Xander woke me gently, very early the next morning. “I need to get back to take Gus out,” he said, blinking sleepily. “And I really shouldn’t have slept in contact lenses.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, remembering how he’d told me at Graydon Hall that contact lenses weren’t conducive to unplanned nights away.
“It was worth it.” He smiled.
We crept downstairs together so I could let him out the back way. It was still dark as we stood in the doorway and he turned towards me to kiss me goodbye, pressing me against the doorframe.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for trusting me.”
I went back to bed after he’d gone, falling into a fitful doze, and it came as no surprise to me that when I woke up I felt suddenly sad and guilt-ridden, my head full of thoughts of Joe and how I wasn’t with him when he died. I could still hear the ‘drip, drip, drip’ of the coffee machine as it deposited its almost undrinkable contents into the white plastic cup, just as I could still hear the ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the machines that helped to keep Joe alive, the palpable silence in his room when those machines weren’t needed anymore and the sound of my cup of coffee hitting the floor when I realised what had happened.
Healing is never linear. I learned that when I first moved back to York. Some days I would wake up and feel almost normal, as though I could get on and face the world, and then the next day I would wake up floored with grief again, unable to move, unable to get out of bed. The five stages of grief aren’t linear either – they all seem to exist together in one fiery hell ball of emotion that feels as though it will last forever. People will tell you that time heals but, in my experience, time just takes away the intensity. The grief and the anger and the rage are still there, but less so with each passing month until it becomes something you simply carry with you, like the memory of the person you’ve lost.
Usually when I woke up feeling like this I would panic, desperate not to spiral back into that place I had been in the immediate aftermath of Joe’s death. But today I lay there with my feelings, the duvet pulled up to my chin, the scent of Xander’s aftershave still on the pillow, and allowed all the sensations and the memories to wash over me. Things were different now, change was happening – it had started happening the day that Xander Stone and his eccentric agent walked through the door of Taylor’s Bookshop. As the feelings and the memories started to fade again, I allowed myself to remember the night before without guilt. I knew Xander would understand how I was feeling because he understood grief. He understood that it changes you, that it never fully leaves. I had no way of predicting the future, no way of knowing whether whatever was happening between Xander and me would last. But it felt right, and I felt a clarity that I hadn’t felt since before Joe’s diagnosis.
I pushed myself out of bed and into the shower, and vowed that today I would phone Philomena Bloom. I knew it would take a while to sell the bookshop and that Mum and Dad would probably need my help over the next few months, but it wouldn’t hurt to start putting feelers out into the publishing world again. I never thought I’d get to this place again, where I wanted to go back to working in publishing.
But I also wanted to enjoy the remainder of my life as a bookseller, especially these busy days before Christmas, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t abandon Colin in the shop on his own quite so much.
Of course, like all best laid plans, the day did not work out like that at all.
*
The bookshop had been open about half an hour when it happened. We were surprisingly busy for nine-thirty on a Friday morning and I felt a little spark, like the fairy lights on the Christmas tree, light up inside me, washing away the last vestiges of the memories and dark feelings I’d woken up with.
“You’re in a surprisingly good mood,” Colin said as he went off to restack the shelves in the cookery section. (Why was the cookery section so popular?)
“It’s Christmas,” I replied to his retreating back.
I manned the till while Colin was on the shop floor and gentle Christmas music played in the background – a playlist I’d been recommended by Ben at the tearoom when I’d complained about the quality of Christmas music that my father insisted on. I was feeling full of seasonal contentment. Mum was upstairs pretending to write but I’d heard her and Dad talking in loud whispers about something up in the attic earlier.
“Happy Christmas.” I smiled to the woman who had just paid for a stack of children’s books for her grandchildren.
My smile turned into a grin then as I saw Xander walk through the bookshop door. I hadn’t expected to see him until closing time and I was about to step out from behind the counter to talk to him when I saw that this wasn’t the Xander from last night, the one who’d shared my bed and kissed me until my lips stung, or the Xander whose smile could light up a whole room. This was the Xander who I’d first met in the supermarket back in November – his face white, his mouth set in a hard line.
He stood in front of me, tapping a rolled-up newspaper against his leg.
