Page 19 of First Comes Love

I inhaled, enjoying the distinct smell of books that surrounded us on built-in shelves that reached all the way to the twelve-foot ceilings. Even at nearly eleven o’clock at night, the shop was full of students and faculty from the university who loved spending their Friday nights literally with their noses buried in books.

Envy snaked through my bliss. I tried not to think this way most of the time, but a part of me still wished I could be one of them. I’d written more than one paper in this exact cafe, had wracked my brains over countless pots of tea, trying to figure out new and exciting ways to argue against Ian Watt’s novel theory. I had only just started learning all the ways that academic writing was actually like going on a treasure hunt using the very best questions and creative blends of philosophy and interpretation. I missed that challenge. I missed it a lot.

Well, even if I couldn’t be a scholar, I could still read, I thought as I pulled a copy of one of my favorites off the shelf behind me. After all, that’s what Elizabeth Bennett would do.

“So, who are you now?”

I looked up to find him carrying a tray bearing food. Just a hint of a humor flitted over his stern face.

“What?” I asked.

Xavier set down the tray, then proceeded to fold his long legs under the little table. It was funny, really. Like watching an extremely serious grizzly bear smash himself into a thimble.

“Before, anytime I saw that look on your face, it was because you were imagining yourself into one of your stories. So, who was it this time?”

I frowned at the book I was holding. How in God’s name did he remember something like that? Then I looked up from my book and offered the sweetest smile I could muster. “‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’”

Xavier nearly spat out his drink. “Excuse me?”

“I was answering your question. I was thinking of one of the many Miss Bennetts. I usually am about half the time.” I flipped my book so he could read the title. Pride and Prejudice. “You mean you don’t recognize the famous opening line of your very favorite book?”

Xavier looked like he wanted to pound his chest. “Ah. No, of course I did. Great stuff. Really wonderful.”

There was something about the way his voice wobbled slightly that made me peer at him for a moment. Xavier just picked at his own food, looking distinctly irritated with the state of the cucumber. Well, it was his fault for choosing something that couldn’t possibly be enough for a man his size, the big silly snob.

“It was my mum’s favorite, actually,” he muttered just when I thought to give up the conversation.

I perked up. I could only recall bits and pieces about Xavier’s mother. She was originally from Japan and fairly young when he was born. She had died when he was just a teenager after being hit by a car. They were close, but that was about all I knew.

He had never been particularly forthcoming about his family life. Or anything, really. Not when we were too busy tearing each other’s clothes off.

Not for the first time, I wondered just what I had been doing all those years ago thinking I was in love with a man that really, I had barely known.

“What was her name?” I wondered.

He looked at me for a long time. “Masumi,” he said quietly.

“Masumi,” I repeated. “What does it mean?”

Xavier pulled at his tie again. “It, ah, can mean a few things. But the characters she used meant ‘true purity.’”

“Lovely,” I said honestly. “Was she a big reader?”

“Sometimes. She learned a lot of her English that way. Reading at the restaurant during the slow hours. Stealing some time at night when she should have been sleeping.”

I chuckled to myself. I understood that better than he could know. How many nights had I chosen books over bed over the last four years just to have one solitary moment of pleasure for just myself? Sometimes as a mother, sleep was just overrated.

“She came to London before you were born, right?” Vaguely, I remembered some story about how his mother originally went to England as a student but had left school to have Xavier.

Now her story sounded familiar in more ways than one.

He nodded. “Yeah. She opened the restaurant in Croydon after I was born.”

“Sushi?” I joked, thinking of his love of fish.

“Izakaya.”

He tipped his head when I just blinked at the word.