Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

ELIZABETH

The soft chime of the bell above the door echoes through the bookshelves as the last few women head home for the night. Taking in the sight of the scattered books and mugs left behind on the small tables brings a smile on my face. I sigh contentedly and start tidying the mess.

The monthly book club I host at my bookstore, Stacks, has become increasingly popular with the women–and a few men–of Blackwood. The store almost isn’t big enough for book club nights anymore, but seeing the aftermath of a group of people sharing their love of books never fails to make me happy.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know I’m standing here waiting for you to spill the tea.”

Sighing, I turn to Presley, who’s leaning against the front counter with an amused grin on her face. I collect a stack of mismatched bookmarks from one of the tables and match her grin with one of my own.

“Sorry. Fresh out of tea,” I tease, gesturing to the empty mugs.

“Come on, Liz. It’s been a month since you signed up on that app and you’ve been tight-lipped every time I’ve seen you. Any luck?”

Ugh. The app. The dating app I begrudgingly joined at the insistence of Presley and her best friend, Derrick. Let’s be real–they totally peer-pressured me into it.

“You know me,” I say with a chuckle, “more luck finding a lost chapter than a date.” I roll my eyes to suppress a smile and start gathering the books to return them to the shelves.

Presley pushes off the counter to help, but she’s not gonna let this go.

“There’s gotta be someone in your inbox who’s grabbed your attention.”

“There might be… if I’d bother to look,” I hesitantly admit.

Her jaw drops.

“You haven’t even looked? Not once?”

Refusing to meet her eyes, I shake my head.

It’s been eight months since my ex walked out on me out of nowhere, and even though our separation was the best thing that ever happened to me, I’ve been hesitant to put myself back out there. I could come up with a million reasons why me trying to date again is a bad idea. The most important is that I’m not sure I’m entirely ready.

I spent the first few weeks after he left angry that he couldn’t have a conversation with me about his decision like a mature adult. Then, I waited for the hurt to set in, but it never did. Within a month of being on my own, I realized how happy I was without him. I hadn’t realized how much my mental health was suffering from the constant stress and weight of his expectations. Somehow, I had no idea how toxic our relationship was until it was over.

I’m happy on my own, content in my simple life.

But if I’m honest with myself… it feels like something is missing.

Part of me misses having a person.

I miss affection and attention.

Those are things I can’t give myself. Not really.

And I want those things. Badly.

Those wants are what made me eventually give into Presley and Derrick when they nagged me for days about putting myself out there and joining a dating app. I guess now I just need to get over whatever the hell is going on in my head that keeps holding me back.

“Oh, he’s cute.”

I groan, already knowing what I’m gonna see when I turn around.

Sure enough, Presley’s behind the counter with my phone in her hands.

“How did you even get into that?” I ask, marching across the store.

I try to snatch my phone from her, but she lifts it high above her head and laughs. Presley is several inches taller than me naturally. Add in the heeled boots she’s wearing and there’s not a chance in hell I’m getting the phone from her.

“Damn it, Presley,” I curse, trying my luck anyway. “Haven’t you ever heard of a little thing called privacy?”

“Not my fault you don’t have a lock on your phone.”

Breathless from the useless battle with her, I give up and lean back against the counter.

“A problem I’ll be fixing as soon as you give it back.”

Presley looks up from the screen and smiles. “Fine, but before that… you gotta look through the guys trying to match with you.”

“You’re a bully,” I insist, holding out my hand.

“I’m a friend,” she replies, placing my phone into my palm. “A friend who cares about your happiness.”

“And you really think I’ll find it here?” I murmur, glancing down at the screen.

“Won’t know unless you try.”

It’s the gentleness in her voice that convinces me to look. Something in her tone tells me she understands how hard this is for me.

