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Without a moment’s hesitation, I call Sophie.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I’M NOT SORRY
ELOISE
I’m leavingCherry Cove tomorrow. My bags are packed and stacked inside my trunk. I don’t know where I’m headed but I’m not afraid to not belong anywhere anymore.
But today, we’re celebrating Labor Day at the bookstore, with authors signing and poets reading. It’s busier in here than it’s been all summer, thanks to the event Sophie had been working on in secret. I stare at my sisters as they help customers excitedly; Sophie in charge and Kitty answering questions at the register.
They’ll be good for this place.
One of the signing authors enters the store and comes straight up to me, her hazel eyes smiling even though she’s running late.
“I’m so sorry. We got a little lost,” Denise says before pulling me in for a hug. I’ve followed her career for over a year now and I’m so glad Sophie kept her in mind for this event.
She’s fragility and femininity in my arms, and I envy her ability to wear the fire in her eyes that’s as bright as her red hair as she pulls away.
Soft words and wide, open eyes indicate an inquisitive nature and her lips form a smile before she’s even said a word.
She’s fire and I’m ice.
“This is such a beautiful shop,” she says, her voice too sing-songy for my taste.
I detect a deep Boston accent as I nod and glance around, proud of my work. “We’re honored to have you,” I tell her, and we are.
Her debut poetry book was one of the first I’d ever tried. And her social media presence is minimal, but she is still able to post here and there, beautiful pictures of her blended family, and have the adoration of the masses.
“As soon as I heard about this place, I had to see it for myself.” She smiles again, like she can’t help it. Then, she turns to ask the man struggling with boxes of books behind her, “Gavin, do you need a hand?”
And, as if to answer the question, he looks down at her pregnant belly that she rubs as if it’s a mindless habit. Like she’s reminding herself that her baby is in there. “No, my dear. I think I can manage.”
I help them get settled in and watch the bustle of the store, wondering what our parents would think if they could see us now.
Pride fills me as I stand in the center of the room, watching as it fills. And when Kitty walks up to me, I let her hug me, still reeling from the hug I’d given Denise. It’s hard to not be a hugger around so many affectionate people. But since I’m leaving tomorrow, I don’t fight it.
“I hope you’re feeling better,” she starts, and I notice her stare from my peripheral. One I don’t want to face. I don’t feel shame at my previous display of emotions, only that I’d worried my younger sister in the process.
“I’m great,” I tell her, still basking in the busyness of the store. I can’t remember the last time this place was so packed.
“I…have a confession to make,” Kitty starts, and I finally look at her. All three of us Bordeaux sisters have our mother’s eyes, and seeing them stare at me, so full of hope, I soften a little. When I glance past her, I lock eyes with Sophie who sends me a nod and a smile.
What are they hiding?
“What’d you do?” I ask, worry gnawing at me.
Before she can answer, I notice darkness looming just outside my line of vision in the form of the man I’ve been trying to forget.
I whisper his name before I can help myself.
“Ezra.”
And it’s like a call to him because he walks toward me, through the crowd like their bodies are less than solid.
“Eloise,” he says, and it takes me to a place I can’t be in.
To a temple bricked with lust and hope, cemented with desire and affection.
