Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

RYLEE

I reland was everything I'd hoped it would be, and then we headed to Scotland, which was steeped in history, drenched in rain, and brimming with charm. Simon and I had broken off from the tour group to explore on our own. We found ourselves ducking into a quaint bookstore to escape the persistent drizzle.

It had been a few days since our intimate moment in the shower, and it seemed like it was all I could think about. That connection, the closeness, the way he made me feel—it lingered in my mind, coloring every interaction.

We had been unable to find any time alone together since then. We were constantly surrounded by our little group, which wasn't terrible, but I did miss hanging out with just him. I felt like I had to share him with the others. Everyone got along well with him. And he seemed to be having a good time. I didn't want to take that away from him.

"Wow," I said once we were inside. "This place is incredible. I can't believe this is a store."

Simon's hair was wet, hanging over his eyes as he browsed the shelves, occasionally lifting a book to read a few pages. I couldn't help but watch him, captivated by the way his brow furrowed when he was focused and how his jaw tightened. He was gorgeous, effortlessly blending into the cozy atmosphere of the bookstore, despite being a wealthy oil and gas overlord from Houston.

He caught me staring. "What?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"I'm glad you're here," I said, meaning every word.

"I'm glad I'm here too." He grinned.

The bookstore was perfect. Four stories of creaking floorboards, filled with the rich aroma of old books, wood polish, and dust. I wasn't a big reader, but I did appreciate the history.

"What's your favorite book?" he asked. "I bet you we can find a first edition copy here."

"I'm not sure. I love so many," I admitted, my fingers tracing over the spine of a book. "But I suppose if I had to pick one, it would be Wuthering Heights. I really like anything by the Bronte sisters."

"Really?" He looked surprised. "I've never read that one."

"I had never read it until I was up in the middle of the night and happened to see an old movie," I explained. "I was so intrigued by the movie I had to read the book."

He nodded, his eyes scanning the shelves of classics until he finally spotted a worn copy. He reached out and pulled it from the shelf, flipping it open to check its publishing date. "Well, here it is. It's not a first edition but pretty close." He handed it to me with a soft smile. "A little piece of history."

I took the book reverently, running my fingers over the faded cover with a sense of awe. My fingers brushed against the yellowed pages, and I couldn't help but imagine all the people who had read this book before me, and all the different lives it had touched.

Then I checked the price tag and almost choked. "That's very cool," I said and put it back on the shelf.

"What are you doing?" he asked and reached for it again.

"That is way too much money for a book you can't actually read," I whispered. "It's cool, but I can buy a copy for a dollar and actually read it."

"But this is special," he said. "It's not just a book. It's something you put on your shelf because it means something. I'm buying it for you."

"You can't," I hissed.

He chuckled. "I can pretty much do whatever I want."

I rolled my eyes. "The problems of the rich."

We continued to explore the store together, climbing up to the fourth floor. Every step made the floorboards creak in protest, adding to the sense of history. The smell of books and old wood surrounded us, and I felt like I could spend forever here. On the fourth floor, we paused at a single-pane window to look out at the city beyond. Edinburgh Castle stood proudly on the hill, a majestic backdrop against the blue sky. Down below, tourists milled about, hidden by their umbrellas. I spotted our new travel friends under the cover of a coffee shop, sipping drinks and laughing.

"I'm sad this trip is almost over," I confessed to Simon. "I've had an incredible time, but I'm a bit nervous about going home."

"Why are you nervous?" he asked, turning his attention fully to me.

I took a deep breath, trying to put my feelings into words. "I wanted this trip so badly because being home with all my friends has made me feel like they're all moving up and onward, and I'm still stuck pouring martinis and trying to figure out who I am and where I belong. I want what they have—husbands, future children, homes, careers. All of it. But it all feels so out of reach. I always imagined I'd be married with two kids by now. Those were my childhood dreams. And then I got older and realized life is expensive. And finding a good man was impossible. I work in a bar. The men I meet leave a lot to be desired."

He chuckled. "You met me there."

I gave him a dry look. "And you were just like so many of the other guys that hit on me. It was all about getting my number and hoping to get me into bed."

He winced. "Maybe when I first saw you, that thought crossed my mind, but after you basically told me to fuck off, I knew it was different. That's not what I wanted."

"If ten-year-old me could see me now." The disappointment was clear in my voice as I stared at the castle. "I would wonder what the hell I was doing. Where did I get so off track?"

