This Book Made Me Think of You(23)
“Come on, I think we need another go.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. But I’m not doing it on my own this time.”
* * *
—
When Tilly takes to the stage again, it’s with Harper at her side. As the intro to their song plays, they spot a group of women in their fifties in matching sarongs leaping up from their table.
“We’re family too!” they shout as the opening riff of Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family” begins to play, and Tilly and Harper sing along loudly, grinning at each other.
“Then come up here!” calls Harper, beckoning the women to join them on the stage. There’s hardly space for them all, but they jostle and dance together, singing their lungs out. Up there beneath the glowing lanterns and glittering disco ball, Tilly thinks back to the tears she shed on the beach. Crying like that had emptied her out completely. But maybe she needed to feel empty so that this moment could fill her right back up again.
Fourteen
The resort’s library is a cool, round room with curved bookcases and doors that open onto decking that leads down to the beach. The floor is lined with straw rugs, and there are a number of comfortable-looking chairs and beanbags.
Tilly has the room to herself. Harper was still snoring, glitter smeared over her cheek and pillow, when Tilly snuck out of the hotel room. Perhaps it was from the emotion of the night before or maybe it’s just the hangover, but she woke starving and made her way through as much of the breakfast menu as she could manage. A bright purple smoothie, Balinese banana pancakes made with cinnamon and coconut and drizzled in a gooey brown sugar sauce and lashings of coconut, and, to finish, a bowl of juicy pomelo, sweet, creamy papaya, and mangosteen, which stained her fingertips with its red juice.
In the library she settles on a low white armchair facing the ocean and opens Beach Read on her lap. She read a few pages on the plane but hasn’t managed much more. If she’s honest with herself, she hasn’t really given it much of a chance, still hung up on the irony of Joe giving her a book that promises a happy ending. But she opens the pages of the book, determined to be more open-minded this time.
“Let’s give this another go…”
* * *
—
Several hours later she is jolted from the book by the sound of her sister’s voice.
“God, I had about three too many coconut daiquiris last night,” Harper groans as she sinks down onto a beanbag beside her, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Tilly looks up from her book, realizing that she is almost halfway through.
“I know it’s Bali and it’s beautiful and everything, but does the sun have to be quite so bright?” continues Harper, shading her eyes with her hand. “My brain is melting.”
Harper closes her eyes and remains still for a moment, so Tilly turns back to her book.
“Good book?” Harper asks, the beanbag rustling as she turns onto her side and gestures at Tilly’s lap. The question is answered for Tilly by the pang of irritation she feels. Couldn’t Harper remain prone and silent for just a bit longer so Tilly can finish her chapter?
She forces herself to stop reading, keeping her place marked with her finger.
“Great, actually. I laughed so hard I snorted earlier. You know the characters are going to end up together from the beginning, and yet somehow I still can’t stop reading to find out what happens…”
“That’s the joy of a romance,” Harper replies, stretching her legs out in front of her. “It’s relaxing. I’ve got the latest Sarah J. Maas in my suitcase. It’s the size of a brick. I hope at least half of it is spice.”
“By ‘spice’ you mean…”
“Sex, Tilly. Sex with faeries and monsters.”
“And you find that relaxing?”
Harper shrugs.
“It’s nice to switch off from the real world sometimes, you know? Sorry, of course you do…”
Tilly holds the book tightly on her lap. Getting back into reading feels like stepping inside the house of a beloved friend she hasn’t seen for a long time. It feels like coming home. And it also reminds her of why she wanted to work in publishing. Because she loves books. She wanted to discover new authors who would someday become someone’s favorite author. To put stories out there that would help people switch off or understand themselves more clearly through meeting a character just like them.
Maybe Harper is right; she has forgotten how to dream.
“Right then, pool?” says Harper, her hangover seemingly lifting as she leaps up, grinning. “And I’ve booked us a surfing lesson for later. No arguments, you’re coming with me.”
Surfing might usually be more Harper’s thing than Tilly’s, but the idea of focusing on something other than her own problems suddenly sounds very appealing. She doubts that she’ll be able to contemplate her career and what she’s doing with her life if she’s upside down in the water, having undoubtedly just fallen off the board.
“Surfing sounds great.”
* * *
—
There is a small gift shop next to the library, and as they leave, Tilly grabs hold of Harper’s arm.