Page 44 of Booked on You
I nod, thumbing through the first few pages without reading them. “Her comeback? Did she quit?”
Bailey leans her hip against the edge of the shelf. “She stopped writing after a very public breakup. Like, she couldn’t write about love anymore, and right now, no one knows if she’ll ever return. Her next release has been delayed until further notice.”
“Wow,” I say.
“I’m obsessed,” she admits. “A lot of people are rooting for her, even if we’re impatient.” She sighs. “What I wouldn’t give to experience that book again for the first time. You’re so lucky.”
This makes me laugh. “I am.”
“Just know,My Everythingcatapulted her from being just a well-known author to becoming an international mainstream sensation. After she saw tons of success, her relationship was picked apart in a very public way.”
I’m also impressed by how much info Bailey knows about Scarlett.
“But yeah. Read the book. But just know, the real story was even more heartbreaking. The main characters may get a happily ever after, but Scarlett didn’t.”
I blink down at the title printed across the cover.My Everything.The title sounds romantic. “This story was based on her and her ex?”
“Yeah, he actually tried to sue her over it, but it didn’t go anywhere. Afterward, she dropped off the map. I wonder where she is now. Hopefully writing the sequel,” she says, quickly rearranging a few books that were out of order.
“Thanks for all the info,” I say, voice low.
“When you’re reading it, just keep an open mind and get some tissues ready,” she says. “Do you need anything else?”
I shake my head, knowing I’ve got five hundred pages to keep me busy. “This sounds like enough for now.”
“Yeah, Scarlett Collins will destroy you in the best possible way.”
“I think you’re right about that,” I mutter as Bailey leads me to the register. She slides the book into a paper bag. “I want to know what you think about it when you’re finished.”
“Sure,” I offer. “I’m sure I’ll be back for more books.”
When I walk outside, I feel the late-summer heat pressing down on me. I glance inside the bag, like the book inside might burn me. I feel like I have a piece of Scarlett I didn’t earn. One she didn’t give me; one I didn’t even know I was looking for.
I walk back to the truck, then drive home in silence, allowing everything I’ve learned to seep in.
Truthfully, it’s changed nothing for me.
I park in my driveway, grab my shit, and walk up the sidewalk toward the house. A breeze kicks through the treetops, stirring the edge of the bushes in front of the house. When I glance in the backyard, I notice the cottage is still dark. When myfeet hit the bottom step, a car pulls into the driveway. It’s not a vehicle I recognize.
I turn and wait for the guy to get out, and then I see an insulated bag in his hand.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
He glances at the receipt. “Yeah, I have a pizza for Scarlett Collins.”
My mouth twitches into a smile. She’s awake. “I’ll take it.”
He hesitates. “I have to take a picture to prove I delivered it.”
“Sure,” I say, holding the pizza. He snaps a photo and gives me a grin. I pull my wallet from my back pocket and slide a twenty out. “Thanks.”
“Thank you, enjoy,” he says, and we part ways.
As I unlock the door, the smell of basil, mozzarella, and garlic wafts upward. I’m tempted to open it and see what kind of pizza a woman like Scarlett orders.
I don’t even make it into the kitchen before the back door swings open, and she appears.
Scarlett is wearing a pink tank top, and it clings to her in all the wrong ways, or the right ones, depending on the direction of my moral compass. She’s braless, and her hair’s messy like she just rolled out of bed.
