Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
7
ALL THE RAGE (HATTIE)
Today might be the longest day in the history of the universe.
It’s moving like a sloth, and I’ve been moving like a zombie, shelving books and organizing orders and speaking to the occasional customer who comes in hankering for a new book.
Not that there are many this early in the week.
Sadly, brick and mortar bookstores are a dying breed, which makes my heart ache.
There’s so much wonder with books, so many instant escapes, especially when you can breathe the pages and touch them like pets.
I’ve fallen in love a thousand times by now, traveled to different continents and distant galaxies across time and space.
I’ve lived countless lives, all from the comfort of my couch or sunning myself on the beach.
The power of books is so freaking vast, I’m still mind-blown.
But I guess people are more interested in the instant convenience these days.
Instead of browsing a bookstore, they jump online and order up at the click of a button.
Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with that. Not everybody has tons of shelf space or the money to burn on real pages.
If you find your next bookish true love off a viral TikTok or whenever a curated newsletter hits your Inbox with the latest hits, there’s no shame.
It’s just the old-school process I mourn.
Somewhere along the way forged by tech, we lost the magic that comes from being surrounded by real, live books.
That’s why I love this job so much, even if I wonder why I picked a career that’s about to go the way of video rental stores.
I’m in the back, shelving a big pile of children’s books, when the bell dings. I don my professional, customer-first smile as I head to the front.
Only, it’s not a customer.
“Hattie!” Mom trills my name so loudly my ears hurt.
I wince, wondering if I can get away with closing up early while she’s here. Probably not.
“Hi, Mom.”
She gets distracted from whatever her vendetta is today as soon as she looks at my summer dress. When I threw it on this morning, I thought it was cute, but her frown says otherwise.
“A little top heavy, don’t you think, dear?” She purses her lips. “I know you have great assets—you inherited them from me—but you don’t have to shove them in everyone’s faces.”
Oh my God.
I consider telling her how difficult it is to buy clothes that don’t show at least some cleavage when shopping for a dress my size is always a little unpredictable, but that would be wasted breath.
“I thought it was pretty.” I shrug.
“Well, the design, yes, but… you probably saw it on some Insta model, right? They just carry themselves differently.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to gab about your fashion choices.”
Heading behind the desk, I shake the mouse to wake up the ancient desktop, which whirrs its fan with annoyance.
“Right. Why are you here again?”
She takes a deep breath and leans over the counter, spooling up to drop a bombshell.
“Haven’t I always treated you right? Fed you and clothed you and put a roof over your head?”
Debatable.
But knowing there are worse mothers out there, I just smile and nod.
“And you trust me, Hattie? There’s no daylight between us, right?”
I nod again, this time slower.
“Where are you going with this, Mom?”
“Not where. Why,” she says dramatically. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me you were engaged?”
Crap.
My hand stills.
Automatically, I look at the door, but there’s no escaping this and she has me cornered.
Where do I even start?
“Um, I don’t—”
“And to Ethan Blackthorn.” The way Mom says his name is pure reverence.
Terrifying.
The last thing I need is her idolizing my fake husband.
“Well, look—” My lips won’t work.
I still have nothing. The truth isn’t an option, but to try and claim we’re crazy in love also seems wildly inappropriate.
“Darling!” Arms open wide, she struts around the counter and comes in for a bear hug. The widest smile splits her face.
Honestly, I don’t think she’s ever looked this happy to see me since I was five.
I don’t have a second to react before she’s squeezing me so tight I can’t breathe.
Go ahead and laugh.
Until now, I never had a plan for dealing with Mom.
Obviously, she was going to find out I’m getting married sooner or later—it’s not the kind of thing you can keep from her forever. Especially when there’s a billionaire with princely looks and the personality of a poison toad involved.
So, logically, having her find out without having to sit her down and tell her should be a good thing.
It might be, if every muscle in my body would stop locking up as she sways me happily side to side.
“How did you find out?” I whisper.
“It’s everywhere, honey,” she gushes, finally pulling away and dismissing my shock at the news. “I can’t remember where I read it. At least three different articles online this morning. Some big charity thing? You couldn’t tell me about that either?”