Charlie’s eyes glaze over as I show him yet another design idea I have for the store.

“It’s great, Livvy,” he tells me, his voice raspy and tired. “Really, truly. It’s going to be fantastic. I just hope this place is big enough for all you have planned.”

When I first started telling him about my plans to expand the store, he was a little hesitant. After all, he’d spent his entire life building this place from the ground up, and he loves it just the way it is. Truth be told, I do as well. There is something completely charming about the bookstore. Other than the computer I use for inventory, it’s completely tech-free. No free Wi-Fi, tablets, or e-readers here. It is the perfect place to get lost in a book and not come up for air for hours.

But I’m also a realist, and I know that, as charismatic as I find this place, it’s not going to last much longer in the growing age of technology. Bookstores everywhere are closing up shop, thanks to the digital age, and if we don’t embrace it, it won’t be long until we’re following suit.

My plan is to merge the digital revolution with the classic feel that Turn the Page has always possessed. Mix the old with the new, and hopefully, come up with something groundbreaking. By the time I’m done, this place will not only be lined with books, but also places for people to meet and discuss their favorite characters, grab coffee with their favorite author, or set up writing sessions with their fellow aspiring writers. There will be stations set up throughout the store with Skype and FaceTime available to meet with those who might be on the other side of the country. And let’s not forget the coffee. Gone will be the simple cup of black coffee with two sugars that Charlie always has on hand. Instead, we’ll have a top-of-the-line espresso maker, able to whip up any concoction our customers can dream of.

My long-term plan is to open several other stores around the region, adding on a sort of weekend-getaway option for readers and writers alike. A book-nerd retreat, if you will. Cozy rooms with an all-access pass to the store for the duration of their stay. Because, if there’s one thing book nerds like, it’s being around other book nerds. It’s like all hermit tendencies disappear once we get around each other.

Introverts unite!

I’d love nothing more than to create an oasis for readers of all kinds. And I won’t stop until I make that dream a reality.

The whole thing exhausts my dear old Charlie though. I watch as he reaches up and rubs his tired eyes, and it strikes me, just how worn out he’s looking these days. The lines on his face have deepened over the years, which is to be expected. But Charlie’s face no longer holds that youthful glow I’ve always known and loved about him. The one that, despite the advancing years on the calendar, has never faltered.

I don’t know when it happened, but it breaks my heart. And it only further solidifies my drive to take over and give Charlie a chance to relax.

I reach out and place my hand over his, rubbing the back with my thumb. He softly smiles up at me.

“What’s wrong, Charlie?” I ask, concern dripping from every word.

He lifts his other hand and places it over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Nothing, Livvy Girl. Your old man is just getting old.”

“Which is all the more reason for you to retire,” I tell him, giving him a pointed look.

He chuckles. “You might be right about that. One day soon. I want to stick around this world long enough to watch that grandbaby of mine grow up.”

It warms my heart that he refers to my baby as if it were his biological grandchild. Charlie and his wife were never able to have kids, and he’s always referred to me as the daughter he never had but always desperately wanted.

But hearing him pass that down to my unborn child…

I bite back the tears as I feel the familiar stinging in the back of my throat.

Goddamn pregnancy hormones.

I’ve been blaming just about everything in my life on those damn things lately.

Brandon calls to say goodnight, causing me to tear up?

Hormones.

That horrible ASPCA commercial with the dogs and their giant eyes and trembling bodies turning me into a fucking bawl bag?

Hormones.

The fact that I’ve nearly worn out the batteries in my favorite vibrator each and every night since my last night with Brandon?

Hormones.

I flush as I think about my late-night escapades with good old BOB last night and quickly drop my face before Charlie can see. That’s the last thing I need—Charlie asking questions about why I just randomly turned as red as a tomato.

Charlie yawns widely, and I snap my gaze back up to him. When a second yawn almost immediately follows the first, I climb to my feet, holding my hand out to him.

“That’s it. You’re going home. I can finish here tonight and close up. You need to go home and get some rest.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t argue, instead simply nodding and giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek before turning and heading out the back. He only lives a block away from the store, renting out an old apartment above the barber shop after his wife died so that he could be close by in case of an emergency. Not that any place in Maple Lake is really that far from here, but Charlie enjoys the peace of mind it gives him, knowing he can be on hand at a moment’s notice.

I watch as he moseys down the street, and I don’t go back to my designs until I see him disappear into the barber shop.

I pull up the file again, clicking through each element as I try to cement everything into my brain.

I want this to be perfect.

I lose all track of time and don’t even realize the sun has begun to set until the front door opens, causing the bell to clang wildly. The sound jars me from my work, and I look up at the darkening windows, pissed at myself for not having the sense to lock up when I was supposed to.

I climb off the stool, walking around the counter to greet my late night patron.

“Sorry, we’re closed…” I trail off when I see the person standing just inside the doorway.

Her dark hair is laced with gray, a fact that surprises me, given how taken she always was with her appearance. Her once-pretty face is ashen, her eyes recessed deep inside her sockets, her high cheekbones now jagged as they protrude from her sunken face.

She tries to give me a halfhearted smile when she sees me, but it falls short.

“What are you doing here?”

Not the finest way to greet your mother after nearly a decade apart, but they’re the first words that sprung to mind. And it’s the only thing that matters really.

I sent her the money she’d asked for as soon as the bank opened the day after her call. Surely, she can’t already be here for more.

And why in the hell did she come in person instead of just calling again?

“What are you doing here, Linda?” I repeat, my voice firm and my tone steady this time.