“We need to talk,” he said.
I felt an immediate sense of dread. It had only been a few hours since he’d kissed me against the back door of the shop. I wanted to tell him that we were too busy for me to talk, that Colin shouldn’t be left on his own again. I felt torn between my responsibility to the shop and Xander’s mercurial moods. What could possibly have happened since this morning to change everything so much?
“Not here,” I replied quietly. “Go into the office while I get Colin to cover the till.”
Colin complained, of course. “He’s here every five minutes,” he moaned about Xander. “What does he want now?”
“Please, Colin, I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Xander was standing with his back to me as I walked into the office, but he turned around as soon as he heard me shut the door.
“What the hell have you done?”
I looked at him blankly. What had I done?
He unrolled the newspaper and held it in front of him.
LITERARY WONDERKID IS SECRET BONKBUSTER NOVELIST: EXCLUSIVE
I stared at the headline and the air seemed to still around me. At first I couldn’t work out what on earth the article was talking about, and then my eyes moved down from the words to the headshot of Xander that sat beneath. Somehow his secret was out, and a national newspaper had got hold of the story that Xander Stone was Ruby Bell. But how had they found out? I hadn’t told a soul, even though I’d desperately wanted to. I’d promised Xander that I wouldn’t breathe a word and I hadn’t. I thought of the manuscript he’d emailed me that was sitting on my laptop still unread, mostly because I’d been so distracted by the manuscript’s author. But my laptop was locked and password-protected. Nobody would have looked at it… would they?
“I trusted you,” he said, his voice cold and hard.
“You seriously think that I would do this?” I asked him, incredulous.
“Who the hell else was it, then?” His voice was louder now and I hoped Colin wasn’t listening at the door. “Who else would have gone running to the press? You are the only person I’ve told recently.”
“Oh, there’s lots of people who could have done this…” I began.
“Don’t make it worse, Megan,” he said, folding the paper up again as though he couldn’t bear to see the headline any longer. “I told you in confidence, and you broke that confidence.” I thought about the night before, his body wrapped around mine. How could he possibly think I could betray his secrets after all we’d shared? “I thought we had something… something…” he went on. “I thought we were… My God, Megan.” He stared at me, his anger palpable. “How could you?”
I stared back at him for a moment and I felt a ball of rage rise up in my throat, its taste so bitter I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I was furious that he could think I would do this to him and furious with myself for trusting him, for letting him in, for spending the night with him.
“How dare you,” I said eventually into the silence. “After everything we’ve talked about, after last night…” I paused for a moment, taking a breath. “How dare you come into my shop, my home and accuse me of this.”
“Who else could it be?” he repeated.
“Anyone,” I snapped at him. “And you know it. You think this is some big secret that only you and the chosen few know about; but come on, Xander, you know what publishing is like. Lots of people will know. Creating a book isn’t a solo act you know – it’s not all about you. There are huge numbers of unsung heroes behind every single paperback and it would only take one of them to be fired or disgruntled, and bingo – the secret’s out.”
He stared at me as though this hadn’t even crossed his mind. Had he really thought that I could do this to him?
Something about him changed then and he suddenly looked exhausted. “I can’t trust you,” he said, putting the folded newspaper down on the desk. “I can’t trust anyone.” He turned away from me, towards the door.
“We’re still talking,” I snapped. “Do not walk away.”
He turned back towards me, his hand still on the door handle.
“What else is there to say?” he asked.
“This isn’t about me, is it?” I said, trying to keep my voice calm even though I didn’t feel calm at all. “You don’t really think I could do that, do you?” I pointed at the newspaper.
Xander shrugged, not meeting my eye. He looked as though he’d completely run out of steam.
“This is the part of the romance novel that you hate,” I went on, remembering what he’d said to me on that first night when he’d arrived unexpectedly at the bookshop. “This is the bit where the couple have a ridiculous misunderstanding and an enormous row that isn’t really about what they think it’s about.”
“All I want to know is why you told the papers?” he persisted.
