The invitation

Chapter 3: The invitation

The days following my meeting with Brett were marked by a feeling of vertigo. I couldn't find my bearings anymore. The walls of the bookstore, formerly comforting and familiar, now seemed to weigh heavily on me. Each client, every book I touched reminded me of the sudden irruption of this man in my life. Why him? Why me? These questions were constantly running in my head, without clear response.

I had tried to resume my routine. I continued to put away the shelves, to help customers, but my mind was elsewhere. Each movement seemed mechanical, detached to me. And with each bell of the door, each time someone entered the bookstore, my heart was beating a little faster, in the hope that it was not him. But I knew, deep down, that sooner or later Brett would come back.

The third day after our last exchange, the doorbell sounds again. I looked up, and my stomach tightens instantly by recognizing the silhouette that crossed the door. Brett. His intense and determined gaze already stared at the counter, as if no other presence in the room was important. He walked slowly, as if he enjoyed every step he took towards me.

When he arrived at my height, he stopped, fixing me with the same intensity that he had had the first time. I had trouble swallowing my saliva. I knew what was going to follow, but I didn't know if I was ready to face it.

- "I see that you are still here."

Her calm and cold voice was heard. I tried not to let my nervousness get through.

- "Yes, as usual." I tried to appear indifferent, but I could not mask the hustle and bustle that rose in me. "Do you still come and get something?"

Brett smiled slightly, but he didn't seem like a man who was looking for a simple book. He raised his head slightly, as if he scanned a future that he was alone to know.

- "I came to talk to you, Hope. It's no longer a question of books."

I felt a shiver browse my spine. The tone of his voice was different. More serious, more determined, as if something bigger was playing.

- "I told you that I did not understand what you expect from me." My voice was shaking slightly despite my efforts to keep it firm.

He looked at me, his gaze piercing like a ray of light that pierced me. Then, with a quiet movement, he took out a small paper from his pocket and put it in front of me on the counter.

- "I have reserved a place for you for tonight."

I looked up towards him, taken aback. "A place for what?" I asked, a shiver covering my arms.

He slightly brought his shoulders, as if he expected this reaction.

- "For a dinner. A dinner that we will have together tonight."

I looked at him, incredulous. A dinner? With him? It was absurd. How could he be so direct, so sure of himself? And yet, there did not seem to be violence in his proposal, just a certainty, as if the invitation was an obvious step in a plan that he had already drawn.

-"I ... I can't accept this," I said, backing up slightly, my heart beating everything.

Brett remained calm, but he was not the type to accept a refusal. He put his hand on the corner of the counter, his gaze always fixed on me.

- "You will accept, Hope." His voice was soft, but there was a power in his words which forced me to listen to. "I am not asking you to come, I invite you. But you will be there tonight. There is no place for doubt."

I felt a pressure that tightened my chest. I swallow. This time, the irresistible attraction that I felt at first turned into something more worrying. I wondered if refusing could be an option, but the idea of fleeing this meeting seemed more difficult than accepting it. It was not just a dinner. This dinner seemed to be the prelude to something much larger, much more complex, and in one way or another, I knew that I could not avoid it.

I looked at the paper on the counter. A simple piece of paper with an address and an hour. I could still refuse, leave everything, forget everything. But deep down, I knew that this dinner, this moment, was going to change everything.

Brett was patiently waiting, as if the time had no grip on him. He didn't even seem in a hurry, just sure of himself. I found myself trapped in his eyes, unable to turn away from him.

-"Tonight, at eight o'clock," he said, as if it were a fait accompli.

Without waiting for my answer, he turned his heels and headed for the door. But before going out, he turned one last time. He stared at me intensely, a slight smile on the lips.

- "I will be there, hope. You will not escape me."

And he disappeared in the street, as suddenly as he had arrived.

I stayed there, the paper in my hands, my heart heavy. I knew that this evening would mark the beginning of something bigger, something I had not asked for, but for which I seemed intended. I could still refuse, leave everything, forget everything. But deep down, I knew that this dinner, this moment, was going to change everything.

The dilemma would tear my mind, but one thing was certain: this meeting was only the beginning.