Sort of like marriage, if he thought about it.
Charles had been laying low as far as he could tell since sending his poser intern to trip up Bri. But backing off seemed way out of character for him. He probably had more calculated tricks up his sleeve—the question was, what exactly did he expect in exchange for that money he slipped Gerard at Taylor’s? If Bri could be talked out of the entire ordeal, she would have been by now by Charles himself. Besides, Gerard didn’t take underhanded bribes by anyone—especially not weasel lawyers in small towns.
It really didn’t matter what Charles intended, though. Tempting as it was to send that money to his mom, Gerard planned to give it back—as soon as he could swing by the guy’s office.
He shoved the books through the drop-box chute, then realized about three seconds too late that he’d sent the keys to his motorcycle down with them.
Figured. Now he’d have to go inside the library, swallow some crow, and ask the librarian to dig his keys from the drop box. Perfect.
He set his helmet on his bike seat, hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and headed inside.
A rush of warm air greeted him as he entered through the automatic doors. There was a line at the front desk—a mom with a handful of kids, an elderly man wearing an argyle sweater, and two college-aged students loaded down with textbooks.
He tried to slip up to the front of the line. “Ma’am? I really need—”
“It’ll be just a moment.” The librarian didn’t even look at him as she continued pecking at the keyboard.
Oh well. Might as well check out the sci-fi section that he never made it to last time. He ambled toward the novels, dodging a kid in a backward ball cap who had barreled out of the children’s section.
He’d just picked up an older novel by his favorite author when her voice carried over the rows.
Bri.
He snapped the book shut and checked his watch. Thursday night.
Book club.
Who did book club every week? These people were serious. He bit back a groan. He’d have to face Bri sooner or later—after all, he was stuck in Story for part two.
He cocked his head, listening. Surely they were off Pride and Prejudice by now. But it wasn’t the book club—it sounded more like a one-on-one conversation.
Bri’s voice, lower this time, sounded again from around the corner. “Have you tried surprising him? You know, with his favorite meal or a date night?”
The second voice murmured quieter, the first half of her response muted. The last part he heard loud and clear. “. . . but he doesn’t seem interested anymore. He just wants to work all the time.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. You probably just need some romance.” Bri’s soft voice turned consoling.
Gerard frowned. Hardly. If a husband was staying at work all the time, it was for more than just a lack of romance. They probably needed a counselor—or at least some healthy conversation and hard truth.
Bri pushed further. “I bet there’s a book here with some ideas for couples. Or hey, I could make his favorite cake and you could take it home to decorate for him.”
“Thanks, Bri. You always know what to say. That’s a great idea.” The second voice muffled as if they’d hugged. “I’ll see you next week.” A few more muted comments, then footsteps drifted away.
Relief flooded him. At least Bri had left. Now he wouldn’t have to point out what a ridiculous—
Bri suddenly rounded the bookshelf corner, a smile on her face. Then her gaze collided with his and her contented smile quickly vanished. “Gerard?”
He shouldn’t. But he couldn’t help it. “That’s a horrible idea.”
Her lips—glossy pink—parted. “That was a private conversation. What are you doing here?”
“Technically, the cake idea itself isn’t that horrible.” Gerard braced one arm on the bookshelf, ignoring the obvious. “Any guy would eat it and appreciate it, more than likely.”
“What are you even talking about?” She blinked hard, as if that could make him go away. That answered his question as to whether she was still upset with him.
This conversation probably wasn’t helping. But she was so wrong—and she was going to drag the women of Story down with her fairy-dust illusions of reality. “Listen to me. No man is going to take a cake as a sign of trying to fix a relationship.”
She lifted her chin, stubbornness personified. “Sure he will.”
“I’m a man, Cupcake. I’m telling you, never in a million years.”
“Right. Mr. Expert on romance, here. Flowers wilt when you walk past.” Bri crossed her arms over her pale peach top. “What do you suggest, then?”
“Do you really think everything is so easily fixed with romance? With a lock on a wall or a surprise date?” Gerard pointed toward where Bri had been talking to the anonymous woman. “They need solid counseling. There’s a reason he’s MIA.”
“Not necessarily. They just lost the spark.” Bri shrugged. “They’ve been married several years. It happens.”
“And you know this from experience?”
She averted her eyes. “I’ve heard.”
“It can happen, sure.” Gerard caught her gaze. “But I know.”
Boy, did he know. Kelsey’s inattentiveness had led him to make choices—bad ones. Not the same as hers, but unfair ones, nonetheless. If she would have talked to him instead of reaching out elsewhere . . . “Men are intentional, Bri. He’s not working more because he loves his job so much.”
“Maybe they need more money?”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Do they?”
She shook her head slowly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Why are you even telling me this?”
“Because you steered your friend wrong. She needs to have a real conversation with this guy, not cater to him with his favorite toys. If he’s staying away, there’s an issue that needs to be dealt with. Hopefully a minor one.”
She opened her
