Page 53 of Silver Linings

Hendrix comes up to me then, wrapping his arms around my waist, turning me so we’re looking over the banister onto the shop floor. I settle my head back on his shoulder and take in the view from up here, truly appreciating how far the space has come.

How far I’ve come.

“Look at what we built,” I remark.

Hendrix shakes his head. “Look at what you built. This was all you, Silver. Your vision, your determination, your dream. You did this all on your own.” He leans down and places a soft kiss to my neck, the scruff of his beard making goosebumps break out over my skin.

“I’ve also got some designs I want you to look over. ”

“Designs?”

“Yeah, uh…” He’s nervous about something.

“I’ve been working on some pieces for up here, small tables and chairs I could build if you liked them.

You mentioned wanting to turn this floor into a place where people could come read and write, as well as hosting events up here, and I just thought…

” He huffs a breath against the back of my head.

“Of course, if you wanted to thrift some furniture instead, the Brooklyn Flea had some coo–”

I cut him off by twisting in his hold, throwing my arms around his neck and crashing my lips to his. His surprise quickly ebbs as his warm lips move against mine slowly. Kissing him is like feeling that first ray of sun after a week of cold rain. I wanted to revel in this warmth forever.

I reluctantly pull back just an inch, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. I gaze into the eyes that have come to feel like home to me and leap. “I love you.”

And then, I burst into tears.

He holds me through it, whispering words of love and affirmation against my head as I feel every vulnerable emotion under the sun.

Fear, happiness, anxiety, hope, joy—they all feel like the heaviest and lightest weight on my shoulders.

He never eases his grip on me. He tells me I’ll never be alone as long as he lives, that he loves my courage and resilience, that he loves that I can always find a joke in any situation, that I can’t sing for shit, and that doing menial tasks with me feels like an adventure he wants to go on every day.

When I’m finally done crying, he looks me in the eyes. “I love you too, Sunshine.”

And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

Two weeks later…

“You don’t have to read it. You can just throw it away, and no one will blame you.”

Hendrix and I sit on the loveseat upstairs in the bookstore, staring down at the letter my mom left for me. I’ve been looking at the cream envelope for ten minutes already, trying to muster up the courage to open it and see what’s inside.

There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to care, and then there’s a part of me that knows I’ll always wonder if I don’t see what’s inside. It’s the latter that has me reaching for it now.

Hendrix places a steadying hand on my knee to help ease my nerves as I slot the tip of my finger under the corner flap to open the note.

I take a deep breath before pulling the contents of the envelope out. It seems she put a lot of things in here, the first being a save the date to her wedding that I promptly set aside. The next is a handwritten letter. It’s short, to the point, and lacks any sort of familiarity.

Your father and I started a savings account for you when you were born. I continued to pay into it when I could throughout the years after his passing and thought it was time for me to give it to you. Do whatever you want with it. Paul and I hope to see you at the wedding.

Best, Mom

Best.

Not love. Not sincerely. Not even a warm regards. It doesn’t sting the way I think it would have a couple weeks ago.

I reach behind the heartfelt letter for the third and final component to her interruption in my life, pulling out a thin slip of paper—a check to be exact. For fifteen thousand dollars. I drop it like it just caught fire in my hand and burned me.

“Unbelievable,” I mumble.

I look to Hendrix, my steady rock against the crashing waves. He’s been stroking my leg in a soothing motion since I brought him up here to do this, never wavering in his support of whatever I choose.

“Talk to me.”

“She’s trying to bribe me. Her future husband wants me at their wedding, and this is how she thinks she can accomplish that.

If I take her money, I’ll feel obligated to go.

” It’s hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

For as much as I’ve worked through the dynamic between myself and my mom in the last couple weeks, I can’t say I’m fully at peace with it.

I don’t think I ever will be—my new therapist told me it was a perfectly normal reaction to all I had been through. I was still figuring it out.

