Page 8 of Secrets That Bind Us

Verity

Present day

“Well, what do you think?” Zoey asks– but it sounds like ‘wudayathank ’ stretching out her arms in front of the corner shop with a twirl.

It is not magnificent, nor is it luxurious.

The shop is just two doors down from old Mrs. Townsend’s boutique, which I’ve just learned her daughter, Meredith, is running now.

The times have changed, but not completely.

I sigh, gripping the cup of coffee I made at the hotel before meeting her here.

The heat is already rising, but all of my shit is still packed away, and well– I didn’t have time to stop for an iced coffee twenty minutes away.

Gotta love small towns. I take a sip of the coffee in my cup that may as well be motor oil and purse my lips.

Honestly, I’ve had worse. I just really miss my Keurig.

The building itself has good bones– white stone brick walls, a faded green awning, and large storefront windows.

I bend, peeking inside the old place that used to be a café.

“Zo, I don’t even know if I’ll stick around.

My life isn’t here anymore.” The words feel weird in my mouth.

I don’t want to admit it, but the last three weeks have felt…

oddly… right. Even though we’ve been staying in the hotel, they broke ground on the pool the day after contractors were stomping in and out of my mother’s home.

The more we’ve roamed around town, the more nostalgic I’ve gotten…

the more I can see my kids growing up here, making their own memories, leaving their own footprints over mine.

“Even if you leave, you could always keep it running from afar.” She says hopefully, her eyes shining as a gentle summer breeze blows her teal locks away from her face.

I’ve always been jealous of her curls. Sure, my hair has lazy waves, but her natural tight curls are beautiful. Crazy. Familiar.They’re my favorite.

We hear a car door slam shut, then the sound of heels on the concrete sidewalk. We both turn to see Emory Santos, in a hot pink pantsuit- Tiffany Myers’ old bestie.

Just fucking great.

Her gait is still the same. Her brown hair still flows in a straight waterfall, sleek and brilliant in the early June sun.

In a way, the cliché of an old Queen Bee becoming a small-town real estate agent is almost too good.

Just more fodder for my upcoming book, if I can have enough time to sit down and start typing again.

“Good morning, ladies.” She smiles in greeting– that same killer megawatt smile, except her brown eyes crinkle at the sides now.

“Morning.” Zoey and I grumble.

Emory shoves a key into the lock and opens the door, stepping inside to turn on the lights.

The bulbs reflect in the deep brown hardwood flooring as we follow behind her, stepping inside to yet another place full of distant memories.

Memories of Zoey and me gossiping, doing our homework by the windows where an oversized burnt orange sofa used to be.

We thought we were so grown up, drinking coffee in funky ceramic mugs.

Like we belonged on the set of Friends .

I smile at the memory.

“As you can see,” Emory walks the wide, open space, flips on the lights, then leans against the long counter where we used to gaze up at the chalkboard menu, trying a new item every week. “Some renovations would be required.”

Zoey nods and lets out a dreamy sigh. “Look at it, Ver. Put in some shelves along the walls-“

“A reading nook along the left wall…” I shake my head. “It’s too small. To have the café, create a section for book club events and bookshelves… It’s too small, Zo.”

Emory’s eyes shine. “The space next door is available.”

Oh, she’s seeing dollar bills.

“Can we see it?” Zoey asks, before I can get any further in my reasoning for not doing this. I don’t need another reason to stay longer in Adelaide than I promised the kids.

Emory leads us, opens the door to the old restaurant where we’d have dinner on Friday nights when it was empty because everyone else was at football games.

But it’s special to me for a different matter altogether.

Before thoughts of blue eyes and freckles can take me away again, Zoey gasps. “Oh, Verity!”

I will say– her excitement is contagious.But that’s always gotten me in trouble.

She starts, “If you knock down the wall… keep the counter from The Olde Café-“

“Rip out this counter, the booths,” that feels like a crime, “put in new flooring, tint the windows… I like the light fixtures. Those could stay.”

“The patio is also available for outdoor seating.” Emory states.

Zoey clasps her hands together and brings them to her chin, visions dancing in her head.

I know she’s imagining it the same way I am– the way we’ve always talked about.

A canopy garden with patio furniture and maybe a bar.

To open after hours. Small, elegant. Quiet .

A place for adults to hang out without the kids. To read or schmooze. Two drink maximum.

