The Story Of Us - Teri Wilson Page 0,12

him, then paused to staple a poster to the telephone pole. It looked like a few of the other posters he’d seen around town already—advertisements for an upcoming Valentine-themed event called the Fire and Ice Festival. Sawyer had never heard of it before, so it must’ve been something new.

He shrugged one shoulder and moved on, reminding himself to regard the quaint community through a more neutral architect’s eye. There was much room for improvement. As charming as it was, the area just wasn’t self-sustaining anymore. Adding a mixed-use development could blend residential, commercial and cultural spaces into one area and create a pedestrian-friendly environment that would thrive. Waterford might lose some of its old-world charm in the process, but in the end, change would save the district.

But as he kept walking, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, Sawyer’s gaze landed on the shop at the street corner and he slowed to a halt. Three small café tables that looked like something straight out of an old-fashioned ice cream parlor sat on the sidewalk outside the store. Planter boxes overflowing with red and pink geraniums were perched on the windows. But the pièce de résistance was the faux cherry blossom tree sitting in a red pot beside the shop’s door with delicate pink flowers climbing up the building’s brick exterior and surrounding the entrance with artfully arranged cascading blooms.

The overall effect was breathtaking. Unapologetically romantic—and even prettier than it had looked in the photographs he’d studied for his designs. Sawyer had never seen anything quite like it, even though the shop itself was a place he’d visited many, many times.

True Love Books & Cafe. The swinging sign that spelled out the shop’s name in swirling cursive letters was the same one that had hung beside the door back when Sawyer used to walk Jamie Vaughn to work after school. Seeing it again after all this time made him smile.

He lingered on the threshold, tempted to take a look inside. A few minutes couldn’t hurt. For old times’ sake.

A bell tinkled overhead as he pushed the door open, announcing his arrival. But the sound might as well have indicated he was stepping back in time, because even though the bookshop had clearly been updated in the years he’d been away, simply breathing the air in the old building made him feel steeped in memory. He took a deep inhale, savoring the comforting scent of ink on paper with a touch of something else—warm vanilla, maybe—a unique fragrance he’d forever associate with young love.

With Jamie.

Even now, all these years later, he couldn’t walk into a library or a used bookstore without thinking about the feeling of her hand in his or the graceful tilt of her head when she bent over a book, her blond hair falling over her shoulder in a smooth, glossy curtain.

He blinked. Hard. It was strange the way memory worked, wasn’t it? It could catch you off guard at the oddest moments. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was an orange tabby cat lying on the sales counter, flicking its tail and gazing impassively at Sawyer.

A bookshop cat? Cute.

He took a tentative step toward the animal. It blinked lazily at him, so he offered his hand and was rewarded with a loud purr as the kitty rubbed its cheek against his knuckles.

The cat was definitely new, as were the whitewashed furnishings and bouquets of flowers that decorated nearly every surface. Painted mason jars filled with peonies and hollyhocks were tucked among the shelved books, and the old pink piano stood in the corner, piled high with hardbacks and a vase of white roses. True Love had always been a sort of monument to romance, hence its name. But since the last time Sawyer had spent any time there, someone had lovingly transformed the shop from its charming beginnings to a breathtaking ode to love and literature. The architect in him was nearly as impressed as his inner hidden romantic.

He was ambling deeper into the shop, running his fingertips over a row of books down a narrow aisle, when a voice suddenly pulled him out of his memories and back to the present.

“Look out!”

Out of pure instinct, he reached up and caught a falling book before it hit him in the head. But it must have still knocked something loose inside him because when he glanced up, he was transfixed by the sight of a woman perched atop a rolling ladder staring down at him,