The Bookshop of Second Chances Jackie Fraser (ebook reader macos .txt) 📖

someone give you all the things you’ve never had.’

‘Do I? I’m not sure.’

‘Hey.’

He squeezes me and puts his face in my hair. ‘Mm. You always smell great,’ he says, ‘I’ve thought that before.’

We hug for a long time, standing silent in the brightly lit kitchen. Eventually he sighs.

‘You said you were hungry.’

‘I did. I am.’

‘Better get you fed then.’

I’m trying not to feel anxious. It’s hard to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, but I’m trying not to be anxious. That would be silly. After all, we’ve done the difficult bit, which is being naked. It’s a long time since anyone but Chris has seen me naked but at least Edward didn’t run off screaming or anything. And neither did I, which is a bonus.

Is it harder to have actual sex, penetrative sex, with someone than, you know, that other stuff? Only when you’re young, surely. I find myself remembering… all kinds of things. Scenes from my life. The first time I slept with this person or that person, the first time I went into a boy’s bedroom with the intention of… I think of damp and sweaty afternoons, deep in the Christmas holidays of my final year at school, nearly but not quite sixteen, doing things with Andy Bracewell. A good choice, I felt at the time; he was nice, and although he’d been out with Rachel Palmer it seemed they hadn’t got up to much, so it was mostly as new to him as to me. We never had sex, we were much too young and nervous. But we did lots of other stuff. Some of which Edward and I repeated, this afternoon. I think of the way I felt then, and the way I feel now. It’s not dissimilar, really.

We eat our croque madames by candlelight in the kitchen. Holly Hunter has come in, wet from the rain, and crunches biscuits beside us.

‘You know,’ he says, ‘the first time we met – I know this will sound like hindsight, but even then, I thought, I don’t know. I noticed you, when you first came into the shop.’

‘Isn’t it your job to notice everyone?’

‘I don’t though. I ignore them usually.’

‘You ignored me, as I recall.’

‘Faking it,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘I liked it when you leaned on the desk to speak to me. I could tell you were amused. And then when you said who you were, I was amazed. And now I feel like…’

‘Like what?’

‘This will sound stupid,’ he says.

I grin at him, encouraging. ‘Go on?’

He sighs. ‘Well. That Andrew sent you.’

I blink at him. ‘That doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you’d think.’

‘I know, it really isn’t. I know it’s silly. But we were quite good friends. Lots of people don’t like me, but he did. He was similar to you, I think. Or you’re similar to him. I think he’d have expected us to get on. Be pleased, I hope, that we do.’

‘He didn’t know me though,’ I object.

‘I know. It is silly.’

‘It’s very sweet though,’ I say, slightly doubtful.

‘You think I’m an idiot.’

I smile at him. ‘Maybe. But in a nice way.’

He snorts. ‘There’s no need to patronize me.’

‘Whatever you say, boss.’

So then we go to bed. It’s nearly midnight, somehow. We don’t bother to wash up. Edward pushes his chair away from the table and says, ‘I can’t wait any longer, come on.’

It makes me feel dizzy, I suppose. I’m not sure what to say, so I get up as well. He holds out his hand and I put mine in it, and then he leads me out to the landing.

‘It’s upstairs,’ he says.

‘I know. I’ve been in your bedroom,’ I remind him.

‘Have you? When?’ He turns to look at me, startled.

‘You asked me to close your window. I wasn’t snooping,’ I add, although that probably makes me sound guilty.

I follow him up the stairs to the second landing. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if this is odd, the way I feel. I wonder if I even know how I feel. My heart’s banging in my chest; I feel untethered from my normal self.

He pushes open his bedroom door and turns back to look at me. ‘I feel like there’s a lot of pressure about this? Even though we were in bed together earlier?’

‘It has a certain amount of portent,’ I agree, leaning against the doorframe to watch him as he flicks on the light and goes to close the curtains. I think of something. ‘Who’s Corinne?’

He turns back to look at me. ‘Corinne?’

‘You had a card from her. Edward Hopper painting.’

‘Oh, I suppose I did. She’s a friend. Lives in St Andrews.’

‘A friend? Like Lara?’

He laughs. ‘Better than Lara. But I suppose so, yes.’

‘Are you still seeing her?’

‘I don’t think I’d count what Corinne and I do as “seeing each other”.’

‘No? What do you do?’

He roots through the top drawer of the bedside cabinet nearest the window. ‘Do you want candles?’

‘If you have some. I certainly don’t want an overhead light,’ I say, and he laughs.

He holds up a tin. ‘Vanilla, I think.’

‘Perfect. So, Corinne?’

He lights the candle and puts it on the cabinet. ‘Here okay?’

‘I’m sure that’s fine. Are you avoiding my question?’

‘Turn off the light.’

I click the switch and my eyes gradually adjust. ‘Edward?’

‘No, I just hardly ever see her. Maybe once a year, or every eighteen months maybe. We do usually go to bed. But I doubt she’ll be heartbroken that won’t be happening anymore.’

‘It won’t?’

He looks at me, serious. ‘I’m all yours now. Aren’t I?’

‘I don’t know. Are you?’

‘Thea. I don’t know if you’ve missed something here but I’m absolutely crazy about you.’

I grin at him in the dim light. ‘Are you? That’s nice. I mean it sounds so unlikely, but I think I believe you.’

‘You should.’

‘How long before you’re grumpy with me again?’

‘I don’t know. A week?’

This makes me laugh. ‘As long as that?’

‘If you’re lucky. Are you coming in? Or staying in the doorway?’

‘This is the trickiest bit, isn’t