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What if anyone else realizes that Tabs’s hair is the same shade as Gabriella’s? What if they notice that the two women share the same plump lips and sky-blue eyes? And that they both wear glasses?
I clear my throat. “Ruthanne, I think you should read Gabriella’s part.”
My nemesis shakes her head before I’m even done speaking, but Tabs agrees.
“Perfect. Ruthanne is Gabriella and I’m the Duke.” She reaches for the book and her fingers brush against mine. “Everyone turn to page 187. Ruthanne, whenever you’re ready.”
Ruthanne looks like she’s going to argue but then she lets out a resigned nod. “Chapter 23, the Duke’s point of view. Ahem.” She raises the pitch of her voice so that she sounds like a twelve-year-old child and starts to read:
“But, your Grace, I don’t understand. You’re my dearest acquaintance, my most-trusted friend. What you are proposing…”
Now Tabs reads, thankfully in her normal voice:
Gabriella—my dear Gabs—pauses and my blood stands still. I’ve spent four years building the courage to tell her how I feel.
“Four years and two thousand pages!” Sylvie chimes in. “If this love story burned any slower, it could be sold to the temple and used as an eternal flame.”
Tabs looks up at the ceiling. “Agreed.”
I bump her leg and mouth, “What?”
“It’s incredibly frustrating how long it’s taking them to get together. But when they finally, finally get together, I just know it’ll be forever.”
Millie shakes her head. “I don’t disagree. But why on god’s green earth did Abigail Cameron have to take so long to get to the good stuff?”
I stare at Tabs, willing her to answer, but it’s Ruthanne who speaks up.
“Millie, no disrespect, but I think this is the good stuff. All that tension. All the longing. I mean, it seems obvious that the author has lived through unrequited love.”
I focus all my energy on not scowling at her, and look down at my chest. I have the distinct feeling that I’m suddenly the one wearing a corset.
Tabs clears her throat. “Do you all want to keep discussing how slow is too slow for a hero to move, or would you like me to read the hero’s lines?”
I cringe because I, for one, think the Duke is simply respecting the boundaries the heroine has been quite clear about. In this scene, he’s about to risk losing the only person in the world he truly cares about—and that’s not something a man does lightly.
“Go on, dear,” Millie says.
“Gabriella, I pray you know in your heart how much I respect and adore you. My feelings for you come from the purest of places. But,” I hesitate, fearful that my truth might frighten her, “those feelings are no longer pure.”
She claps her hands over her mouth, eyes as wide as the open fields we’ve strolled together since we were children.
I step toward the woman I’ve loved from a torturously close distance for my entire life. “May I have your permission to kiss you?”
“For god’s sake, just kiss her already,” Sylvie barks, breaking the spell Tabitha has created. “She wants you. It’s so obvious. It’s been obvious for the last two books.”
Tabs sighs and looks at me. “I’m sorry. We’re usually much more respectful at the readings.” She scowls at each of the book club members in turn. “I don’t know why everyone is being so…”
“Passionate. We’re being passionate,” Ruthanne says.
“We’re invested,” Millie adds. “There’s something so real about Gabriella and her Duke. Almost like…” she shakes her head. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it almost feels like I know them.”
I feel myself grow pale, but for some reason, Ruthanne comes to my rescue. “It’s just the markings of a talented author.”
Instead of being grateful, I scowl at her. She’s the reason I’m in this situation in the first place.
“I agree.” Tabs worries her lower lip. “It feels like even though they’re imaginary and live two hundred years ago, the author has captured the timeless struggle of a man and a woman?—”
“Or a woman and a woman,” Sylvie interrupts.
