PART THREE: THE BOOKSTORE

Saturday arrived with unseasonable warmth, a last gasp of Indian summer before Boston surrendered to fall. Jackson parked his least ostentatious car, a modest Audi, a block from The Reading Treehouse, and walked the rest of the way feeling oddly nervous.

The storefront was charming, with a large oak tree painted around the door and whimsical branches extending across the windows. Inside, the space was transformed into a child’s fantasy. Bookshelves designed to look like tree trunks, reading nooks nestled in branches, and a central area made to resemble a forest clearing complete with cushions shaped like toadstools and tree stumps.

Jackson stepped inside, instantly feeling out of place in his casual designer clothes among the children and parents browsing the shelves. He spotted Emma at the counter helping a young boy select a book. She wore jeans and a simple green sweater. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Looking completely at home in the magical space she had created.

She looked up and caught his eye, offering a small smile before returning her attention to her customer.

Jackson wandered through the store, finding himself in the dinosaur section. He selected a book with a Pachycephalosaurus on the cover, remembering Lily’s impressive pronunciation.

“That’s a good one,” said a small voice beside him.

Jackson turned to find Lily looking up at him, clutching a different dinosaur book to her chest. “Is it? I’m trying to learn more about dinosaurs.”

Lily nodded solemnly. “This one has the best pictures, but if you want facts, the blue one is better.” She pointed to another book on the shelf.

“Thank you for the recommendation,” Jackson said, feeling an unexpected warmth at the child’s earnestness. “You’re quite the expert.”

“Mom says I’m a niche enthusiast.” She pronounced the phrase carefully, clearly proud of the sophisticated terminology.

“That’s a very good thing to be.”

Emma approached, watching their interaction with curious eyes. “I see you’ve met our resident dinosaur consultant.”

“She’s giving me excellent advice,” Jackson replied.

Lily beamed, then suddenly narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you coming for pizza with us?”

“If that’s still all right with your mom.”

Lily looked to Emma, who nodded. “Yes, Mr. Pierce is joining us for pizza.”

“You can call me Jackson,” he told Lily.

“Okay, Jackson.” She tested the name carefully. “Do you like pepperoni?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Lily nodded decisively. “Mom only lets us get half pepperoni because she says it’s too spicy, but I think she’s wrong.”

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The neighborhood pizzeria was nothing like the upscale restaurants Jackson frequented, but the authentic Italian family establishment had something his usual haunts lacked: genuine character. Red and white checkered tablecloths, signed photos of local celebrities on the walls, and the heavenly aroma of garlic and tomato sauce created an atmosphere no five-star restaurant could replicate.

“Antonio!” Lily called out as they entered, waving enthusiastically to the gray-haired man behind the counter.

“Piccola Lily!” The man’s face lit up. “And Emma, your usual table is waiting.”

Emma smiled warmly. “Thanks, Antonio. We have a guest tonight.”

Antonio’s eyes settled on Jackson with undisguised curiosity. “A friend, eh? Welcome, welcome.”

Jackson found himself ushered to a corner booth that clearly was their spot, with Lily climbing in beside him rather than her mother, an arrangement that seemed to surprise Emma as much as it did him.

“We come here every Saturday,” Lily explained, handing him a laminated menu he didn’t need. “Sometimes Wednesdays, too, if Mom has a meeting.”

“Board meetings,” Emma clarified. “For the local business association.”

“Do you have board meetings?” Lily asked Jackson, swinging her legs beneath the table.

“Too many,” Jackson admitted. “They’re not nearly as much fun as pizza night.”

Their half pepperoni, half vegetable pizza arrived, along with a small Caesar salad that Emma had ordered despite Lily’s protests. “That salad ruins pizza night.”

Watching Emma deftly cut Lily’s slices into manageable pieces, while simultaneously wiping a spot of sauce from her daughter’s chin, Jackson was struck by their easy, affectionate routine.

