The Meeting

As Evan took his seat behind the signing table, he looked around at the familiar shelves, at the quiet elegance of the space that had become something of a sanctuary to him. Greenwood & Co. wasn’t just a bookstore, it was a testament to love, resilience, and the power of stories to bring people together. And as the morning light poured through the Victorian windows, he felt a deep, quiet satisfaction settle over him, knowing he was exactly where he belonged.

Ben retreated to the back of the store, “I got your books in a couple of days ago Evan, I will be right out with them in just a minute.” Ben stated proudly, and promptly returned with boxes of Evan’s book to be set up for display.

“Perfect, thanks, Ben.”

Evan turned from the desk finding his eyes sweeping over the rows of shelves, each filled with stories waiting to be told. He set his bag on the table and began arranging copies of Whispers Between the Lines, glancing every so often out the window, his mind wandering back to the woman from his dreams.

Ben cleared his throat. “Expecting someone?”

Evan blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “No, just… daydreaming, I suppose.”

Ben chuckled knowingly, giving Evan a light pat on the shoulder. “Well, let’s hope today brings some interesting company.”

And the company it brought.

Lila stood outside the bookstore, one hand resting on the cold iron handle of the door, her heart racing. The autumn air wrapped around her, brisk and biting, reminding her of all the decisions that had led her to this moment. She’d never been one to idolize authors, never the type to lose herself in admiration over someone’s words. But Whispers Between the Lines had become something more than a book to her; it was a balm, a piece of solace that had helped her reconstruct herself, word by fragile word.

Now, standing here on the verge of meeting the man behind those words, she couldn’t help the flutter of nerves tickling the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, as if she could release the last of her hesitation into the crisp October morning. “You’re here, Lila,” she whispered to herself.

“You’ve come this far. Just breathe.”

Pushing the door open, she felt a warm rush of air as she entered. Inside, the bookstore smelled of leather and old paper, mingling with the faint, earthy scent of cedar. She took a moment to appreciate her surroundings, dark wood shelves lined with spines in every imaginable color, a Victorian bay window casting dappled light across the room. The space felt both warm and intimate, as though it had been waiting to be discovered by someone in need. It was the kind of place where secrets could be hidden in the margins, where mysteries breathed between the pages.

Evan was caught in the middle of arranging the books that Ben had placed on the floor at the side of the table. He then heard the door to the store open by the subtle ring of the door chime attached to the door, that welcomed every customer who entered. When seeing her for the first time he could not help but stare, and for a moment, the bookstore faded into the background. She entered with a quiet confidence, wearing a fitted olive-green trench coat that hugged her frame, classic and understated, hinting at an elegance beneath her conservative appearance. Her brown hair fell in gentle waves around her shoulders, and she brushed a loose

strand behind her ear as her gaze wandered the shelves. Her eyes were green, a shade that reminded him of fresh leaves after the rain. There was something about the way she moved, a soft hesitancy, as though she was both drawn to and intimidated by the prospect of being there. He quickly turned back to his task not wanting to put out the wrong impression, and took advantage of the few seconds he had to recompose himself.

Lila then saw him. Evan Blackburn stood near a table by the window, his back turned slightly as he arranged copies of his book. For a moment, she simply took him in. He was tall, his shoulders broad beneath a leather jacket that looked worn in, familiar, and effortlessly stylish. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as though he’d raked his fingers through it just moments before. There was an energy about him, something that felt both grounded and restless, like a force caught between calm and storm. She could feel her pulse quicken, a quiet thrill that sent warmth to her cheeks.

She walked toward him, smoothing her trench coat, her fingers grazing over the soft fabric of her sweater underneath, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Her olive-green coat was fitted and simple, paired with dark jeans and ankle boots, a combination she had chosen to look polished but unassuming. She didn’t want to appear too eager, but now, as she drew closer, she couldn’t help but worry that her nerves were showing. Her gaze drifted back to him, and she noticed how his posture conveyed both confidence and a quiet reserve, as though he held something back even while standing alone.

With each step, she rehearsed a greeting in her mind, hoping she wouldn’t stumble over her words. She wanted to be poised, to let him know what his book had meant to her without sounding overly sentimental. But her heart betrayed her with its insistent beat, making her feel as though she’d already revealed too much. Then, as if sensing her presence, he turned.

Their eyes met, and she felt something that was unexpected, a spark of recognition she couldn’t explain. His eyes were a deep, stormy gray, intense and piercing, but softened by something unnamable, a warmth that made her feel as though she’d known him for far longer than a few silent seconds. He was even more handsome than she’d imagined, with a quiet intensity that seemed to draw everything toward him. She was struck by the way he looked at her, as though he saw through the veneer she so carefully maintained.

“Evan Blackburn I presume?” she asked, her voice as soft as her demeanor, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of admiration and uncertainty. Her voice was softer than she intended, betraying her sudden vulnerability.

He smiled a subtle, genuine expression that put her instantly at ease. “Yes,” he replied, unable to hide the slight smile tugging at his lips. “And you are…?”

“Lila Monroe.” She held out her hand, and he shook it gently, feeling the coolness of her fingers, delicate yet steady.

“Lila,” Evan repeated, as though savoring the sound of her name. His voice was rich, calm, with a touch of curiosity. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Have you read Whispers Between the Lines?”

“Oh yes!” Lila then catching herself as she felt herself blush, “I mean, I’ve been wanting to come to one of your signings for a while now. Your book has been… well, it’s been my nightly escape.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s quite a compliment. What is it about the book that you find so…escapist?”

Author

Matthew Haylett

The Meeting