Chapter 29

After a long day at the library, filled with awkward encounters and uncomfortable conversations, I couldn't wait to get home and decompress. I wanted a glass of wine and a bubble bath. That stupid tub Samantha talked about was sounding very good at the moment. I got home and Karen was sprawled out on the sofa, lost in her phone.

"Rylee at work?" I asked as I kicked off my shoes.

"Yep. There's leftover mac and cheese if you want it."

"Thanks. I'm going to change. Anything exciting happening?"

"Nope," she replied without looking up from her phone. "Just searching the rental options."

I groaned. That was the last thing I wanted to think about. I needed one crisis at a time.

I went to my room and pulled out my phone. I couldn't hold Lauren completely responsible for Jameson, but I wanted to ask her to maybe not pass along every bit of information I told her. I knew there was a rule between engaged couples. If you told one, you had to just assume you were telling another one. There was no separation.

Lauren picked up on the first ring. "Hi," she answered.

"Hello."

"I heard about what happened at the library," she blurted out. "I'm sorry Jameson was such an ass."

I sighed. "It's okay. I know he means well." I did my best to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "But I've handled things with Archer. It's over now. Jameson doesn't need to be my personal bodyguard."

Lauren chuckled softly. "He says he owes you one," she said. "And I agree. He definitely does."

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall and replaying the entire ridiculous exchange at the library. "That's sweet of him," I replied.

Jameson's protective nature was endearing, but I didn't want pity. All of them saw me as the weak one. The one that couldn't stand up for herself. Lauren had tried to rescue me and now Jameson. Everyone always saw me as the girl that needed to be saved. I was tired of it.

"Mary Ellen, are you okay?" Lauren asked gently.

I hesitated for a moment before deciding to share my concerns. "I appreciate Jameson looking out for me, but I'm not quite as fragile as you guys think."

"We don't think you're fragile," she corrected. "I understand, Mary Ellen, but it's about wanting to support you. You don't have to do everything alone. Sometimes, well, you tend to be quiet. We don't want you to be hurt. We're trying to look out for you."

I knew she meant well, but the desire to prove myself burned fiercely within me. "I know, Lauren. And I appreciate all of you so much. But I need to figure things out on my own."

She laughed. "Okay, we'll back off, but you know you can come to us with anything. We will always have your back. I'll tell Jameson to play nice. He can be a bit of a bear sometimes."

"I know he meant well, and I do appreciate it, but I have to fall and skin my knees," I told her. "I'm going to get my heart broken. It's just part of life. I'm good with it. I'm not saying I want it, but I'm tired of playing it safe."

"Understood. Fly free, my little butterfly."

I laughed. "Thanks. Have a good night. I'm going to find something to eat. Karen said there was mac and cheese."

"Oh goodness, don't eat that."

"Exactly." I giggled softly. "Thank you again for being such a good friend."

I changed into my soft leggings and a hoodie before going into the kitchen. I opened the fridge, saw the mac and cheese, and decided that was a definite no.

"You don't want mac and cheese?" Karen asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Um, I was thinking maybe something else," I said.

"How was your day?" she asked.

I laughed. "I think the word they use is shitshow."

She burst into laughter. "That bad. What happened?"

I hesitated. "Well, it started with the developers showing up. I got to meet the very enigmatic Samantha Hunt."

"That sounds very sarcastic." Karen laughed and held up the container with rice.

I shook my head and pulled out some fresh veggies. We didn't need words. We were making a dinner of veggies, chicken, and rice.

"She was going on and on about how she was going to live in the penthouse in the building going on top of my library," I muttered. "She couldn't stop talking about all the cool stuff that would be in her fancy penthouse."

Karen filled the pot with water and put it on the stove. The flames flickered to life beneath it. She shot me a sideways glance. "And what's wrong with her living in the penthouse?"

I shrugged, slicing the vegetables with more force than necessary. "It's not just that. She was acting like she owned the place already, like she had a right to be there. They are going to tear down the whole neighborhood. They are looking forward to making it all fancy and unaffordable. She had the audacity to complain about the lack of amenities that would suit her needs. I don't know. It just pisses me off."

"Entitled," Karen stated matter-of-factly.

"Exactly! Like she could just waltz in and take whatever she wanted without a care for anyone else." I paused, realizing how heated I had become. "Sorry, I'm just frustrated. I'm losing my job and the library I love, and she gets amazing views and a big-ass tub. I want a big-ass tub."

Karen nodded sympathetically. "I get it. It's tough seeing someone come in with all these privileges while you're losing something so important to you. But you know what? You have something she'll never have."

"What's that?" I asked, intrigued despite myself.

