“It’s no bother.” I go to stand next to him, and he tells me that he’s in town to visit a friend of his, River Tate, a Python player who told him about the store. I reply that I saw River play once, at the preseason game.
Carl smiles and gives me his life story, about how he lives in Ellijay, Georgia, and knew River when he was in college. Then he describes a museum in Ellijay dedicated to UFOs. Apparently, the locals claim that part of Georgia is a hotspot for extraterrestrial activity.
“I was abducted once, you see, and I thought I could find some books about true-life stories of people who’ve experienced the same thing.”
I nod sagely, keeping my expression blank. “I have just the thing. We have an entire section and even a brand-new book of interviews from whistleblowers who once worked for the government and have come forward with stories. I flipped through it when it came in, and it was fascinating. Follow me.”
I escort him to the display we have on the second floor. He’s chatting to me about aliens with big eyes, and I nod in all the right places. He’s just wrapping up a long-winded story about how he hopes they come back and take him to their planet when the PA system goes off.
I start at Graham’s voice. “Emmy, you have a cream situation in the rotunda. Please meet me there. It’s me. I’m the cream. I’m waiting for you.”
My breath catches.
I tell Carl to excuse me and head down the staircase. Butterflies dance in my stomach when I see him standing in the rotunda next to the manual typewriter.
Jane and Andrew are at the counter, all wide eyes and smirking, while Babs has literally taken a seat at one of the tables with Brody to watch me. I start when I notice Vale at the counter, a couple of books in his hands. He smiles at me, a knowing expression on his face as he looks from me to Graham.
I lick dry lips. Graham looks gorgeous, his dark hair swept off his chiseled face, his gray gaze watching every step I take.
“Hey,” he murmurs when I reach him, his greedy eyes eating me up.
“Hey,” I reply shakily. “Um, good to see you.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Have I given you enough space?” he says with an earnestness I can’t deny. “I know things are happening fast—your surgery, my retirement. I wanted to give you time to think. I can’t stop thinking of you, though. I want to be the one who takes care of you, Emmy. I want to protect you, from whatever comes, whether it’s an old boyfriend who won’t leave you alone or a health issue.”
“Oh,” I say, letting the words settle inside me. I bite my lower lip to keep the tears pricking my eyelids from falling. “I’ve missed you.”
His warm hand cups my cheek. “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you. I want to show you something. Look.” He points down at the manual typewriter, and I scan the various messages people have left. He picks up the three-ringed binder where we keep older messages from the beginning of the year. He flips back several pages to one dated in late June. “This is the day I came to the store after our honeymoon. I’d been gone for seventeen days, and I missed you for every one of them.” He reads the message aloud. “‘I am obsessed with you, Emmy. From the moment you stepped out on that balcony. From the moment you called me your prison boyfriend. From the moment I dreamed of you on the football field. You are mine. You are my saving grace, my reward, my happiness, my darling.’”
“You wrote that?”
He nods, a gleam in his eyes as he caresses my cheek tenderly. “I couldn’t tell you that day, but I left you at the beach because I was terrified none of it was real, that I’d end up hurt and betrayed or alone with nothing, just like I did with Divina, but you’re not her; you’d never be her. You’re good. You’re kind. And you’re mine. When I married you, I meant it. I kept telling myself we were temporary, but inside of me, my heart knew the truth; I just had to let everything fall apart before I realized that I can’t be without you in my life. I’m not a smart man when it comes to feelings. I’ve never had a good romantic relationship. I’ve got massive flaws. I’ve never learned how to compromise, to resolve conflict, to express myself, but I love you, Emmy.”
Happiness swells in my chest, and a tear falls as he gently wipes it away. “I love you too.”
He smiles softly. “As soon as I saw you in that hospital bed, everything clicked together. I knew I never wanted you on the other side of that, wondering if I was going to be okay, or healthy. I’m sorry I’m an idiot and couldn’t communicate how I felt.”