husband to take the kids for like three hours or something? Or find anywhere else to do it that isn’t one of your homes?” Bonnie asks.