Page 33 of Art of Love

You came to town with stories stitched,

A smile rehearsed, the truth bewitched.

But every secret that you keep

builds a wall too high, a silence too deep.

She’s a midnight flame in a world gone cold,

Slipping through fingers I thought could hold.

Every kiss burns, every glance deceives,

But I chase her still, ’cause I need to believe.

Oh, mystery woman, don’t disappear,

Tell me your truth or whisper your fear.

She’s a midnight flame in a world gone cold,

Slipping through fingers I thought could hold.

Every kiss burns, every glance deceives,

But I chase her still, ’cause I need to believe.

Oh, mystery woman, don’t disappear,

Tell me your truth or whisper your fear.

When he finally looked up, the sun had fully broken over the hills and trees, spilling molten gold across the waves of the Pacific. He closed the notebook and leaned back with a sigh, playing his new song, her song, one last time from memory. He let the song echo in his chest as he watched the world wake in front of him.

He didn’t know what to do with it yet. But it was hers. All of it.

He made his way down from the lighthouse and cleaned up, then grabbed a hot mug of coffee. He drove into town to clear his head. He wasn’t planning to stop at the bookstore but figured he’d browse the new releases for something exciting to read later that evening.

The bell over the door chimed, and the scent of aged paper and cinnamon hit him like a memory. How many days had he spent in the bookstore his mother had worked in most of her life? Too many to remember.

She’d been the reason he lost himself in pages. The reason it was so easy for him to twist words into songs. She’d never known how successful he had become, having died a year before Kara had.

While Kara’s death haunted him with all the unanswered questions, his mother’s hadn’t been so complicated. Heart failure due to the medications she’d been on all her life while she’d waited for a transplant. Death had been a known possibility. She should have never had him. His birth had weakened the already frail body she’d been born with.

Still, they had been lucky to have as much time together as they had, and he was so thankful for every moment he’d had with such an amazing soul.

When he stepped inside the book store now, his eyes took a few seconds to focus in the darker room.

And then he saw her.

Dylan was sitting in the corner booth by the café section, laughing. Her long hair lay across her shoulders in two braids, and her sunglasses sat on top of her head as if she’d pushed them up and had forgotten them.

She had on a white and blue striped shirt with white shorts that showcased her long, tan legs, and his heart skipped several beats. She looked like a sun goddess. Tan. Toned. Happy.

Then he noticed that she was sitting with Nate Elliott, Juliette’s brother. He’d met the man at Max and Juliette’s rehearsal dinner.

He seemed like a good guy, but Abe wanted to march over there and… Well, the way that Nate was currently looking at Dylan, like he had all the time in the world and never wanted to leave, made his primordial instincts kick in. The man’s sandy hair was tousled just enough to look styled, and he was smiling at Dylan like she was dessert.

Abe stood frozen in the doorway, debating what to do. Then someone entered behind him and he was forced to move inside. Without thinking, he moved towards a magazine rack and hid behind it and pretended to browse while he spied on the couple.