“It could be helpful after you depleted your reserves,” Hendrix points out. I know he’s right, suggesting it to make sure I weigh all my options.

I reach down to pick the check up off the floor and extend it towards him. “If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He pushes it away from himself like it’s riddled with the bubonic plague.

“I’m serious. You did so much physical labor on this place and deserve to be compensated for it. Let me pay you.” I lean forward to try and shove the check in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Absolutely not.” He grabs my arm, stopping me from forcing the check onto his person as he grabs me by the waist with his other arm, swinging my body over to straddle his, effectively shutting me up.

I wiggle in his lap, eliciting a groan from deep in the back of his throat. To make matters worse—for him—I lean forward to pepper kisses along his obscenely perfect jawline.

When I reach his ear, I lean forward. “Please let me use my mom’s guilt money to pay you.” A delicate bite to his ear has him clenching his teeth.

His firm hands are on my shoulders, pushing me so there’s a respectable amount of space between us. I hate it. I want to burrow under his hoodie and stay there forever. It’s crazy what being happy and in love does to a woman.

I pout, and he appeases me by giving my lips a quick peck before holding me away again.

“I helped you because I wanted to be near you every second of every day. I never had any intention of taking money from you, and I didn’t need help with a portfolio.

I already had an extensive one. So no, I will not be taking the money.

I don’t need it.” He smirks with the arrogance of a man who knows what he’s capable of.

Getting let go from The Langham actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because Hendrix now has all the free time in the world to work on custom builds Kena has been commissioning.

He was so impressed with the design Hendrix turned in a couple weeks ago, he wanted to have his very own hot carpenter on speed dial.

“So, if you don’t take the money… Oh my god. I’m Richard Gere in Pretty Woman, and you’re Julia Roberts. You’re my paid for whore.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, but I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

I lean forward, bringing my face close to his. “Great answer,” I murmur against his mouth before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. The soft kisses have become my favorite—unhurried, tender, and always with the promise of more.

“I think I want to donate the money to the library.”

The look in Hendrix’s eyes is enough to make me melt into the floor. His gaze is intense but gentle, beaming with pride. “I love you.” A soft smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.

I’ll never get tired of hearing it. I have no clue how I’ve made it this far before realizing I needed it, this connection.

I think I was always just waiting for him.

I could have never felt this magnitude of emotion for someone else, an electromagnetic wave so potent and visceral, there would only be one outcome.

Cosmic, kismet, fate, magic—whatever you wanted to call it, it was us, and it was perfect.

“I love you too, Herschel.”

The laugh that bursts from Hendrix’s mouth as he tips his head back is bright and boisterous. It’s the loveliest sound I’ve ever heard, my favorite drug.

He surges forward and kisses me full on the mouth.

All earlier traces of gentleness are gone, replaced with something bordering on feral.

Not that I’m complaining—I’m still straddling his lap, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke, and it’s suddenly feeling too hot on this cozy second floor.

The store has only been open for a few minutes, and we haven’t had any customers stop by yet, so I decide to lean into the recklessness a little longer.

I start to grind down on him, rocking my hips back and forth, drawing a growl from his mouth.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Summer.”

“Hopefully, one of us finishes,” I quip, shoving my fingers into his thick chocolate strands and giving them a rough tug.

I’ve just shoved my hands up under the hem of his hoodie when the bell to the front door dings, alerting me to customers.

I pop up off his lap and look down at the noticeable bulge with a smirk. “Might want to wait a moment before coming downstairs.”

I can hear the newcomers chatting excitedly to each other about a new thriller they’ve been hunting for. I lean down and give my boyfriend one last kiss before I make my way downstairs. This place was the first thing I ever committed to, the first major decision I made for myself that felt right.

It was home.

Halfway down the stairs, I glance back at Hendrix and realize I have two homes now.

I hit the landing and smile at the group of shoppers. “Hey guys! Welcome to Silver Linings Bookshop. Let me know if you need anything.”