anyway, so it’s like a real kick in the pants, another reminder of “you suck, you’re done, it’s all over.”
Claudio starts thumbing through them. “There are only six of them … which is number one?”
Since I only know the English titles, I say, “It should be The Mystery of Princess Street.”
“Hmmm,” he muses, and I take a moment to appreciate the muscles in his back. “I don’t see anything like that.” He pulls one out and turns to hand it to me.
It’s a hardcover, which is a nice change from the mass market paperbacks we are known for in the UK and North America, and feels heavy in my hands. The cover is glossy, and the art is of a door in the snow, which tells me nothing. “Dopo Tutto Sei Arrivato Tu,” I say, reading the title. “What does that mean?”
“It means You Came After All.”
I let out a laugh. “Well, that makes no sense.”
If anything, it sounds a little dirty.
He shrugs. “I know. Sometimes our translations don’t. I’ll be right back.” He then walks away, disappearing around the corner, probably going to check on Vanni.
I examine the book, feeling the thrill of having it in my hands (I have boxes of foreign editions I haven’t unpacked yet) while being in a bookstore in the country of the translation. Yet my heart feels heavy as I stare at the title. And when I flip the book over to the back and see both Robyn’s headshot and mine, my chest swells with grief.
“This isn’t right,” I whisper to the book. “You should be here.” I shouldn’t be in Italy at all. I should be in Edinburgh, either working at my flat, or at the café down the street, or at the house Robyn shared with her fiancé Jack. We should be finishing up on edits for the thirteenth book by now, a book we were halfway through writing when she died.
But that book will never see the light of day, because I couldn’t bear to finish it on my own, even though the publisher asked me to. As a result, I had to pay back my half of the advance, which is why I’m not in the best financial situation at the moment. Meanwhile Jack, who acts as her estate, had to pay back Robyn’s half.
That’s probably why he wants nothing to do with me. Also probably why Maureen didn’t want to be my agent anymore. She got to keep her cut, of course, but I was no longer dependable if I couldn’t even finish the last book.
A presence behind me pulls my mind back into the bookstore, and before I can turn around, an arm shoots out from behind, holding a pen. Claudio is right up against my back, nearly touching me. He might as well be because I can feel the heat of his body radiating outward, and I’m immediately wrapped up in his scent. I automatically close my eyes and breathe it in. It’s subtle, but it’s sweet and warm … like almonds and sunshine.
Forget the linden blossoms, Claudio might be the best smell in the world.
“Here,” he says, his voice sounding low and rumbly, sending shockwaves right into my ear. “Sign them.”
I open my eyes and see him shaking the pen at me. I swallow thickly. “I can’t.”
He takes the pen away and steps to the side to look at me closely, putting space between us. “Why not?” he asks, his eyes searching mine, once again feeling too much and not enough.
“I made a promise not to do any book signings,” I tell him, giving him a guarded look.
He flips the pen around in his fingers while he scrutinizes me. “Who did you make that promise to? Why?”
“To Jack. That’s Robyn’s fiancé. Or … ex- fiancé. Either way, I promised I wouldn’t.”
“So you’re never allowed to sign these books?” Claudio crosses his arms across his chest, seemingly bothered by this.
“Well, more like I can’t have a physical signing. An event. She should be there, you know? And I wouldn’t want to do a signing on my own. It’s not right.”
He purses his lips, thinking, and then tries to hand me the pen again. “This is not a book signing. You are signing books. There is a difference. Please.” He nods at the book. “Sign it.”
“Why?” He’s being strangely persistent.
“Because,” he implores. “It is important. I want you to sign them, all of them, because these books are a part of you and any store is honored