Page 123

“Oh, really?” she asked, playing with the ends of his hair.

“I know I’ve been busy with midterms, but I was thinking about how I was going to make it up to you later tonight.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” she said with a smile. “Keep thinking. And make it good.”

“Isn’t it always good?” he asked, and her cheeks flushed pink. He laughed. “Did you take a break from the shop?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “I missed you. I thought I’d surprise you with a little visit, and anyway, Arushi and Benedict can handle the bookstore in my absence.” They were the new booksellers Charles had hired at Crawley Books before retiring permanently.

“I hope you aren’t as tyrannical with them as you were with me,” he said, squeezing her waist. A fond expression came over her face, and he snorted. “Don’t look so pleased by the memories of torturing me.”

“Oh come on,” she said. “You liked it.”

Grayson couldn’t argue with that, and Lucy knew it. She grabbed his tie, pulling him in for a kiss, and he smiled against her mouth.

Hands on her waist, he lifted her onto the table with ease, and she tugged him closer. He stepped between her legs, deepening the kiss as she leaned back, pulling him along with her.

Bliss came over him, until they were interrupted by her phone buzzing. She broke away, reaching for it.

“Just a text from my mom,” Lucy said, smiling at the message. She sat up, and he pulled back, though he kept his hands on her waist, absentmindedly tracing designs on her skin over her blouse.

“How’s she doing?” Grayson asked. “And your dad?”

“My dad is still raving about the steak you made on Saturday night,” Lucy said, doing something on her phone. “Look.” She showed him a message from her dad, which included a photograph of an empty lunch container. The message read: Devoured the leftovers at unprecedented speed. My coworkers were concerned.

Grayson snorted. “Glad to know my culinary skills have impressed your father.”

Lucy waved a hand. “Please, they’ve been impressed with you since they met you three months ago,” she said, focusing on her phone to respond to her mom.

“She’s been reading the new book I recommended and sending me updates,” Lucy told him. She smiled, showing him a new message: This is my new favorite book. Bookseller of the year award goes to you, my darling daughter!

Lucy beamed, and he smiled, pleased to see the happy expression on her face. Her relationship with her parents was doing much better, and a few months ago, she had used her book-magic on Iffat.

Since then, Iffat had discovered a deep love for crime fiction novels. She had been able to see what wonderful use Lucy put her magic to, and both she and Andrew only grew more and more proud of her.

“You deserve a bookseller-of-the-entire-century award,” Grayson affirmed, and she hopped off the table, going to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Agreed. But how about coffee for now?” she asked.

“Sure.” He grabbed his things, and together, they left the lecture hall, heading outside to walk to the café on campus. It was midday, and the sun was shining bright, illuminating the trees. Leaves glowed in colorful hues of red and orange and yellow, and the air was crisp and slightly chilly.

Lucy hugged his arm, and they chatted about the rest of their plans for the week: They were having Charles over to their apartment on Friday, then going out for brunch with Alba and Mateo on Sunday.

“You better not be grading papers on Saturday,” Lucy warned. “I want you all to myself.”

“I’m already all yours,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But yes, I will forsake grading to be at your disposal.”

“Good.” They made it to the café, and he held open the door. She skipped inside, bouncing with happiness as she inhaled the strong scent of coffee. They ordered, and Grayson paused.

“Are you sure you want an iced coffee?” he asked, frowning. “It’s getting cold out.”

“I’m sure,” she said, a coy glint in her eyes.

With a shrug, he paid, and once the drinks were ready, they headed out, walking by the fountain.

“Grayson,” Lucy asked, “do you know what today is?”

He furrowed his brows, thinking. “No, what?” he asked. It wasn’t their monthly anniversary, or her birthday, or any other day he should have remembered.