We climb into the back seat and set off through the city. The streets are buzzing with people enjoying the sun beating down onto the normally wet pavement. Sunshine in Scotland is a thing to be cherished, as even in the middle of summer, it can rain torrentially. Celia chats away as we drive, about the signing, how many fans we are expecting, and how long it will take.
“You’re booked to sign for two hours. Then we’ll have a short break, and the Q&A session will start. Invite-only for the Q&A, but there’s no limit on the signing.”
Reads Bookstore sits up a small cobbled lane. I congratulate myself on my choice of footwear on exiting the car as a rogue cobble causes Celia to trip. Navigating the narrow lane was tricky for our driver, but he completed his task professionally. We were delivered to the front door in one piece.
A long row of women stands against the wall. The queue extends around the corner out of sight. Their faces blur into a seaof blue eyes and smiles, each one waving a perfectly manicured hand.
“Katie!” a woman shouts. “We love your stories. You’re the Queen of Erotica.”
I give her a small wave and smile. She does the same back enthusiastically.
“I’ll see you all inside,” I say loudly, then walk into the store, hoping with each step that I maintain my aura of calm.
Walking through the door of the bookstore feels like I step back in time. Rows of old wooden bookcases line the walls and spread across the center of the massive church-like space. Looking up, there’s a mezzanine level to the back of the shop, which has even more bookcases. There must be thousands of books on these shelves. One breath of the air and I feel at home, surrounded by literature and fantasy.
A desk is set up at the front. It has a display of my books and a big leather chair behind it, which I assume is for me. Banners on either side advertise me and my writing. The whole experience is still bizarre, but becoming more normal with each event. I take my seat, and the first woman walks through the door. After chatting to her briefly, I sign her copy of the novel. She then heads off into the realms of the bookcases, no doubt to spend more of her hard-earned cash.
Two hours later, Celia calls time on the signings. I’m exhausted. She hands me a huge mug of coffee and rubs my shoulder.
“Hand cramp?” she asks, and I nod.
“Who knew signing books could be so hardcore?” I joke, then flex my arm muscles in jest.
“Not long now, Katie.” She smiles. “We have thirty minutes, then the Q&A session starts. That has a time limit of twenty minutes. We have an appointment with the wine bar down the street after.”
“Sounds good to me.” A glass of wine would be orgasmic right now.
“Oh, and Brad called for you. I told him you were busy and would call him during the break.”
Taking my phone from my bag, I find I’ve missed five calls and three text messages, all from him. Unease washes over me as another similarity to Knobscratcher becomes apparent. He needs to know where I am all the time. If I don’t answer, he calls again. And again. Until I respond.
I’m only just getting my freedom. Another man won’t take that from me, no matter how gorgeous, rich, or amazing in bed he is. Or so I tell myself as I balance this relationship, my growing career, and the connections between the two.
I send him a quick message to say I’m in the middle of a signing, and I will call him later, then I switch my phone off. If I don’t look, I can pretend it’s not there. Well, at least until I turn it on again.
***
The Q&A session comes to an end uneventfully. The attendees were a mixture of journalists and carefully vetted fans who are active on social media. Celia is happy with my performance overall; she says I’m improving in public. In the beginning, she had to hold my hand through every stage and practically answer the questions for me.
As I stand to leave, a familiar set of dark eyes land on mine. My stomach free falls; my heart explodes in one swift beat. Then my mouth goes dry, the way it has for one person in the past. As soon as I look at him, I’m flooded with emotion. I will my soles to the floor, not trusting myself not to run into his arms.
“Hello, Katie,” Lance murmurs.
Oh, I’ve missed that voice.
“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by to say hello.” He flashes me a soft, sexy smile, then leans forward, warm lips pressing my cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
Before I can speak, Celia appears at my side. Her eyes like saucers, taking in the man next to me. He’s still as gorgeous as I remember: strong, broad, and all man. It’s hard to believe that he used to choose to wrap his hot, young body around mine. The sex I had with Lance was the best of my life. An orgasm with him didn’t just happen in my body; it fried my brain.
“Who are you?” Celia squawks. “Do you have a ticket?”
It’s then I notice the pram by his side, cradling a baby boy wrapped in blankets, sleeping soundly. I look from the pram to Lance and back again. He gives me a sad smile.
“We have a lot to catch up on, Katie,” he says, simple but laden.
“Celia, this is my old friend, Lance. Are we finished for this afternoon?”
“Yes.” Her eyes search my face, her tone clipped. “No plans until the morning. Another bookstore in Glasgow, then we head to London.”