Page 24 of Based on You

"We can match on Monday. What are you planning on wearing?"

"Something black."

I nodded, narrowing my eyes. "Should we plan to match, or just complement?"

He smirked, a devastating expression. "Surprise me."

Heat moved through me in one clean line. I nodded stiff and forced my gaze to the nearest shelf, staring at titles without seeing any of them.

We stood there in silence a moment. He shoved his hands into his pockets. I was still clutching the random romance paperback like a shield.

"Have you found anything yet?" he asked quietly. "On the search."

"Nothing much yet." The lie came smooth. "A few directions that might lead somewhere. I'm still working through the comment threads." I paused, daring to push. "Why is this so important to you? Not the corporate reason. The other one."

He went quiet a long moment. His eyes drifted to the wooden shelf, lingering there before snapping back to mine.

"My niece," he said. "She really loves Ashby's work. Losing her parents was… a lot. It's been a lot for her to carry. These books are the only thing that reached her when nothing else worked." He paused, something raw leaking into his voice. "I just want to do something. I want to give her one good thing."

I stood still, the paperback heavy in my hands.

The guilt settled deep in my stomach, the same as the first time he'd handed me this in his office. Olivia was twenty feet away in the next aisle, talking to my best friend about vintage jacket provenance with her whole chest. And here I was, standing across from her grieving uncle, pretending to run a corporate manhunt for myself while he trusted me to find the answer to his family's pain.

"I'll do my best." My voice came thick. "I really mean that."

He nodded, the tense line of his shoulders dropping a fraction. "Thank you, Violet."

We stood there another moment, the silence between us easy.

Sloane and Olivia came back around the corner. Olivia now had two thick hardcovers tucked under her arm, and they were still deep in animated talk.

Simon looked at the two of them, then back at me. "We were just going to grab some lunch. Would you two want to join us?"

I opened my mouth to decline at once.

"Yes," Sloane answered for me.

EIGHT

SIMON

The four of us walked down the street to the restaurant.

It was a tiny place wedged at the end of the block, the kind that looked as though it had been running so long it had stopped trying to look like anything special. There wasn't even a legible sign above the door I could read from the pavement.

Sloane led us inside without checking whether anyone objected to the choice. We settled around a battered wooden table by the front window. The chairs were all a little mismatched, and the menu was printed on a single laminated card. Violet sat across from me. Sloane sat next to Olivia.

I hadn't planned this. I'd been at the bookstore with Olivia because I'd spent eight months trying to build a Saturday routine with her, and a bookstore was one of the few public places she'd still agree to visit without being asked twice. We'd been standing inside it less than ten minutes ago. Now we were at a restaurant, Sloane was interrogating the server about the daily specials, and Olivia was already leaning forward in her chair, drawn in.

The last good meal I could remember sharing with anyone was before last year. I let out a quiet breath and picked up my menu.

Olivia and Sloane were deep in conversation before the server had finished writing down our orders. I sat back and watched my grieving niece answer questions without a hitch. She was animated, at ease in a room full of strangers on a regular Saturday afternoon. I'd been killing myself trying to pull her to that point for eight months. Sloane had managed it in four minutes.

I thought about Elena. There was a hard irony in it, that an online author she'd never met was the only reason her daughter was sitting upright at a restaurant table on a Saturday, leaning forward and asking questions. My sister would've had something pointed to say about that, the kind of witty, sharp remark I'd have argued with and then chewed on for days.

I shifted my gaze across the table to Violet.

She was watching Olivia and Sloane too. At one point she made a small, self-deprecating joke about being marched blindly into restaurants without being consulted. The whole table laughed. Then she dropped her gaze back to her laminated menu.