“He almost kissed you!” Missy squealed, her eyebrows higher than I’d ever seen them. “Why did he not completely kiss you?”
“There’s a family in Aberdeen who didn’t hear you,” I said.
“I repeat, why did he not completely kiss you?”
“I thought I heard someone on the stairs and…”
Missy sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. “So you backed out?” she asked. “Again?”
“No, I… well… I guess. Sort of. The first time wasn’t backing out – we were in a public bar.”
“Do you actually want him to kiss you?”
“Yes, of course I do,” I replied, almost too enthusiastically. I could feel myself blushing again. “How’s Bryn?” I asked, trying to change the subject. “Is he coming to book club again this week?” I thought about Bella and Missy and the two Vikings, and how out of place they’d looked dancing a quadrille.
“Bryn isn’t really my type, but he’s fun for now,” Missy replied. “Let’s get back to talking about Xander. You definitely want him to kiss you.”
“Yes,” I said, more quietly this time but with no less enthusiasm. “I want him to kiss me.”
“Hallelujah,” Missy shouted, throwing her hands in the air, and for the second time that morning I was glad I’d shut the office door behind me. “Progress.”
“He did kiss the top of my head as he left,” I said, smiling at the memory. “Although it was mostly awkward.”
She shook her head. “You’re both as bad as each other.”
“Once bitten twice shy, I guess,” I replied. “You must get that too?”
She nodded and looked away. “And he’s taking you out tonight?” she asked, pretending to do something on her laptop like she always did whenever I mentioned her first love. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure, but we’re meeting in the tearoom at seven and I have no idea what to wear…”
“The black dress with white spots,” she interrupted.
“Thanks.” I should have left then, the shop was busy and I knew Colin would be seething if I didn’t get out there soon, but I hovered near the door. Missy must have noticed my hesitation as she looked up.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
“I am… it’s just a lot has happened over the last few days. It’s a bit…”
“I think we both know you’re ready to get on with your life,” she interrupted. “Or at least to work out what your next steps are – and I personally think Xander Stone is a good person to do a bit of moving on with, if you get my drift.” She winked at me, just to make sure I knew what she was talking about, even though we all always knew what Missy was talking about. “Now get out of here and sell some books so these spreadsheets don’t look so depressing.”
*
The bookshop was busy for the rest of the afternoon. The Christmas shoppers had finally decided to descend upon us, and I had to drag Mum down from her writing cave to help for a few hours. Xander’s new book was selling fast, which might have had something to do with the brilliant window display Colin had done for the book launch. The shop had two big bay windows either side of the main door, perfect for bookish window displays, and in the other window I’d made a Christmas tree out of festive romance novels, but the romance novels weren’t selling anywhere near as well as Xander’s book. For a moment I thought about how much Xander would gloat when he found out but then I remembered the shocking truth – that Xander was Ruby Bell and that perhaps he’d quite like it if some of Ruby’s books sold as well. I made a mental note to do a table display of Ruby Bell books when I got a chance.
I was glad the shop was busy, and not just because it stopped me from spending the afternoon overanalysing my dinner with Xander tonight. Thinking about the fact that this was probably the last Christmas that Taylor’s Bookshop would be trading was almost too much to bear. I knew Dad was right; I knew there really wasn’t any option now other than to sell up, but as Xander had said, it was heart-breaking when bookshops closed – especially one that you’d grown up in. I knew that behind his bravado, Dad would be feeling the same too. By being busy at least we had some hope of going out with a bang rather than a whimper.
Halfway through the afternoon, my father reappeared with Fred Bishop in tow. I hadn’t seen Fred for years – he’d retired from his former career as a bookseller at Taylor’s just after Joe’s leukaemia came back and I hadn’t been able to come to his leaving party. I had no idea that he and Dad kept in touch, or indeed that Fred still lived in York. I wondered why he hadn’t been in to see Mum and me over the last three years.
It was good to see him, but we didn’t have much time to stand and chat as the shop continued to be busy and every time Colin was left behind the till on his own he started growling and grumbling and rolling his eyes – goodness knows how he’d react when I told him Dad was selling up. In the end Fred himself decided to help out. “Things can’t have changed that much,” he said as he went to help a Christmas shopper choose some books for her teenage grandchildren. Not long after that, I noticed Mum and Dad disappear upstairs and I pondered what was going on there.
But I didn’t have much time to overanalyse that either, and before I knew it we were ushering our last customer out of the door and I had less than an hour to get ready and get myself to the tearoom to meet Xander.
I had time to change my clothes, perform one of those ‘day-to-night’ miracles on my makeup and defrizz my hair, which was the best I could manage with it at the moment – it didn’t seem to have recovered from getting caught in the snow on Sunday. I set off quietly for the tearoom without shouting goodbye to my parents – I couldn’t face the fuss they’d make.
The Two Teas Café was a very welcome addition, even if I wasn’t as into tea as most of the people who frequented it. It was heaving with Christmas shoppers when I arrived and Xander was already there, chatting to Ben and purchasing his beloved Lapsang Souchong.
