Bookstore Girl, 𝘴. 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥

xv.

(ᴊᴜʟʏ 2006. )

The day of her birthday came quickly, in a haze of hot summer days spent in the bookshop, and evenings spent in Spencer's company. 

More often than not, he was called off by serial killers and psychopaths running rampant, but he always came back. 

Since her parents had died, it became tradition for the young woman and her grandfather to spend her birthday together, leaving the bookshop closed in favor of lunch at their favorite diner - the one her and her parents used to go to. 

Two pieces of the best pie in D.C sat on the table between them, a large pink candle sticking out of one. 

No matter how many years he forced her to do it, (y/n) was never able to fully avoid mortification when the other patrons of the restaurant witnessed him singing 'happy birthday' to her. 

"Please, not again," she begged, but he only grinned wickedly. 

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he held his weathered hands up in mock surrender "it's tradition." 

"Tradition or not-" 

He interrupted whatever half-hearted protest she'd begun, singing for his granddaughter's twenty-fifth birthday. 

Although she was embarrassed - so much so that she contemplated never going back to that particular diner - (y/n) couldn't stop smiling at the elderly man in front of her. Even when her parents were still alive, he'd insisted on singing as loudly and horribly as he did to that day. 

For an old man who - some days - couldn't even take the steps down into the bookshop that he put all his life into, he surely could sing loudly. Although, she wondered, maybe he purposefully saved all his energy the entire year just to put it into singing on her birthday. 

She didn't know which was worse: the fact that she thought it was cute, or wished he'd never do it again. 

Not a moment too soon, his verses were over and they were left to chat as they devoured their pie, before heading back to the shop. 

"Come on, my girl," he sighed as they walked arm-in-arm into the familiar space "humor an old man." 

She laughed when she spoke next "I love you - trust me, I do - but there is absolutely no way I am watching Days of Our Lives on my birthday." 

He shrugged. "Well, fine. Where's that young man of yours, then? Working?" (y/n) frowned. 

Spencer was away on a case, down in Florida - where he'd been the past four days. 

Apparently, when they called a few days before, it was pretty bad. Not that he had given her any details, which she didn't need from his perspective anyway. 

She sighed. "He's in Florida." 

Her grandfather clicked his tongue in a tsk-tsk manner. "When your mother began dating your father, I could hardly keep them away from each other. 

They began up the stairs towards their apartment, to settle in for a relatively cozy evening. Until later, when this week's episode of his favorite show aired. By that point, (y/n) hoped he'd get so engrossed with the terrible plotline so she could sneak away. 

Her phone rang as she pushed the door open with her hip, lending an arm to help the old man into their home. 

It was right where she'd left it, on the kitchen table. 

Looking down quickly at the number, (y/n) grinned. Before she even picked up the phone, she could already imagine his face.