She’s quiet as I start browsing through the guys that have liked my profile. The first few aren’t really my type. Looks aren’t everything, but there has to be some type of physical attraction for me to be interested. I skip over several that have no pictures or barely any details in the profile. I kinda feel like if they can’t put any effort into a simple dating profile, they probably wouldn’t put much effort into a relationship.

I’m tapping the X on another guy when Presley pipes up. “You gotta give someone a chance.”

“Well, it won’t be this guy,” I protest, showing her the screen. “He’s half my age!”

Her laughter is all the agreement I need.

I keep scrolling.

Several more barely legal guys and a couple old enough to be my father later, a picture grabs my attention. My eyes flit to his name, then back to his face. I spend entirely too long looking at his picture before checking out the rest of his profile. His location is listed in Asheville, which is only a few hours from here.

What are the odds?

“Find one?” Presley asks, leaning closer to get a look. “Ooooh. He seems like your type.”

“I’d hope so,” I murmur. “I’m pretty sure we dated back when I was like twenty.”

I get lost staring at his picture, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me or if it’s really him. I lived in Florida back then, and I can’t even really remember why we broke up, but I’m almost positive it’s him.

“Second chance romance?” Presley says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I’m here for it. Message him.”

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I tap on the text box and start typing.

Me: This might be weird, but did you used to live in Florida?

“That’s it?” she asks when I hit send.

“I wanna make sure it’s him. It’d be even more awkward if he’s not the same guy.”

“You’re probably right,” she mutters, sounding distracted.

I don’t look to see what has her attention because I can’t tear my own away from my phone, waiting to see if he responds. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait too long, and the message he sends me back confirms that he used to live there too. Still second-guessing myself, and hoping he doesn’t think I'm unhinged, I type only the name of the town and a question mark.

“It’s him. You know it is.”

I can’t exactly argue with her. I felt it in my gut the second I saw his face.

“Yeah,” I agree, “but I don’t know what the hell I’m doing…” My words trail off as I look up from my phone to see Presley typing furiously on hers. “What are you doing?”

A smile forms on her lips, but she barely spares me a glance. “Keeping Derrick updated. He’s mad as hell that he’s stuck at the hospital tonight.”

I’m not.

Dealing with Presley’s presence is enough right now.

Presley has been coming to my bookstore since before it was mine. Over the years, we’ve bonded through our love of books, and she’s become the closest thing I have to a friend. Derrick came as a completely unexpected bonus. It’s like I got a two-for-one deal, and I’m not complaining. I love them both.

But Derrick brings a whole other level of energy that I’m not sure I’m equipped to deal with right now. I’m anxious enough as it is, and I’m not about to dig too deeply as to why I feel that way.

Instead of responding to her, I turn my attention back to the app to see there’s a new message waiting for me. I bite my lip, reading the words in black and white on the screen. The words that describe exactly where in the town he used to live.

There’s absolutely no mistaking it now.

It’s him.

It’s Russell.

And I have no idea what to say to him, so I just type the first thing that pops into my head.

Me: I’m pretty sure we dated… like 17 years ago.

Presley snorts. “Smooth.”

“Shut up,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I didn’t know what else to say. I don’t know if he remembers me or not.”

“He does,” she says, nodding toward my phone.

She’s right.

Russell: I thought you looked familiar.

“Now what?” I mutter to myself.

But Presley gives me an answer anyway.

“Now, you talk to him. Catch up on life, and whatever happens… let it happen.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“It is easy. Just don’t overthink it,” she tells me with a knowing look.

It’s my turn to snort.

Telling me not to overthink is like telling me not to breathe.

It’s just the way my brain is wired.

“I’m serious, Liz,” she says. “It’s like this quote I saw the other day on Instagram. It was something like, ‘In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take–’”

“‘The relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make,’” I finish, recognizing the popular Lewis Carroll quote immediately.

“Of course you know it,” she jokes with a playful eye roll. “It’s true, though. You never know what might happen, but I think you’ll regret not finding out.”

And damn it, she’s right.

So before I talk myself out of it, I message him back.