She thought about him as a little boy, and the deplorable mother, and the anger subsided. “For what it’s worth, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“You’re sweet.” His smile was fleeting. “And I kind of love you.”

That brought her up short. Was he Trevor Dashwood or Tyrell Denton? A practiced liar. A man damaged by a terrible mother. Natalie vacillated between compassion and irritation. “I love what you’ve done with your life. You turned it into something really beautiful.”

“But …” Over the rim of his glass, he sent her a knowing look.

“But I’m not what you’re looking for.” Her throat felt raw as she scraped the truth from deep inside. “I guess you could say I’ve been acting, too. Acting like someone who knows how to have a relationship, who knows what she wants. And the fact is, I don’t. And that sucks for me, because you’re pretty wonderful,” she said. “I’ll never forget what you did for me and Grandy.”

“Shit,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He rattled the ice cubes in his glass.

“Everybody in the world thinks I’m an idiot, because you’re fantastic.”

“I’m a fraud,” he said.

No wonder he flipped everything in his books. “What would America’s favorite author do? Come up with the flip side, right? Write down ten things you really, really like. Can you do that?”

“One way or other, I’ve been rewriting my own story in every book I write.”

“You did something incredible with your life, and I’m sure you’re doing the best you can for your mother, and you deserve everything and more.”

“You know,” he said, “as breakup talks go, this one is pretty damn kind.”

“A kind breakup? That sounds like a flip side story.”

“You’re a good person, Natalie.” He offered a sweet, sad smile. “Promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“When that rare first edition of the bird book magically appears, make sure I’m the first one you call.”

24

Natalie returned from a meeting with the private lending firm in a state of utter defeat. Even the sight of customers milling around the shop didn’t boost her spirits. Bertie was doing a dramatic reading of The Book with No Pictures to a group of delighted toddlers. Cleo was at the counter, working on her latest play. She took one look at Natalie’s face and motioned her into the office.

“Tell me,” she said.

Natalie took a long breath. “It’s bad. The principal on the loan is huge, and Mom was in arrears for more than three years. The amount they want on the payment plan is way out of our reach, even now that our revenues are up a bit. And then there’s the tax situation …”

“Aw, shoot. I’m sorry.”