“I can’t answer that because it wasn’t me and you know that – you must do. This isn’t about your secret being spilled, this is about us, about last night.” I paused, feeling frustrated and angry. “For some reason you’re scared and I need you to tell me why.” I thought it would be me who got scared, me who pulled away. I’d assumed Xander was the stronger one of us, but why should he be? He’d been through so much over the last few years too, he’d hidden himself away and refused to acknowledge it just as I had, so it made sense that he’d find our burgeoning relationship difficult as well. Admittedly I wouldn’t storm into someone’s place of work and accuse them of things they hadn’t done but I already knew he was reactionary; he’d already admitted that. When he wasn’t caught up in his own emotions he could be quite self-aware.
“I’m not scared,” he said firmly and unconvincingly. “I’m bloody furious. How could this have happened?”
I remembered then how he’d told me he liked to control things, that he didn’t do vulnerable very well. After last night he must be feeling vulnerable. I knew I was. It was natural after spending so long alone. I just wanted him to admit it.
“Xander…” I began, stepping towards him.
He shook his head. “I can’t do this,” he said.
When he turned back towards the door again I let him go.
*
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” my mother asked for what felt like the fifteenth time.
“No, Mum, I haven’t told a soul; stop asking me. Don’t you think if I was going to tell anyone you’d have been the first to know? I don’t know how it got in the paper. Does it really sound like something I would do?”
“Nobody’s accusing you of telling the paper,” Dad said from the armchair opposite.
“Xander is,” I reminded him. Had he even been listening?
“Oh yes, well, apart from him nobody is accusing you.”
We were sitting in the living room in the flat above the shop – Mum had taken me up there when she’d come down and Colin had told her what was going on. Dad had joined us after tea in mismatched mugs – the Great British solution to any crisis, even if in this house we tended to use teabags. And this must have been one hell of a crisis as Missy was helping on the shop floor, something she always refused to do. She hadn’t asked any questions – just stared at the newspaper headline in disbelief.
“We’re just checking you didn’t inadvertently tell anyone who may have spoken to the paper,” Dad went on.
“No,” I said again. “I did not tell anyone else. How many times?”
“Xander Stone is Ruby Bell, though,” Mum said. “That is a surprise, especially when he’s so disparaging of romance novels.” She turned to me. “Was that a cover?”
“Sort of,” I replied. Despite Xander’s accusations, I still wasn’t going to betray any of his secrets and tell my parents about him writing the books with his mother and that he avoided romance novels to stop himself thinking about her too much. Not that avoidance ever worked – I’d avoided all kinds of things in an attempt to stop myself thinking about Joe over the years but I’d still thought about him every day. And as I thought about him again now, sat in the living room with Mum and Dad – the newspaper headline spread between us – I got that familiar sinking feeling. Joe was never coming back; he’d never hold my hand or kiss me again. He’d never be there to help me. I was on my own now.
“I finally allow myself to have feelings for someone who isn’t Joe,” I said, “and then this happens.”
“I know, love.” Mum pulled me into a cuddle. “But this is just a silly misunderstanding that you and Xander need to sort out. You just need to give him time to calm down. Seeing this newspaper headline will have been a huge shock to him.”
“Who would have told the press though?” I asked. “I tried to placate him by telling him it could be anyone in the publishing industry, that loads of people would have known, but he wasn’t buying it.” I wasn’t sure if I bought it myself.
And then I remembered the footstep in the hallway that I thought I’d heard on the morning that Xander told me his secret. I’d convinced myself I’d just imagined it, on edge at the thought of Xander kissing me for the first time. But now I was sure it must have been someone.
“Was it you?” Mum said, looking scornfully at my father.
“Of course it wasn’t me,” he replied, sitting up and looking affronted. “Why on earth would it be me?”
“Well, you’re in those publishing circles,” Mum said.
“Trust me, I had no idea that Xander Stone was Ruby Bell.”
Mum was about to say something else when Missy came rushing in. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “But the shop is really busy and Colin has disappeared and I really have no idea what I’m doing. Can someone help?”
“We’ll both go down,” Mum said. “Come on, Walter.” She patted Missy’s shoulder. “Thanks for your help. Why don’t you stay up here with Megan for a while?”
“How are you feeling?” Missy asked as Mum and Dad headed downstairs.
“Awful,” I replied.
“More tea?” she asked, clearing up the empty mugs.