“You should try the Russian Caravan too,” Ben said. “I love that one.”
As Ben was ringing the purchases through the till, I walked up to Xander and lightly touched his arm.
“Hi,” he said softly, turning to me. “This place is fantastic; I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before.”
I grinned. I knew he would love it.
“I was going to suggest staying for a cuppa,” Xander went on. “But it’s so busy – shall we just go and get food instead?”
“Sure, what did you have in mind?”
“Pizza?”
Of all the foods.
Pizza had been what Joe and I ate on our first date and suddenly everything about that first night out with him came back to me in flashes – his leg against mine under the table, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the anticipation…
I made myself look at Xander, to ground myself in this moment. His suggestion of pizza didn’t mean anything. I had a whole life in front of me and only I could choose what to do with it. I took a breath.
“Pizza would be great,” I said.
The pizza place that Joe and I had gone to had long since gone out of business. It had been a greasy, hole-in-the-wall sort of place that should probably have been condemned. It served the sort of pizzas that were overly doughy and covered in oily yellow cheese. The only reason I’d ever had fond memories of it was because of what it represented. I usually ended up with stomach-ache every time we ate there.
Xander took me to a trendy Italian restaurant on the other side of the city and as we sat down I knew there were no similarities between that night thirteen years ago and tonight. Then Joe and I were two kids excitedly taking our first steps into adulthood. Tonight Xander and I were two slightly jaded, slightly broken adults getting to know each other after our previous faltering first steps had been rather disastrous.
Once we’d ordered our food we started talking about the Ruby Bell manuscript. We’d agreed beforehand to not mention the name Ruby Bell in public, but to just refer to it as ‘the manuscript’.
“I’m ashamed to even let you read it,” Xander said. “But I’ve emailed you a copy. I can get a hard copy to you if you prefer.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll do a first edit on screen.” I hesitated. “I did see your email but I haven’t opened it yet. I’m happy to just delete it if you prefer.”
“Part of me wants to say yes, delete it and we’ll forget this whole sorry affair. Philomena can invent a tragic story that explains the disappearance of our dear, beloved Ruby and we can pretend none of it ever happened…”
“I sense a but,” I said.
“But I’m contracted to write one more so I’m going to swallow my pride, ask you not to judge me and be very grateful for your help.”
“How soon do you want me to get to this?” I asked. “If I get my head down I can probably get through it in a day or two.”
“It might not even take you that long. It’s not even a full manuscript – only about 50,000 words. I sort of… ran out of steam.”
He looked sad and dejected and I was about to change the subject when our pizzas arrived.
“These pizzas are so good,” Xander said, cutting into his. “Almost as good as the Sunday lunches at Graydon Hall. There’s a reason I come up to York as often as I do.”
“How often do you come up?” I asked.
“I’ve visited a few times since Dot moved here the year before last, and I’d come up more often if I could – I originally only came to see her but I sort of fell in love with the city.” He paused. “It gave me some distance from London, from Mum’s death.” I understood that well enough.
“And you always stay with Dot?”
He smiled. “She won’t hear of me staying in a hotel and of course it means I can usually bring Gus with me.”
“And it’s the food you come up for?” I asked. “Because there aren’t any restaurants in London?” Although admittedly these pizzas were excellent, with just the right balance of tangy tomato and stringy, melt-in-the-mouth mozzarella. I wondered how long this restaurant had been open and why I’d never noticed it before. I really had been living inside my own bubble for far too long.
Xander laughed. “Between you and me,” he said, “sometimes I grow tired of London.” He looked up from his pizza. “And don’t you dare quote Samuel Johnson at me – being tired of London has nothing to do with being tired of life and everything to do with wanting a smaller, quieter life. God,” he went on. “I sound like an old man, but there it is.”
“I didn’t just leave London because of all the memories,” I said. “When I was rational enough to think about life after Joe’s death, I didn’t think I could navigate London on my own and, perhaps more importantly, I didn’t want to. We didn’t even live in central London but it all felt a bit too much.”
“Where did you live?” he asked.
“Kingston,” I replied. “By the river, but I wanted to live in a smaller city, somewhere where I could walk from one side to the other without navigating buses and trains and the underground.” I paused. “Coming back to York was just coming home for me though. You grew up in London.”
“If you’d told me ten years ago that I’d grow tired of it, that I’d want something quieter, I’d have laughed in your face. But the more time I spend in York the more I realise that it makes me happy. Plus, if I sold my flat I could probably find something bigger up here – maybe even with a garden for Gus.”
“You really love that dog, don’t you?” I asked, noticing his almost misty-eyed expression.
“He changed my life for the better.” Xander shrugged. “The least he deserves is a garden to dig holes in rather than my expensive rugs!”
I thought about my father then, about his desire for a bigger life – the opposite of what Xander wanted. I had to admit that I’d been surprised that he’d come rushing back as soon as Mum had told him about the shop – after all, if he’d wanted to sell he could easily have done that from overseas through a lawyer. I wondered if there was more to his sudden reappearance than just the dire state of the bookshop finances, and if perhaps he’d already known the shop hadn’t been doing well – he hadn’t seemed very surprised, after all. And why did he and Mum keep disappearing together?