Simon looked out at the view. "Little Rylee would think this was epic," he said finally. "She'd see a brave version of herself who took risks, who went after what she wanted, who worked hard for what she had, and who was surrounded by people who love her. You didn't settle. You didn't just take the first man that came along and agree to have his babies. You're selective. You've got time, Rylee. Let your vision for your future breathe a little."

I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. "You know, for a douchebag, you're pretty wise."

He burst out laughing, and several people in the bookstore shushed us. I blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed but happy. "Good to know," he said. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I find that hard to believe," I quipped back, raising an eyebrow at him. "Especially when you buy overpriced editions of classic novels for people."

He shrugged, a playful grin on his face. "What can I say? I'm just full of surprises."

We perused more of the shelves that weren't really arranged like a typical Barnes and Nobles. That was what made it fun. It was like a treasure hunt, searching for the best book. Simon offered to buy me several more novels, but I steadfastly refused each time. It wasn't about the price—although some of them were astronomically expensive—so much as the principle.

"I don't need expensive things to make me happy," I told him, tracing my fingers along the soft leather binding of a vintage poetry collection. "I just need good company and a sense of purpose. And maybe some nice words every now and then."

Simon watched me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You're not like other girls, are you?"

I laughed at his clichéd line. "Probably not. Trust me, that annoys more people than you know."

"I doubt it would annoy anyone who matters," Simon responded, looking back at me intently. A hint of admiration crept into his gaze, which was unexpected. "When you told me you were going to Europe by yourself, I knew you were brave and independent. If anyone is annoyed by you, I think it has more to do with them being jealous. They admire you. They want to be you."

I smiled. "Thanks, but I think if anyone spent a day in my life, they would definitely not admire me."

We continued to search the shelves. I noticed the time and told him it was time to meet up with everyone.

"I think we should go," I whispered.

"In a minute," he replied, tipping my chin up with one finger and giving me a sweet, gentle kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made everything else fade away—the rain, the books, the creaking floorboards—all that mattered was us. The peacefulness of the library made the kiss feel almost reverent.

When we finally pulled away, I felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. We made our way back down the narrow staircases, hand in hand, sharing smiles and stolen glances. The rain had eased up a bit. Hopefully, that meant we would be able to continue our exploration of the city without getting drenched.

Simon carried the book to the counter.

"Good choice," the man behind the counter said.

Simon flashed a smile at me. "I agree."

He handed over his credit card. I cringed at the price, but I was beginning to understand it was no big thing to him. The man carefully wrapped the book, put it inside a box, and handed it over.

We walked out of the store together. Simon handed me the bag.

"Thank you for this," I said. "I really, really appreciate it but you don't need to buy me things."

"Rylee," he responded, stopping under the cover of a rain-soaked awning. "It's not about buying you things. It's about sharing with someone I care about. I like to see you smile. And you let me crash your vacation. It means a lot to me. No one really invites me to do this kind of thing."

I looked up at him, surprised. He seemed completely sincere. It made me feel bad for him.

"Besides," he continued. "I think this trip has made me realize what really matters in life."

"And what's that?"

"People, Rylee. And memories. You can't put a price tag on experiences and sentiment. I will always remember sleeping in that horrible fucking bunkbed. It was awful and yet I loved it."

I laughed. "That bed was a piece of junk. I'm surprised it didn't collapse with you on top."

Simon gave a hearty laugh in response. "A couple more nights, and it might have."

Silence fell between us as we continued to walk toward the group still sitting outside and enjoying their drinks. Despite the gloomy weather, I couldn't help but feel lighthearted. Simon's words were so true. It wasn't about material possessions or reaching certain milestones by a specific age. It was about experience and the people we shared those experiences with.

"Hey, guys," Claire greeted us when we approached. "How was your exploring?"

"We went to a bookstore," I said. "It was amazing."

"What book did you get?" one of the guys asked.

Simon pulled out a chair for me. I looked at him, smiling so big it hurt my face. "Simon bought me an old copy of Wuthering Heights."

"Wow!" Claire exclaimed. "That's awesome."

"I'm very excited, but now I'm going to be stressing about keeping it safe. I've already lost a passport on this trip. I don't dare lose this. It's far too valuable."

"Let's take it back to the hostel and then we can meet up and go to the castle," Simon suggested. "It'll only take ten minutes."

"Are you guys cool with waiting?" I asked the group.

"We'll wait." Claire nodded.