The Book of You: A Novel by Claire Kendal Read Free Book Online

gives Rowena’s frozen face an illusion of expressiveness, though I’m alarmed by how pronounced her cheeks have become and scared that whatever the beauty technicians shot into them might harm her. “I do. Like you’ve been to a really great spa.”
    Is this the Rowena who used to play with my hair and tickle my arms when we had sleepovers, then swap places so I could do the same to her?
    “I believe that each of us has a responsibility to look our best at every age.”
    Who are you, and what have you done with Rowena? I silently ask her.
    I take her jeweled hand to get her attention. “I need to talk to you. It’s something very bad.”
    She looks toward the restaurant’s entrance, and it’s as if somebody’s flipped a switch: her dazzling white, cameras-are-on-me smile appears in a flash. She makes no attempt to restrain it.
    I follow her gaze and nearly choke on the sip of water I’ve just taken. The warbling French jazz seems to grow louder, and the room plunges from dim to almost dark. Have they done something to make the lighting even worse? Because I cannot process what I’m seeing.
    What I’m seeing is you. Striding toward me like it is the most normal thing in the world.
    There was no sign of you when I left my flat. No sign of you when the taxi dropped me off. No sign of you at all until now. How did you work out I was here? Only Rowena knew.
    You are beaming. You look radiantly happy, so happy that I’m astonished by a small stab of sadness that I am the one who must wreck this crazy joy of yours. Something you make me do over and over. Don’t you know how exhausting it is? Doesn’t it make you tired, too?
    You are moving your mouth, saying words I don’t understand. You are standing beside Rowena. You are bending to kiss her on each cheek.
    “D-d-don’t touch her.” I’ve never had a stutter, but for a few seconds I do. “G-go away.”
    Rowena pulls out the chair beside her in welcome. “Rafe’s joining us.”
    How can she know your name? None of this is making sense. “He can’t.”
    “I invited him.” Rowena puts her hand on yours. You are first to break the contact, but she seems not to notice. “Sit down, Rafe.”
    My flight response nearly hauls me out of my chair, but I don’t want to leave Rowena alone with you and she doesn’t look like she’s going to follow me out anytime soon.
    “If you’re sure.” You drape your coat over the back of the chair, declining the waitress’s offer to hang it up for you. I’m certain there’s something in the pockets that you don’t want to risk having discovered. I’m certain also that you want to keep your things near so you can grab them quickly to chase after me when I run away.
    I look only at Rowena, as if she is a lifeline I must grab. “I don’t understand.”
    “We wanted to surprise you.” Rowena adjusts her carefully highlighted brown hair.
    I force myself to use my brain and use it quickly. I puzzle out how you linked Rowena to me. It must have been that awards ceremony for businesswomen eight years ago. Rowena was between husbands then, so I went with her. When they called her name, I clapped so hard my palms smarted; I smiled so much my jaw hurt. There’d been a photo of me and Rowena, with both of us named in the caption. It’s the only thing that comes up on me in an Internet search.
    “We thought you’d be excited that we know each other.” Rowena sounds hurt, but my horror of you is even stronger than my usual inclination to comfort and reassure her.
    “How?” My vision is blurring in this stupidly dark room. “How do you?”
    “We met face-to-face for the first time at lunch today. But we’ve been emailing the last two months. It’s amazing how close you can get to a person when you write to each other.” She waves away the approaching waitress. “Rafe follows my business blog. He gets his students to read it to enhance their employability. But he noticed a reference to my creative ambitions in my