I shook my head. “I slept with him last night.”
“What?” she said, almost dropping the mugs in her surprise.
“You heard,” I said as she put the mugs back on the table and sat down next to me.
“You slept with Xander?”
I nodded.
“Here? After book group?”
I nodded again. How many more inane questions was she going to ask?
“Wow,” she said. “Well… That’s a good thing though, right?”
“I thought it was, until he accused me of selling his secrets to the press.”
Missy had clearly run out of questions.
“How dare he speak to me like that. How dare he think I’d go to the papers. I can’t even…” I could feel myself starting to cry again. Xander Stone was not worth this.
“I hadn’t really realised you were this serious about him,” Missy said.
“He’s the first person I’ve liked, the first person I’ve even trusted since Joe. He seemed to get me; he’d been through similar stuff. I thought…” I shook my head. “Urgh, I should have known better than to think anything.”
“This whole argument,” she said slowly. “It wasn’t really about the newspaper headline, was it?”
“No, I don’t think so. If he feels anything like I do then he’ll be feeling tired and a bit vulnerable after last night. It’s not that I didn’t want it to happen, it’s just a big step. For both of us.”
Missy squeezed my shoulder. “And neither of you are used to having to deal with stuff like this.”
“It kind of makes me not want to bother. It feels easier to just go back into hibernation.”
“Totally understandable. This is the first time you’ve opened yourself up and allowed yourself to trust someone since Joe died. It’s scary and raw and when something goes wrong it’s tempting to just disappear back into your foxhole.”
“What else is there to do?”
“Not disappear into your foxhole.”
I thought about that for a moment. It had felt good to be doing something new, getting to know someone new. And those good feelings weren’t all to do with Xander’s cheekbones or his kisses or how good his hard, muscular body had felt in my bed. I’d started to feel more like me again – the me I’d been before Joe first got sick. I’d even kickstarted my career – although I’d have to work that out on my own now. I would hardly be flavour of the month with Philomena Bloom after this.
“The fact is,” Missy went on, “you didn’t tell anyone about Xander being Ruby Bell – although I have to say I’m wounded you didn’t confide in me…”
“Trust me, I was soooo tempted!”
“But you didn’t – you didn’t tell anyone. You kept your side of the bargain and if Xander can’t see that when he calms down then… well… he doesn’t deserve you.”
I thought about Graydon Hall, about sitting in the bar with Xander after our long snowy walk home when I’d asked him what would happen if I met the right person before I was ready.
If that person is even remotely worthy of you, Megan, then they’ll wait until you’re ready.
But what if that person wasn’t ready either? What if we’d both rushed into this too quickly? This wasn’t the first time Xander had reacted like this and I wondered again if this was something that he’d started doing after his mum died. I’d learned over the last three years that I can’t control anything but my own reactions to things, but God knows I’d tried, in an attempt to never feel pain again. Was that what Xander was doing? Did he hold himself so tightly that sometimes he snapped?
Was he the one who wasn’t ready for what was happening between us?
“Somebody went to the papers,” I said to Missy. “I wonder who it was?”
“Who else knew?” Missy asked.
“His agent, of course, but contrary to appearances he says that she is able to keep a secret. His family know and his ex-wife. I imagine a lot more people at his publishers know than he realises though. It was almost impossible to keep secrets when I was at Rogers & Hudson.”
I was about to tell her about the footsteps I’d heard in the hallway on the morning Xander told me about Ruby Bell, when I heard footsteps in the hallway again. This time they were my mother’s. She sounded angry.
“Martha, for God’s sake, come back,” my father called after her as he followed her towards the kitchen.
“It’s very clear you don’t need me,” Mum replied. “You’ve made all these decisions without me.”
“I haven’t—”
“You’re about to sell my home from under me without any warning,” Mum shouted.
Missy stared at me. “Has he found a buyer?” she asked in a whisper.
I stared back at her. “Not to my knowledge.”
“I’m not selling your home from under you,” Dad said, trying to keep his voice quiet. “I’ve come back for you, like I promised I would.”
“And what about Megan?” Mum asked.
I stood up then and walked out of the living room and towards the kitchen.
“Yes,” I said. “What about Megan?”