“So, Jackson,” Emma said once they were all eating, “what do you normally do on Saturday nights when you’re not crashing our pizza tradition?”

There was no judgment in her tone, just genuine curiosity. Jackson considered the question, suddenly aware of how hollow his usual weekend activities would sound. “Honestly? Often work. Sometimes charity events or industry functions.” He took a bite of pizza to avoid elaborating on the string of forgettable dates and obligatory social appearances that frequently filled his calendar.

“That sounds boring,” Lily declared with a child’s brutal honesty.

Jackson laughed. “It is, actually.”

“Don’t you have any hobbies?” Lily pressed, sauce dotting her chin again. “I have dinosaurs and swimming and my rock collection.”

“Lily,” Emma admonished gently. “Not everyone wants to share all their personal interests.”

“It’s all right,” Jackson assured her. “I used to build things. Mechanical projects, small inventions. That’s how I started my company, actually. But I haven’t done anything like that in years.”

The realization struck him as he said it. When had he stopped doing the thing he loved most?

“You should start again,” Lily said matter-of-factly, reaching for her second slice. “Mom says when you stop doing what makes you happy, your soul gets grumpy.”

Emma nearly choked on her water. “I don’t think those were my exact words.”

“Close enough,” Lily shrugged, turning her attention back to Jackson. “Do you have kids?”

The directness of the question caught him off guard. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Lily,” Emma intervened more firmly. “That’s a very personal question.”

Jackson waved away her concern. “It’s fine. The truth is, I never found the right person to have a family with.”

Lily considered this solemnly. “Mom says she found the right person, but he turned out to be a wrong person pretending.”

Emma’s face flushed. “Lily Carter, that is quite enough personal conversation for one pizza night.”

“Sorry,” Lily mumbled, though she didn’t look particularly repentant.

To Jackson’s surprise, he found the child’s forthright questions refreshing rather than uncomfortable. In his world of careful corporate speak and calculated social interactions, such directness was rare and valuable.

“It’s really all right,” he told Emma. “Kids have a way of cutting through the nonsense, don’t they?”

Something in Emma’s expression softened. “They do. It’s exhausting and enlightening all at once.”

The evening continued pleasantly, with Lily dominating the conversation, sharing detailed information about her dinosaur collection, her first-grade teacher Mrs. Wilson, and her best friend Zoe, who could do a cartwheel but couldn’t whistle, which is weird because whistling is way easier than cartwheels.

By the time they finished their dessert, cannoli that Antonio insisted they try, Jackson realized he had laughed more in one evening than he had in months. There was something liberating about sitting in a simple pizzeria with tomato sauce on his two-hundred-dollar casual shirt, listening to a six-year-old’s perspective on the world.

When they stepped outside, the temperature had dropped and Emma pulled Lily’s jacket more tightly around her. “We should get home. It’s already past someone’s bedtime.”

“I’m not tired,” Lily protested, undermining her claim with a poorly concealed yawn.

“I’ll drive you,” Jackson offered.

Emma hesitated. “We usually walk. It’s only a few blocks.”

“It’s getting cold and it’s late.” He pointed out. “Please, let me drive you.”

After a moment’s consideration, Emma nodded. “Thank you.”

In the car, Lily fell asleep almost immediately, her head lolling against the seatbelt.

“She’s exhausted,” Emma whispered. “Too much excitement today.”

“I hope I wasn’t too much of an intrusion on your routine.”

Emma glanced at him. “Not at all. She clearly enjoyed having you along.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” Jackson said, meaning it. “You’ve done an incredible job with her.”

“Thank you.” Emma’s voice softened. “It hasn’t always been easy, but she’s worth every difficult moment.”

As they pulled up to Emma’s house, Jackson noticed her stiffen slightly. Following her gaze, he spotted a sleek BMW parked across the street, a man leaning against it with his arms crossed.

“Emma?” Jackson questioned, sensing her sudden tension.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, though her expression suggested otherwise. “It’s just Lily’s father.”

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