“Hmm… I love when I’ve been trying to work out a problem—how to handle a scene with a certain character, or what needs to happen next in the plot—and I have that moment, that flash of ‘that’s it!’when I know I’ve figured it out.”
Oliver nodded.There was more that she loved, and he was clearly giving her space to keep going—so she did.
“I love when I think a story is finished and then days, or weeks—sometimes even a year later—I see something new.And it might be little or big, but it’s some new way of understanding what should happen, like the clouds have rolled away and I’m seeing everything more clearly than before.”
She’d been looking away, formulating her thoughts, but she looked back and saw he was still listening.She hazarded one more example.
“And I love when I’m first working out an idea, just letting it work its way through my brain while I’m on a walk, just sitting with a cup of tea, or listening to music.That patience, that waiting—slowly finding the pieces and putting them together.”
Earlier in the day, she’d started to get that feeling as she’d worked out ideas for Vronsky.It was just a bit of fun, but it had been exactly like that—as though something bigger was coming and she was just laying the groundwork, getting her mind ready as it gathered up the pieces.
She felt a little shy after sharing, so she spoke up before Oliver could ask her more.
“What about you?What do you love about editing?”
He raised his eyebrows as he thought for a moment, then said, “I never much liked writing in school.I wanted everything perfect in the first go and didn’t like that it never was.”
Aurelia gave a small laugh of recognition; she’d prefer if her writing was perfect the first time she put pen to paper too.
“But somehow,” he continued, “friends started giving me their papers and essays to revise, and word started to spread that I was good at it.And I liked that—it was easier to see possibility in someone else’s writing.I liked shaping it and feeling like I was helping them chisel away what wasn’t working and get to the best parts underneath.”
“And now?”Aurelia asked, her voice soft after listening to his thoughtful answer.“You feel the same?”
“I do.Where James and I work, it’s a great little press, but we turn things around pretty quickly—about a year to publication—so I don’t get to spend as much time with my authors.I’d like to find a place where I’m there at the start, helping work through early drafts, not just final drafts.And a bigger shop will have more money to bring in more authors, which means I’d have more choice in who to work with too.”
He’d said something similar on their date, only now it seemed less like an overly ambitious slam against where he worked and more of a reasonable goal for his career.Had she been too judgmental then, or was he being more forthcoming now?
There was a pause as they both sipped their wine, and Aurelia thought she should apologize again for what he’d overheard earlier, to explain why she’d sounded so angry, but the moment seemed too far away now.She started thinking of what else she’d like to know about him, but just as she was about to ask him to tell her about his favorite authors—the modern ones he liked more than her classics—David and James finally joined them.
Their conversation had felt so honest yet so easy that she’d almost forgotten everything that had come before, like David pushing them together and Oliver coming to the shop to tell her not to get the wrong idea.And sitting here, she’d almost done just that—started getting ideas about him and her.Chastened by her realization, Aurelia started to thank David for dinner as if to end the evening, but he shushed her and pushed her and Oliver into the living room for coffee and dessert, insisting the night wasn’t over yet.Soon they were all chatting again, and she fell back into that comfort she’d felt moments ago, with Oliver.
Eventually, long after dessert was finished and their coffee mugs were empty, Oliver pulled himself up from the sofa and thanked David and James for a lovely evening.Aurelia stood as well, and they all walked to the door.As she put on her coat, she saw that the hall clock showed it was nearly half past eleven.
“It’s not really that late, is it?”she asked.
“It is,” David said with a satisfied smile.
Aurelia glared at him as she made a mental note to give him an earful the next time they talked.
She and Oliver stepped outside and Aurelia remembered the last time they’d said goodbye, and the time before that.The kiss, and then that moment—ithadbeen a moment, hadn’t it?—at the shop door as he’d said goodbye.Her stomach betrayed her by giving a little jump at the idea, despite what she’d told David.
“My car is just over there.Do you want a lift home?”Oliver offered.
Aurelia could only imagine how awkwardthatgoodbye would be.She had a vision of him pulling up in his car and spotting the characters milling about inside the shop.She wasn’t sure it was even possible for anyone to see them from outside but decided not to risk it.
“No—no, I’m fine.It’s not far.But thank you,” she said, nodding her head decisively in the hope that he wouldn’t insist.
“If you’re sure?”
“I am, thanks.”
Aurelia started her walk home, not wanting to be left standing there, watching as he drove away.She was attracted to him, sure, but it was obviously just some physical chemistry at work.He told you he’s not interested, she reminded herself,and he now knows you’re not interested either.It was fine; she wasn’t ready for a relationship, with him or anyone.At least they seemed to be on their way to being able to sit in a room together without all the unease of a first date, which would come in handy since—as Oliver had so cleverly foreseen—they were likely to see each other again given their mutual friends’ insistence on throwing them together.
Her thoughts of Oliver drifted away as she began walking faster and faster in her excitement to get back to the shop.She was looking forward to sharing her notes with Vronsky and seeing what he thought about her ideas for his future.At the door, she wondered if she’d be able to see everyone through the gaps in the blinds, but she saw only the books and shelves, illuminated by light from the streetlamps coming through the uncovered window on the mezzanine.
Frowning, she unlocked the door, stepped in, and locked it behind her.She slowly turned to face the shop but saw only the rows of books and heard only the soft ticking of the mantel clock.Aurelia walked over to check the hour; it was just after midnight, and past time for the characters to appear.She stood still, looking around and hoping something might happen.
Fezz made his way down the spiral staircase, then began twirling himself around her ankles.She picked him up and pressed her ear to his side, feeling the vibrations of his purring.Pulling her head back, she stared into his eyes.
