I spend most of the morning at work shelving books, skirting around the edges of the library like I'm some kind of ghost. I'm avoiding eye contact, ducking out of small talk, practically diving behind a cart of returned books when I see Rica heading in my direction.
It's not like she's overly nosy, but I don't trust myself not to unload everything onto her. Rica's good at reading people, and she'd spot the emotional mess I am in under five seconds.
Derek's surprise return, his insistence that he's ready for forever, the spell, everything—I can't even begin to untangle it myself. I definitely can't explain it to her, she'd think I'm nuts. Hell, I think I'm nuts.
Instead, I keep drifting over to the staff desk, peeking inside the lost-and-found box. The notebook isn't there, obviously. I took it home instead of dropping it in like I should have. But I keep expecting some angsty teenager to waltz in and demand it back, like they can feel I've messed with something that wasn't mine to mess with. I don't know what I'm even afraid of—some kind of karmic payback, maybe? Besides, I don't actually believe that the spell has something to do with Derek's sudden change of heart and his uncharacteristic behavior. Or do I?
Finally, after a particularly useless hour of staring at the same section of YA fantasy novels, I catch Rica between stacks. She's leaning over her phone, probably reviewing one of her TikToks - despite how many times Martha asked her not to do that during working hours -, but she looks up when she sees me approach.
"Hey, Rica," I say, trying to keep my voice casual. "Quick question for you."
She perks up, her curiosity immediately piqued. "Sure, what's up?"
I shift, suddenly feeling stupid. "Has anyone come by or called in recently… looking for a notebook?"
Her brows knit together. "A notebook?" She glances in the direction of the counter where the lost-and-found box is, then back at me. "Like a diary or something?"
"Yeah, kind of. It's got… doodles in it. Maybe some writing. Just curious if a student came by yesterday after I went home. Or maybe this morning?"
Rica cocks her head, frowning slightly. "Not that I know of, but I can double-check with Martha. Someone would've probably left a message if they were desperate to get it back."
I swallow, nodding. "That's fine. I just… I don't know. It seemed like the sort of thing someone might want back, you know?"
Her expression shifts, her curiosity now fully focused on me. "What's so special about that notebook?" she asks, tone playful but probing. "You're acting a little weird, Skye."
I force a laugh, probably too high-pitched to be convincing. "I just… I took it home by accident, and I guess I feel bad."
Rica's eyes narrow a fraction, a glimmer of suspicion or intrigue flickering there. But then she shrugs.
"Well, if anyone asks, I'll let them know you've got it. But seriously, you know as well as I do that the cheap, easily replaceable stuff just rots in the box for all eternity."
She pauses, then adds, "Maybe whoever left it wanted to dump it in the first place. People usually don't come back for their trash."
The words linger, and though she probably didn't mean anything by them, they strike an uneasy chord in me. Derek dumped me and now apparently wants me back. I'm the trash turned treasure within a few hours.
"People do change their minds sometimes, it's not unheard of," I mutter. "Besides, we can't just assume the owner wanted to get rid of it."
Rica's eyes widen a fraction and she lowers her voice.
"Oh, sure, of course, Skye, sorry."
I must have sounded too defensive which led to her making the awkward connection to the Derek situation, which then triggered this even more awkward bout of pity. Awesome.
"No need to apologize, Rica, I'm okay."
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raise in surprise and disbelief. "That's great," she chirps. Then she touches my arm. I can feel the warmth of her hand through my thin blouse. "You don't have to be though. It's okay to be sad for a while."
Dang, now I feel like a fraud. Should I tell her?
"Actually, Derek and I are kind of..." I don't even know how to put it, so I start over. "He's apologized, he wants me to give him another chance."
"Wait, so the wedding's back on?"
I shrug.That's the million dollar question. Is this real, will it last?
"I don't know."
Rica leans in, her face serious. She gives my arm a light squeeze.
"Babe, can I give you one piece of advice that might be painful to hear?"
I'm pretty sure I know where this is going but I nod anyway.
"Don't do it just because it was on your calendar. It might seem like because you got things planned and there's a date and the venue and stuff, that you're locked in it, but you can still change your mind, okay? You've got people who'll support you."
This is actually touching. I didn't think Rica would be this invested.
"Thanks, that means a lot."
"Women gotta look out for each other," Rica says with the kind of sincerity I'm not used to hearing from her. Then she pats my arm. A few seconds later she's heading back to the front desk.
I stay between the shelves for a while, feeling unsettled and sad, her words replaying in my head. *People usually don't come back for their trash.* At the cake tasting, that's how Derek treated me. Trash might be a strong word, but he did discard me. And what if whoever left that notebook wanted to get rid of it?
*
As soon as work ends, I check my phone and find that Derek has sent me five texts.
*just wanted to tell you I love you!*
*miss you already!*
*can't think about anything but how beautiful you are*
*want me to make us a nice dinner?*
*when are you coming home, babe? miss you so much!*
I frown at the timestamps as I slide my thumb across the screen. A vague unease rises up inside my mind. The messages unsettle me because up until now Derek has always been pretty concise over text. He doesn't write more than he needs to.
When I scroll up, I can see the history of our relationship couched into little bubbles. Mine are always bigger than Derek's. Plus, he never used proper punctuation, so why's he starting now? Is all of this really just a guilty conscience? I want to believe that that's it, I really do.
I sigh as I step out of the library and the crisp air hits me, my ears filling with the familiar noise of the city. The building's lights fade behind me, replaced by the soft, amber glow of the streetlamps lining the quiet street. It's early evening, and the narrow stretch of sidewalk outside is almost empty.
