Page 99 of The Lonely Hearts Book Club

“Don’t—” I pleaded, but it was too late. Already, his words were starting to reach me as if from the end of a long tunnel.

If I’d had the capacity to run away, I’d have done it in a heartbeat. I wanted to throw my hands over my ears, dig my head in the sand, turn the proverbial blind eye. But I’d given Mateo the truth without any varnish, and he was determined to take his revenge.

“Unless I’m very much mistaken, your friend Nigel isn’t doing well.”

“What are you talking about?” I croaked. “He’s fine.”

Mateo shook his head, his expression so somber it was like looking in a mirror. “I don’t think he came all this way to chat about books and rile you up about the past, Arthur. I think he’s here to say goodbye.”

A soft cough sounded from behind me, and that was when I knew I was in real trouble. Not because Nigel was a nosy, eavesdropping bastard, but because he didn’t offer a word in protest. Healwayshad words in protest. It was his stock in trade.

“That’s not how I’d have broken the news, but it’ll have to do. He was always going to find out one way or another.”

“Nigel.” With a struggle, I lifted my gaze to his. I saw it then, the hand of death pressing his shoulder, the resignation in a pair of eyes that had once looked on me with kindness and—yes—even friendship. “Tell him it isn’t true. Tell him you’re only here to make my life miserable.”

“It’s very much the truth,” he said with a sad smile. “But if you still want me to make your life miserable, all you have to do is say the word. I’m amenable if you are.”

I didn’t say the word—not that word or any other. Iwantedto, but I couldn’t. As my head spun and my knees started to give way, I once again felt the world close in around me.

And this time, Lord help me, I let it.

SLOANE

33

“You’re going to love the place I found for us in Cambridge.” Brett turned the screen of his laptop to face me. “Look. It has built-in bookcases on either side of the fireplace. One for your stuff, and one for mine. According to this website, it’s only a few blocks from the place where Henry Wadsworth Longfellow used to live.”

I glanced up from where I sat quietly scrolling through my own laptop. Like Brett, I was researching places to land in the Boston area—only instead of homes, I was looking at libraries. Twenty-four separate branches, and that wasn’t even including the collegiate ones. There were so many employment openings that I got dizzy just looking at them all.

“You researching fireside poets for me?” I asked, oddly touched.

He ignored this and cast a sweeping look around my apartment. We rarely spent time here together, since he vastly preferred his own clean, uncluttered condo downtown, but my place was closer to Arthur’s. I needed the quick access.

“You’ll have to seriously pare down your books before we start boxing things up, though,” Brett said. “Or better yet—I’ll buy you an e-reader. If we start converting everything to digital now, we might be able to just toss the whole collection out.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You want to throw all my books away?”

He laughed in a way that felt like a personal attack. “We can donate them to the library if that makes you feel better. Or we can have my sisters come in and do it. Didn’t you say you had to sneak some of Arthur McLachlan’s books out when he wasn’t looking or he’d have never parted with them? Just think of me as your own personal librarian.”

“That’s different,” I protested, but I don’t think he heard me. His attention was already back on his computer.

“Actually, if we go fully digital, we might even be able to skip the bookcase apartment and get this one with a river view. It’s really nice. I’m going to email the guy and see if it’s still available.”

He started typing happily away, so intent on his task that he almost—almost—forgot I was there. Right before he pushed Send, he remembered to glance up and smile at me. “You don’t mind, do you? This one’s a lot closer to my work. We could sell your car and just take the Tesla.”

What else could I say? He was so boyish and full of plans, fully in his element as he clicked all the pieces of our future into place.

“That sounds—”

My phone buzzed before I could finish what I was going to say. I glanced down at the screen to find that it was from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Yes, hello.” The voice on the other end was terse but professional. “Is this Sloane Parker?”

“Um. Yes. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m calling from Kootenai Health. You’re listed as the emergency contact for a man named Arthur McLachlan.”

My heart jumped to my throat, and I almost dropped the phone in my haste to keep it in my slick-palmed grip. “I am? What’s wrong? When did he put me on his form? What does he need?”