And I know what you’re thinking, but Nathan Thorn was born here. He’s a local, so he doesn’t count.
Famous people might visit.
They might even stay the summer.
They inspire a little gossip. Then they leave.
David will leave too. Because he was always meant to.
And the fact that it breaks my heart a little?
Well, that’ll be my little secret.
Just keep moving, Larry. It’ll be okay.
I unlock The Book Shop, breathing in that familiar scent of paper and possibility. This place grounds me. Always has.
My employee, Maribel Johnson, arrives just as I’m flipping the sign to Open.
“Morning, Larry,” she calls, balancing her purse and a thermos like the queen she is.
“Morning, Ms. Johnson,” I grin. “I brought Bosco’s.”
Her eyes light up. “You spoil me.”
“I value your continued employment.”
She laughs, and just like that, the weird watching feeling eases a little.
Maribel takes the front while I head to the back office to tackle inventory. She’s a retired schoolteacher, sharp as a tack, and can handle customers better than I ever could.
We make a good team.
Soon we’re sharing her special blend coffee and splitting almond cookies from Bosco’s.
It’s warm. Comforting. Familiar.
Normal.
The icky edge in my stomach starts to fade.
Until the door chimes.
I glance up automatically.
And my entire mood drops ten degrees.
Eric.
Ugh.
“What now?” I mutter under my breath.
He’s dressed like he’s headed to a networking lunch—pressed shirt, shiny shoes, hair gelled into submission.
The same square jaw, the same slightly condescending smile I used to think was charming.
“Hey, Larry,” he starts, walking in like he owns the place. “I think something might be wrong with your phone. I’ve been texting you.”