Love Beyond Words (City Lights, #1)(7)
“Yes,” Natalie said, and snatched the book back. “But I’m not in love with him, for crying out loud. Like you said, no one knows who he is. But I am in love with his writing, I admit. And I’m not alone. His first book, Above, was nominated for the Pulitzer and he’s won the National Book Award. Twice. And every single one of his novels has been an international bestseller.”
Marshall dabbed the corner of his eye with his tie and sniffed. “And we’re so proud.”
Liberty made a face. “If he’s won all those awards and whatnot, why is he in hiding? Wouldn’t he want to enjoy the fruits of his labor? That doesn’t make sense. Is he a weirdo?”
“Nah, he’s one of those tortured genius-types like Salinger,” Marshall said. “I’ve read Above and I have to admit, it’s pretty brilliant.”
Natalie beamed.
“Well, I’m glad you’re happy, hon,” Liberty said to Natalie, giving her hand a squeeze. “But if I see you reading that goddamned book while I’m singing my finale…”
“I would never!”
“Good.”
Natalie grinned. “It’s too dark in here, anyway.”
Marshall and Liberty exchanged shocked glances, and then burst out laughing.
Natalie laughed along with them, but the night began to drag after Coronation was hers. Other performers took the stage but she only half-watched. Her eyes kept straying to the book. She ached to go home, curl up on the couch and fall into it, even if it meant another sleepless night. Having Mendón’s latest sit a tantalizingly few inches away from her was a pleasant torture.
Finally, Liberty excused herself to get ready for the finale of the evening. The room darkened and a single spotlight made a small moon on the stage. Liberty stepped into the circle of light, and the small club was saturated with her velvety voice.
The desire for her book fell away as Natalie listened to “Maybe This Time.” Liberty’s Sally Bowles wondered if maybe this time her man would stay, and the song conjured the memory of Julian Kova? walking out of Niko’s. Natalie felt each lyric strike her and sink in. She was almost twenty-three years old. Time to stop hiding in the stories of others; to stop taking her joys and triumphs from the characters in Mendón’s books and start creating her own. Time to find her own voice before every Julian Kova? who walked into her life walked right back out without her saying a word.
She got home to her tiny apartment that night, determined to get some sleep, to finalize any last course requirements for the summer program the next day, and read Coronation when she had the time, like any other person might when they picked up a book. She set it on the coffee table and went to the bathroom to wipe off her makeup.
When she came out, she crossed the kitchen, intending to veer left toward her bedroom alcove. Instead, she found herself sitting on the couch, contemplating Coronation. Her hand, of its own accord, flipped it open and trailed over the opening page. She was certain there was no more tantalizing phrase in the English language than Chapter One. Just the opening sentences, she thought. No sense in depriving herself.
In Aguilar, the village has one rule: he who withstands the sting of the viper wasp is king. Dead men ringed the nest in final reposes; slaves bowing before their master instead of monarchs bent to receive their crowns. Liliana, her hand swollen and bursting with poison, rose on shaking feet. A weaver. A woman. A queen.
The sun was a rosy copper in the east when Natalie turned the final page. She wiped the tears from her eyes, flipped it open to the beginning, and started again.
Chapter Three
The summer slipped away and classes began again in September. Natalie fell into the routine of school and work; reading and pouring coffee, calculating overhead and performing audits for businesses that didn’t exist. Business at Niko’s picked up in the evening hours. Customers came to warm their faces in fragrant steam and curl their fingers around hot mugs, while the first chill winds of autumn blew leaves in miniature cyclones around the front door of the café.
One night, they blew in Julian Kova?.
It was early evening on a Monday; the café hadn’t yet seen its first rush, and Natalie had almost forgotten about him, had almost forgotten how stunning he was. This night he wore jeans and a form-fitting black hoodie over a black shirt. The curls of his black hair hung over his forehead and his thin scrap of a beard cut angular lines on his face. His eyes stood out like brilliant blue stars in a night sky, and Natalie stared until he spoke, jarring her from her stupor.
“Hello, Natalie. It’s good to see you again.”
Natalie’s heart fluttered in her chest. His smile warmed her better than the space heater churning under the cash register.
“Likewise.” A wave of anxiety grabbed hold of her and squeezed. Don’t screw it up this time. “How have, uh…how have you been?”
“Quite well, thank you. And you?”
“Fine.” Natalie realized this was an exchange one had with an acquaintance, not with a customer. Did he realize that? She couldn’t tell; he watched her intently and it seemed as though entire conversations were occurring behind his electric blue eyes. Her own mind had seized up; Natalie could think of nothing to say but for her usual barista spiel: “What can I get for you?”
Julian ordered a regular coffee and a Danish, and the silence continued as Natalie filled his order. She peeked at him from behind the coffee maker and then through the glass of the pastry shelf. He smiled again when she set his order on the counter.