It seems to snap her out of whatever fog she was in since stepping inside because her eyes flick up to mine, and she scoffs.

“Again with the Linda. I’m your mother, Olivia. You will address me as such.”

I roll my eyes. “And again, Linda, you weren’t much of a mother. I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want. Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”

Her eyes narrow as she takes in my appearance, as if she’s just now realizing it’s been years since we last laid eyes on each other. Her gaze travels down from my face, over my body, all the way to the shoes on my feet before snapping back up to mine.

“You look good.”

Now, it’s my turn to scoff. “Yeah, no thanks to you.”

“I’ve missed you, Livvy,” she whines, not even acknowledging my comment. “I wanted to see you.”

I cringe at the nickname, hating when absolutely anybody other than Charlie calls me that. Especially her.

“Bullshit. What do you want?”

Her lower lip trembles as she takes a step toward me. “I messed up, Livvy. I need a place to stay. Just for a little while.”

My mouth falls open, shock flowing through me as her words register. “And you thought that place could be here?”

She nods, a small pout on her face as she tries to give me her most pitiful look.

And it works. She looks absolutely pathetic with her ratty clothes and her stringy hair. If she were anybody else, I’d feel sorry for her.

But it’s not someone else. It’s my mother.

“I don’t understand why you’d come back here. You couldn’t wait to get away from this place.”

I watch as the wheels turn in her head, her face screwing up in a sneer as she tries to come up with a response.

“I’ll admit, this town isn’t my favorite place on earth. But you’re here, Livvy. And you’re my daughter.”

“Stop calling me that,” I spit out.

She takes a step back, her face falling a little as she looks at me. “It’ll only be for a little while. Just until I can get back on my feet.”

But I know her. She’ll stick around long enough to mooch off me until she can find some other unsuspecting victim to fall into her trap. Then, who knows when or if I’d ever see her again?

I don’t give a shit if she wants to blow me off. But it’s not just me anymore.

“That’s just it, Linda. You’ve never been on your feet to begin with. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. My entire life, you’ve bounced from one man to the next, hoping and praying that one of them will actually love you and take care of you for good. You just need some place to crash until the next one comes along. And I refuse to be that person. Not anymore.”

Her eyes narrow as she looks at me, her gaze focusing on my midsection. I glance down, realizing that, while I spoke, I instinctively placed a protective hand over my stomach. My fingers are rubbing back and forth across the fabric of my shirt, making small circles over the barely there bump.

It’s as if a light bulb switches on over my mother’s head. Realization registers on her face, and her mouth falls open as she stares at me.

“Are you…”

I take a step toward her, lifting my arm to point toward the door. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

I spin her around by her shoulders when I reach her, nudging her toward the door when she doesn’t take a step. She stays rooted to the floor though, whirling around on me instead of taking the hint and getting the fuck out of my life.

“Oh, this is rich. You’re sitting here, giving me a lecture about not being able to take care of myself, all the while you’re knocked up with some bastard kid?”

It takes everything in me not to reach out and smack her across the face for referring to my baby that way. Instead, I shove her harder. “Get. Out.”

Her hand darts down to my left one, her fingers clasping around it as she pulls it up to her face. “No ring. Guess it’s true what they say; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

I push her again, not caring that I’m probably being too forceful. It still doesn’t seem to have an effect on her though, her fragile body ducking out from under me as she spins out of my grip.

“Who is he, Liv? One of the yokels this town likes to produce? Did you go and get yourself knocked up by a farm boy?”

I clench my fists and count to ten, trying to keep my cool as she continues to run her mouth. I tune out her words, the venom spilling out past her lips, spewing hatred about the town I call home.

I’m two seconds away from calling the police to come and get her ass out of here when it happens.

“Rewrite the Stars” from The Greatest Showman breaks through her tirade, and before I can reach for my phone, my mother lunges for it and grabs it up.

“Brandon Jeffers,” she reads from the screen.

I snatch it out of her hand before she can answer it, silencing the call and stuffing the phone in my back pocket.

But again, the wheels are spinning in her head.

“Why do I know that name?”

I stay silent, refusing to give her further fuel to fan her fire.

She ponders for a moment. “Was he in town before? When I was here?”

My steely gaze stays fixed on hers, my face not giving an inch. “Get. Out,” I repeat.

“Is he the father?”

Again, silence.

“Oh, come on, Livvy. What’s it going to hurt? Just answer the question.”

I nod my head once before pointing to the door.

She scoffs. “You think you’re so much better than me, Olivia Hunter. But I’ve got news for you. I started out just like you. A strong-willed girl who thought I could take on the world. All it took was one failed condom to change my life forever. You think about that.”

With those words, she spins on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her.

Her words don’t follow her though. No, they stay right where they are, lingering and haunting me with their truth.

I’ve seen pictures of my mother growing up. I’ve seen the awards she won in school and heard about the plans she made for herself.

Then, I came along.

I fall down to my knees, unable to stop the tears running down my cheeks. I cradle my stomach in my arms, trying like hell to protect the innocent life in there from all the hate that was just in this room.

“I’m so sorry, Little Bean. I’m so, so sorry you had to hear that. I promise you that you will never, ever feel the way I’m feeling right now. You are loved. And you are wanted.”

A sharp pain rips through my stomach, causing my breath to hitch and a scream to catch in my throat. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and I rush to the restroom.

But I already know what I’m going to find.

As I yank down my pants, a bright red spot of blood stares up at me from my white panties.

My hands shake as I reach for the phone in my back pocket.

“Lexi? I need your help.”