"You have us," Karen said with a smile. "You have people who support you, who care about you, and who will stand by your side through thick and thin. No penthouse or fancy tub can ever replace that."

"Thanks. I've been thinking about the house. When I lose this job, I have no idea how much I can expect to make. I don't want to keep you guys down. Maybe you should look for an apartment for the two of you."

"Absolutely not," she said. "We'll look for something that fits your budget."

"That's just what I'm saying. I don't know what my budget will be."

"Maybe you can transfer to another library," she suggested.

"I don't know." I sighed. "Maybe. Archer came in today."

She whipped her head around. "Seriously? What did he want?"

"I don't know. He wanted to apologize, I guess. I don't know. He left and then—wait, did Lauren tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

I sighed and told her about Jameson coming into the library and trying to humiliate Archer. "Now everyone thinks I need to be coddled like a fragile flower."

Karen's expression turned sympathetic as she listened, her features softening with understanding. "Mary Ellen, sometimes people just want to help in their own way. It doesn't mean they see you as weak. But if you want to prove yourself and stand on your own, that's your right too."

"I know," I replied, offering her a small smile. "But I'm tired of being the damsel in distress. I want to stand up for myself and show everyone that I can handle whatever comes my way, without needing anyone to rescue me. I appreciate the support, I really do, but I need to be strong on my own terms."

Karen nodded thoughtfully, her eyes full of admiration. "I have no doubt that you can do it. You're one of the strongest people I know, Mary Ellen. You're the quiet kind of strong. You don't flaunt your strength. You just kind of sneak up on people."

I felt a surge of determination, fueled by Karen's words of encouragement. I was so glad she didn't tell me the dreaded "I told you so" about the Archer situation.

"I don't know about that." I laughed. "I just worry I'm not going to find a good man. What is wrong with me that I keep falling for the wrong guys?"

"The right guy is out there, Mary Ellen," she said reassuringly, her voice gentle. "You just have to be patient. In the meantime, you can pour your energy into more productive things."

"Like what?" I muttered. "Basket weaving? Maybe I can do photography. Of course, I would probably need a camera for that."

"Like saving the library," she added with a laugh. "Your flyers look great. Look, I took this picture when I picked up groceries today."

Karen showed me a picture on her phone of the bulletin board at the local grocery store. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of the glossy, eye-catching poster about the fundraiser to save the library. It looked so professional, so legitimate.

And nothing like any of the cheesy posters I made.

I grabbed her phone and zoomed in on the picture. There was a long list of local businesses who would be participating as vendors, selling products and donating proceeds to the cause. There was something for everyone: food trucks, a beer garden, a youth group performing Shakespeare, a face painter, musicians, even a bouncy castle. I found myself speechless.

"This isn't mine," I said.

"What?"

"This is incredible, but I didn't do this," I said.

I knew immediately that Archer was behind it. But what did it mean? Did he deserve a second chance after everything that had happened between us?

"Who did?"

"Archer," I said.

I found myself smiling at the picture, feeling gratitude and admiration for Archer's efforts. He had leaned on his connections to pull this off. It was clear he was committed to helping me save the library. It was hard to be angry with him when he was doing so much for me.

"Archer?" Karen repeated. "Wow."

"Yes, wow," I said.

"Did he do this to get in your good graces?" she asked. "Because if he did, I think you still need to be careful. I'm not sure I trust him. When you're rich, it's easy to make grand gestures."

Karen's words of caution lingered in my mind but I couldn't shake off the warmth spreading through my chest at the thought of Archer going above and beyond to support the cause. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye, more depth and kindness hidden behind the tough exterior.

"But it was nice, right?" I said. "I mean, if you would have seen the ones I made, you would laugh."

"Sweetie, I did see the ones you made. I thought maybe you had some of the kids from the children's group make them."

"That's rude!"

"Sorry, sorry." Karen backtracked quickly, holding her hands up in surrender with a small laugh. "I don't want to hurt your feelings. But seriously, this flyer is on a whole different level. It's professional and eye-catching. Archer really outdid himself."

I couldn't deny the truth in her words. Despite my reservations about Archer, his dedication to the library fundraiser was undeniable. Maybe there was a side to him that I hadn't seen before, a side that genuinely wanted to make a positive impact. Could this be his way of making amends? But for who? Was it for me or was it for him?

"You know what?" I smiled. "I'll be right back."

"Keep it in perspective," she warned. "It's a flyer. A flyer is not true love."

I sent the picture from her phone to mine and then texted him a picture of the flyer with a simple message. "Thank you."

Maybe he wasn't as bad as I thought. He made a mistake and learned from it. How long did he have to pay for it?