“This is my first one,” I lied, throwing the paper towels away. Leah began to bounce up and down beside me with presumed elation.
“I’m just. So. PROUD!” Leah suddenly hugged me, rocking me from side to side, like we were in the middle school bathroom after hearing a rumor that a crush had asked about us. Not that I’d had an experience like that, but I surmise that’s what happened when one was in the seventh grade and actually had friends at school.
Pulling back, Leah held onto my shoulders. “Welcome.”
I darted my eyes from side to side, then back to Leah, my confusion stymieing my embarrassment for a moment. “To where?”
“To the romance book club sisterhood.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Women who read romance? And I’m not talking your grocery store bodice ripper, five-dollar types, though I’m not opposed to a good bodice ripping. I mean all genres of romance. Open-door, closed-door, morally gray, fantasy, rom-com. I’m here for all of it. But I didn’t knowyouwould be!”
She started to dance what looked to be a mix between the running man and cabbage patch. Noticing my wary expression, she stopped. “Unless . . . you’re really telling me the truth?Isthis your first one?” Leah almost sounded disappointed.
I glanced over my shoulder, making sure we were alone. “Of course it’s not my first one,” I whispered. “But I don’ttalkto anyone about it!”
This had Leah dancing around me all over again. “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit! This is the best surprise ever. I never knew you liked reading romance, like the rest of us enlightened ones. There’s so few of us.” She said that last part to herself, solemnly, then held out her hand to me.
“Alright, let me see it.”
“What?”
“Your Kindle library. And Audible library. Are you a Kobo girl? Google Play? Oh! Do you Hoopla! Or Libby? Our library is getting really good, we have an in with one of the librarians.” Leah clapped her hands again. “I’ve been reading romance for years! When did you start? I can’t wait to talk about it with you!”
Leah was talking so fast, like she usually did when she got excited, that it took me a minute to process. “I’ve been reading romance since I was pregnant with Ryla. There was aTwilightmarathon on TV, and I couldn’t sleep. I was curious what all the fuss was about.”
Leah nodded, her tone becoming reverent. “Twilight. It paved the way for so many of us.” She tilted her head to the side, her expression turning sad. “Have you really never talked to anyone about what you read? Talking about books is half the fun of reading.”
I opened my mouth, but she cut me off before I could answer.
“Forget I asked that, stupid question. Of course you haven’t told anyone. Not that I don’t understand. We’re conditioned to think that reading romance is shameful and dirty and just for us lonely mommas,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
While her comment stung a bit, she wasn’t wrong. It’s why I hadn’t told anyone about reading romance. The appearance of impropriety was something I’d been strictly programmed to protect against. And not only that, I feared no one would take me seriously if they knew I read romance. It became a dirty secret; or at least, a secret part of me I didn’t share with anyone.
But this was Leah, my best friend, and although it was hard for me to trust anyone, I trusted her. Sighing, I pulled up my Kindle app and handed her my phone.
“Have at it.”
Exclaiming gleefully, Leah plopped herself down on a stool as I finished slicing the last of the strawberries. Leah was smiling and talking quietly to herself as she scrolled through my collection. “You have such a great taste in books! You’ll have to send me screenshots of your library.”
Leah put down my phone and went to the stove, turning on the burner to let the water boil before she spoke again.
“You should come to my book club. We try to get together once a month. Now that I know that you read the same stuff, you’d be the perfect addition.”
Apprehension coiled its way around my body. I knew I’d regret talking about this. The thought of talking to women I’ve never met before, and about romance novels no less, made my palms sweat.
At my silence, she asked. “What’s going on in that brilliant brain of yours?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never been great at making girlfriends.”
Leah scowled. “I blame your daddy and the lack of sleepovers. But what about friends in college?”
For some reason, my reply was hesitant, trusting Leah . . . but still finding it hard to tell her the truth.
“I didn’t have many.”Any.“I was in a single dorm room and studying took up most of my time so I could graduate in three years. I rarely went to parties.”Never.“Then in medical school, I met David. Any friends I made after that wereourfriends, never mine. And he kept them all in the divorce.”Not that they really knew the real me.
Giving me a determined look, Leah crossed her arms. “Alright. Our next book club is next week, Saturday, and you’re coming.”