To my left, the old laundromat hums, a few people still inside, folding clothes under buzzing lights or waiting in the cheap plastic chairs, faces lowered to look at the phones cradled in their hands. The neon letters of the "Open 24 Hours" sign flicker, except for the R and S which must have been defunct for more than a year now.
On my right, the florist stands dark, the handwritten sign on the door flipped to "closed". The window displays a wilted assortment of roses and carnations, petals drooping in a way that mirrors the shop's inevitable journey towards bankruptcy.
Further down, the street curves around a small row of brick townhouses, their facades lined with cast-iron railings. The occasional car rolls by, headlights cutting through the dusk, but for the most part, it's quiet here—a pocket of calm tucked away from the rush and glare of the larger streets.
I pause for a moment, taking it in, the muted hum of the city mingling with the faint smell of detergent and the lingering scent of stale flowers.
I text Derek that I'm meeting Kaylee and might be late tonight, to not wait up. He replies instantly.
*you're not coming? baby, come on, you can hang with Kaylee any day!*
Uh, no, I definitely can't. I don't even know how long she's going to be in Chicago. I write him back and a few seconds later get another text.
*I need you, babe, please*
I wrinkle my nose at the bubble on my screen as if it's an unsolicited dick pic. What the hell? When has Derek ever acted like this?
*He's weird, he's not himself*, whispers the little voice in my head. I push the thought away. Maybe he's going through something, maybe whatever happened with that other woman...
*Yeah,* hisses my subconsciousness, always ready with some criticism, *whatever happened with Emily? So how about you actually pull yourself together and ask how far it went and what the fuck it really was! And if he doesn't tell you, maybe go ask her!*
I draw in a deep breath, my stomach clenching. I know I've been trying to pretend everything was okay when it's clearly not.
This new Derek, what if it's him trying to play me? What if the whole time, I was nothing more than his safe bet, the woman who was waiting for him at home, sweet, dependable, unexciting, while he looked for more interesting conquests on the side?
But no, he admitted to the Emily-thing, he even wanted to call off the wedding. None of this makes sense. Derek's never been this emotional and erratic before.
Chewing on my lower lip, I type out another response to him.
*sorry kaylee thing is set in stone. will be back after, turning off my phone now cu*
CU instead of love you, wow, this might be the coldest I've been to him in ages, if not ever. My heart accelerates with the thrill of denying him something he wants. Perhaps I should have been doing this more often.
Idly, I scroll up and reread some of our more recent exchanges. After less than thirty seconds something inside of me shrivels. Had I not noticed how monosyllabic Derek was with me during the last few weeks?
I scroll past a couple of pictures of napkins I sent him, asking for his opinions on place settings and decor.
*looks great*
*whatever you pick'll be fine*
*seriously you got this*
Then a bunch of "yeah"s and "sure"'s that might as well have been "whatever". He'd been checked out and I'd been telling myself that the reason for this was that weddings were "girl stuff". I cringe inwardly at myself.
"Idiot," I whisper and I don't know if I meant to curse Derek or me.
I'm rereading Derek's last message, my eyes glued to my screen, when I collide with something solid. The impact jolts me, and my phone nearly slips from my hand. I jump back, fumbling around with my phone.
"Oh! I'm so sorry—" I blurt, looking up, my cheeks growing hot with embarrassment.
The man I've run into is tall, at least six feet, with broad shoulders that make me feel even smaller in comparison. Dark curls fall slightly over his forehead, and when our eyes meet, I'm struck by the unusual mix of colors in them: mostly brown, but flecked with hazel and hints of green.
His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and I can see a faint dimple on one cheek.
"No harm done," he says, his voice low and pleasant. There's the hint of an accent there, but I can't place it. "I guess I should've watched where I was going too."
His smile widens, somehow both charming and a little mischievous, and I realize I'm still staring. That deer in the headlights look is probably not doing much for me.
I laugh, flustered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "No, really, it's my fault. I was distracted." I can't help but grimace when I think of Derek's texts.
He raises an eyebrow, glancing at my phone.
"Tough day?"
"Something like that," I admit, feeling a little silly. Am I really going to strike up a conversation with a random stranger?
"It's one of those days that feels like a month," I admit.
He nods, hands slipping casually into the pockets of his windbreaker.
"Well, here's hoping the evening gets better." He gives me a look that's both friendly and a little searching like he's wondering if he should dig further. Maybe even flirt?
Wait, am I hoping for that?
I manage a smile, still feeling the slight thrill of embarrassment mixing with a small spark of interest.
"Thanks. And sorry again for nearly flattening you."
He chuckles, the sound causing a ripple of warmth in my belly.
"Flattening me? A tiny thing like you?"
"I'm not that tiny," I protest, but he just grins at me, and I notice that one of his canines sticks out a little.
*Cute,* I think and instantly feel annoyed with myself for it. I have enough on my plate with Derek, who's still the love of my life.
My fiancé, my future.
"That's just what you think," the stranger says and it takes me a split second to remember that he's referring to what I said about not being that tiny and not to my thoughts about Derek being my future.
In that split second, the smile drops off my face and my heart starts beating faster.
The guy winks, unaware of my inner turmoil.
"Maybe I'll see you around some time, eh?"
I can't manage more than a weak nod and as he steps aside to continue down the street, I catch myself watching him, taking in his figure, his shape, until I pull myself together and start moving in the opposite direction.