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I sit beside her in the bed and find the passage I’m looking for in the manuscript. I pass my laptop to Tabs, who silently takes it. She reads quietly, scrolling through two or three pages. And hands it back to me without saying a single word.
“That is how I envisioned our first time. That’s why I said it wasn’t right, because I’d built up this whole fantasy of how it would go. But Tabs, the reality was a hundred, a thousand times better than the way I’d pictured it. When I said it was all wrong, what I meant was this,” I poke my monitor, “the draft, my manuscript, was all wrong.”
I wait. Let her process. Thank my lucky stars that she didn’t throw my laptop at the wall or strangle me to death.
“You’re telling me you wanted our first time making love to follow some fan fiction you wrote about imaginary characters from a romance novel?”
“Not exactly. I’m telling you I wrote the Duke and Gabriella’s first time how I imagined ours would be.”
Her reaction is, yet again, not what I expected. She laughs. She laughs so hard her sad tears turn to gleeful tears, and I realize she still doesn’t understand, or perhaps, she doesn’t believe me.
“Fine,” she finally says, “let’s try it your way, Duke.”
Tabs lies on her back with an arm behind her head.
And, because I’m not a Duke—I’m just an idiot who plays one in a romance novel—instead of clarifying and making sure she knows the truth, we make love again. This time slowly, with me making all the moves, in full control, following the scene exactly.
TABITHA
Amelia joins me behind the reference desk and grabs a new release from the book cart. “So are you and Cam still not talking?"
I scowl at my boss. Every day for the last two weeks she’s slid that into conversation, and every day for the last two weeks I’ve replied the same way.
"I am never talking to him again. He is a liar and I should never have trusted him."
"He's not like your father, Tabby. He?—"
Thankfully, a teenager approaches the desk, cutting off Amelia before I throw the withdrawn stamp at her.
She hands the boy a onetime computer use slip and grabs a barcode to stick on the book.
I grab a book from my weeding cart and wait until the kid is out of earshot before I hiss, "This has nothing to do with my father.” I regret telling her about my childhood, but it’s one of the repercussions of being a librarian. When we sit together at the reference desk, the words just flow.
“But you’re acting like Cam betrayed your trust when he?—”
“He kept a huge secret from me for years. If that isn’t a betrayal of trust, then…” I realize I’m raising my voice, and drop it back down to a more appropriate whisper. “I don’t know what is,” I finish. “He knew—he knew how important honesty is to me. We’ve said a thousand times that we were completely honest with one another, but instead…” I groan. “Never mind. I’m over it—or would be if everyone. Just. Stopped. Asking. About. It."
"Tabby,” Amelia takes me by the shoulders and looks me in the eye, “you are not even close to over it. You’ve got to get past this anger, try to make a deal with the devil, and cry before I’ll believe you’re over it. Trust me, I speak from experience.”
I shake my head because I know she’s right. "Amelia, I told him everything. I told him every one of my secrets. There isn't a single thing about me he does not know."
"Even the time you got phished with an email that claimed it had control of your camera and recorded you?—"
"I told him." I groan. "He’s the one who helped me install new antivirus software—because I thought he was a tech support guy. And turns out he’s a billionaire!” I grab a few books off my cart while Amelia pulls out a stack of new barcodes from the drawer. “I thought he was still paying off his apartment, and it turns out he can afford a mansion like Jane and Bryan’s. How is that even real?”
It still hasn’t quite sunk in. I’d been so convinced Cam was writing fan fiction that he had to show me his publishing contract before I believed him. A publishing contract that had so many zeros my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. And if that wasn’t enough to take in, he told me he’s been investing that money in tech startups—so in a way, he is a tech guy—except for one minor detail… apparently his investments paid off. Big time. As in billionaire levels. Turns out the only reason he lives in his tiny apartment is he didn’t know how to tell me.
“It’s like I don’t even know him.” I slam the withdrawn stamp on the book in front of me with a bit more force than necessary. “Cam knows literally everything about me and it turns out I don't know him at all. I thought he was my best friend and now…" I trail off as Sylvie approaches the desk.
I direct my attention away from Amelia. “Sylvie, would you trust a man who lied to you?"
"Hell to the no. I wouldn't trust any man," she says.
I give Amelia a pointed look that says, "Exactly."
“Sylvie, would you trust a person who lied to you?” Amelia asks.
Sylvie puts her hands on her hips and wrinkles her brow. “I’m no expert in relationships, but I do know this much: if Cam Gail lied to you, he had a good reason to. Much as I hate to admit it out loud, that young man is a good one. Now, do you happen to know where I can find that new murder mystery, the one with the red cover?”
