“Does the internet work okay?” Antonia asked from the doorway.

His gaze shot up. “Yes, yes, it does.”

She peered at him. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect,” Aiden said. “I’m going to submit something to an American Literature anthology.”

“Cool,” she said with a nod. “Sorry about the mess. I was writing when the storm got bad.”

He closed her laptop. “No worries. I see you’ve got some inspirational literature for your work,” he said, holding up a worn book. On the cover, a woman with a heaving bosom was being held by a shirtless man.

“Oh god,” she said, thoroughly embarrassed. “Please ignore those.”

Okay then, she definitely wouldn’t want to know I’ve been reading her book. “It’s nothing to be worried about,” he said. “I’m not going to wind you up over research.”

Antonia’s face was not relieved. She entered the room, snatched the book from his grasp and gathered the rest of her books from the bed. “Yes, but I don’t want you to think I sleep with porn,” she said with shaky laughter.

“Admittedly, what I’m imagining is delightful,” he said with a chuckle. She carried the books to her suitcase and dropped them inside. “But the books can serve more than one purpose, right?”

She shot him a look. “Aiden.”

“If I were to start reading romance, which of those books would you recommend?”

Antonia stood still with her arms crossed over her chest. This wasn’t like when they were tipsy. She was dealing with the fact that she’d told him about her book in the cold sober light of the morning. “Why do you want to know?” she asked, narrowing her large brown eyes into suspicious slits.

“Because I might like to read one,” he said in an easygoing tone. “I’ve never read a romance. Frankly, with all of the teaching and writing, I haven’t had time to read anything.”

She was still suspicious, but she loosened her arms. “Okay...”

“What do you recommend?”

“It depends,” she said. “I only brought historical romances with me. Do you prefer the English or French period pieces?”

“Fuck the English,” he said bluntly.

“Alright,” she said retrieving a book and tossing it to him. “If you don’t mind reading about the French Revolution, try this.”

He caught it with one hand. The cover was much less conspicuous than the others, no half-nude couples grasping at one another. It was a simple French flag and an unfurled lace fan. “Doesn’t look very romantic.”

“Trust me, you’ll get what you’re looking for.”

The cover, like all the others, was worn and tattered, its spine was broken in several places where Antonia had refused to use a bookmark. “Well, then let me make a suggestion for today’s activities.”

“Yeah?”

Aiden pulled himself off her bed, her book in hand. “Let me take you to Letterfrack for some grocery shopping. Afterwards we can stop at a coffee shop for some writing. You can continue working and I can read.”

The look of suspicion eventually melted away to reveal a puzzled grin. “You really want to read that while I write?”