“When you offered to look at the manuscript, was it a tentative step back into editing?” Xander asked.
“I honestly don’t know. When I left Rogers & Hudson I genuinely never thought I’d want to return, but now I’m having second thoughts. I’m not sure I want to do the same thing though.”
“Not editing again?”
I shrugged. “You know, it’s funny,” I said. “But at the end of your book launch Philomena gave me her card and told me to call her. She seemed to be having some sort of premonition that I’d want to change career imminently.”
“I told you she was good.” Xander smiled. “Too good, most of the time.” He looked at me, his final piece of pizza halfway to his mouth. “Perhaps you should call her though.”
“You think so?”
He nodded. “She knows literally everyone in publishing and beyond. At the very least she might be able to help you with your next steps.”
“She seemed quite pushy,” I said. “And a bit rude.”
“You thought I was rude when you first met me and yet here you are, having dinner with me.”
“You wore me down,” I acknowledged. “But she seemed to know so much about me, it was a bit creepy.”
“Like I said, she knows everybody and their business. But she’s one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. She gets a bit over the top at my book launches – I think it’s to compensate for the fact that I hate doing them so much – but I’d say it would definitely be worth getting some advice from her at the very least.”
I felt a bubble of excitement erupt inside me as though something great was on the horizon, if I just let go a little and allowed it to happen. It had always been Joe who had pushed me forward in my career – insisting I apply for the internship in the first place and then encouraging me to go for each promotion. There had to be something out there for me, and maybe Xander was right, maybe Philomena Bloom was the person to guide me in the right direction.
I felt Xander’s leg against mine under the table and the bubble of excitement turned into something else, something that made my breath catch in my throat. I remembered how he’d almost kissed me in the living room this morning, how I’d wanted him to kiss me.
“Would you like dessert or coffee?” he asked.
We ordered dessert and coffee and brandy, neither of us eager to leave or for the evening to end.
“I finished Persuasion,” he said.
“And?” I felt genuinely apprehensive that he wouldn’t love one of my favourite books.
“My favourite of your recommendations so far,” he replied.
“Phew.”
He put his hand on his chest. “That letter,” he said, pretending to swoon.
“I know, right! That’s exactly what makes Fred Wentworth the greatest romantic hero – so much better than Darcy. Darcy would never write a letter like that.”
“So you like a man who can write,” he replied with a wink.
After we’d dragged dinner out for so long that we were the last people in the restaurant, Xander walked me back to the bookshop. My hand automatically found the crook of his elbow, as though it belonged there. As we walked through the cold, frosty streets of York – signs of Christmas all around us – I felt a contentment that had eluded me for years, even before Joe’s death. I’d been living for him for so long I’d forgotten how to live for myself. This contentment might be temporary but right now I felt I was exactly where I wanted to be.
When we got to the bookshop there were no signs of life and we stood outside for a moment, murmuring our goodbyes quietly. The last thing I wanted was to alert my parents to our presence and for them to invite Xander inside. I wanted to come home as quietly as I’d left.
“I’ve been wondering for days what it would be like to kiss you,” Xander said softly as he leaned in towards me, stroking my hair again. My stomach flipped. Tonight felt like a night of new beginnings and steps forward.
A night to kiss someone new.
I moved closer and tilted my head up towards him. In the porchway of the shop that doubled as my childhood home, Xander Stone finally kissed me – tentatively at first, as though asking for my permission and then harder, more persistently, his tongue stroking against mine. The flicker in my belly turned into a fire as I pressed myself against him.
His kiss was different to Joe’s – quieter, more serious, just like Xander himself, and I wondered if everyone kissed in accordance with their personalities and if so, what were my kisses like?
It surprised me that he was the one who pulled away first. I had thought it would be me – filled with nerves or shame or guilt, especially as we stood in the same doorway in which Joe had kissed me for the first time. But I felt none of those things. Just a vague disappointment that Xander wasn’t kissing me anymore.
“Stop overthinking it,” he said gently.
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “It’s just this is the first time I’ve kissed anyone new…”
“I know,” he whispered as he stroked my hair. “Me too. But I’ve been wanting to do that since I first met you.”
“Really? When you met me in the supermarket?”
“Well I did mean the first time that we stood on this doorstep,” he said, his lips curving into a smile at the memory. “But you certainly left an impression in the supermarket too!”
“But you were so rude to me on both those occasions!”
He shrugged. “Like little boys pulling the pigtails of the girls they fancy at school.”
I laughed, leaning my head against him until he tilted my chin up with his fingers to kiss me all over again.
“I’d better leave you to get your beauty sleep,” he said eventually, reluctantly. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here all day,” I replied.
“We can practise our quadrille before Thursday.”
“You’re coming to book club again?” I asked.
He tilted his head on one side. “Is it a book club anymore when all we do is dance quadrilles and talk about mock-turtle soup?”