“Zo-“ I groan, trying to taper down the excitement. But Zoey sniffles. “This is more than six months’ worth of work.”

“So then stay for twelve.” She’s trying to keep her smile on, but it’s slowly falling. I love her. But I never loved this town.

“Zoey-“ I really wish she would stop discussing things in front of Emory.

“You’re a multimillion-dollar, award-winning author, Ver.

Every single person in this town has read at least one of your books.

You’re a darling here. You could have Eli schedule book signings here instead of Dallas, Fort Worth, or Waco.

You could help the tourist economy-“ her voice breaks, and she sheds one tear that wrecks me.

“I just got my best friend back, stop trying to leave me so soon again. This can work. It will work.”

I look up at the rustic open ceiling, imagining a loft for kids to read while parents shop. I exhale, blowing out a frustrated groan. “Dammit, Zoey. If this fails-“

“It won’t .” She says sternly, her belief in me always so unwavering it shatters my resolve.

I look at Emory, who’s grinning at us like a cat that ate the canary. “The second lot is open as well?”

She nods, not a hair moving out of place.

“Can you draw up the paperwork?”

Zoey squeals, jumping up and down like a teenage girl.

“Certainly. Now, you’d have to go to City Hall for construction permits, but I’m sure Mayor Beaufort is going to just love this idea. The lease can be anywhere from a year to five.”

I shake my head. “No. If I’m going to build, then I want to purchase these two lots.”

“That may not be feasible.” She says.

I scrunch my nose, crossing an arm under my chest, my other hand going up to the gold sunflower pendant on my chest. The designs on the front withered with how much I’ve fiddled with it over the years.

My eyes bounce over the town square, coming alive as business owners begin opening their doors to welcome in patrons.

I let my hands roll down my sides, smoothing over my pencil skirt, and turn to eye Emory.

“I’ll have to purchase the building, then. ”

Emory gasps, Zoey almost faints, and this time, it’s my turn to grin. “Didn’t you want to open a second location?”

Her entire face goes bright pink. “I don’t know if I can handle-“

“If we go down,” I start.

“Then we go down together.” She finishes matter-of-factly. And then, “I need a fucking drink, holy shit. It’s not even nine in the morning.”

“You’re telling me, Zo. An author opening up a bookstore?”

“We’ll have an entire section dedicated to your books.”

“Absolutely not. That’s so… pretentious and vain.”

She cackles. “You just offered to buy a whole ass building, Verity. I think pretentiousness is out the window.”

I cringe.

“Actually,” Emory chuckles sheepishly and reaches into her briefcase, pulling out a very worn copy of Tethered , and then an equally weathered copy of Broken , its sequel. One of the first duets I ever wrote– right before marrying Micah. “I was really hoping you’d sign these for me.”

Smiling, I reach into my book for my preferred .5mm black ballpoint pen. “Of course.”

She squeals and then Zoey squeals, and my chest blooms with so many emotions– but mainly… warmth. Like when I’ve just written ‘The End’ and I send a manuscript over to Eli, only for him to call me hours later, praising me.

“If it helps, Verity, I think you’re doing a great thing.

These spaces have been empty almost as long as you’ve been gone…

I think they were waiting for you.” She looks at Zoey as I finish signing my name on Broken .

“And… I’d like to be your first customer in your new shop, Zoey.

I’ve been dying to get-“ She blushes, looking down at the ravens and sunflowers on the cover of the autographed books that are now in her hands.

“A blue-eyed Raven holding a sunflower.”

Zoey nods, in this weird way we both know Emory is extending more than an olive branch. “I designed those covers.”

Emory’s breath hitches. “That’s… kind of really incredible. The both of you, I mean. Your friendship really did surpass the test of time.” She says sadly.

I’m sure there’s a story there.

Zoey eyes her, then me, and we both twist our mouths to the side. “It almost didn’t.” She says honestly.

“What happened, if I can ask.”

Zoey snorts and it makes me laugh. “More like what didn’t happen.”

I sip my coffee. “Let’s just say, saying sorry goes a long way, Em. We’re both stubborn as mules.”

“We can go days or weeks without talking. But when we do pick back up, it’s like we never fell off.”

“It helps that we learned we didn’t revolve around the other a long time ago but are more than happy to stay in each other’s orbits.” I pause. “Also helps that we know too many secrets about the other. It’s so toxic. What if we break up and she decides to spill? Too risky.” I tsk, jokingly.

“Verity.” Zoey warns.