Chapter 53
Figments was slow, slower than usual for a Saturday afternoon.
Sunlight warmed the floorboards. Someone had started a Sufjan Stevens album in the back. And I was sitting behind the counter, knees tucked up beneath me, sipping lukewarm tea and pretending to read while just rereading the same line six times.
I hadn’t seen him yet today.
Not since he had dropped me off at my house the night prior with a searing kiss, and an embrace that lasted an eternity.
And a slap on the ass, just to remind me he hadn’t changed all that much.
I hadn’t seen him since the argument with ‘The Way We Move’s director. Since he’d closed the door on Kellogg like he was done being anything other than mine.
I didn’t know what that made me yet.
I was still turning it over in my hands when the front door opened. I didn’t look up right away.
Not until I smelled the coffee.
Not until I heard the soft scrape of his boots and the unmistakable warmth in his voice: “I bring peace offerings. Plural.”
My head snapped up.
He was grinning — a little sheepish, a little tired — with two coffees in hand and a manila envelope tucked beneath one arm. He’d used the same kind for the first donation.
“Oh no,” I said instantly. “What did you do?”
“Hey sweetheart,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like he hadn’t gone toe to toe with a venomous director yesterday. Like he hadn’t caught me crying in his arms after.
I stood up, rounding the counter. “What did you do, Ansel?”
“I made an executive decision.”
“Ansel.”
He handed me one coffee. Then — slowly — offered the envelope. “I think we deserve a vacation.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I want to take you away for a few days.”
I blinked. “Away.”
“Yeah.” His voice had gone softer. “Somewhere quiet.”
“Where?”
Another pause. His eyes were steady. “Oregon.”
My stomach flipped. “You want to go see your mom.”
“I’m overdue. She’s been asking about me…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “About you.”
I stared. “So go.”
He smiled at that — it was the kind of smile that meant he was bracing for me to push him away. “I don’t want to go alone.”
My throat closed.
“I’d like you to meet her.”
The room went very still. Even the chime on the door swayed once, then settled. “I know it’s fast,” he said quietly. “And I know you’re still… deciding what this is. But she’s important to me. You’re important to me. And she already knows your name, Juniper. She’s been asking about you for weeks.”
I looked down at the envelope. He’d scrawled his name in the top corner. “This is for the shop?”
“Two weeks,” he said. “If you want them.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I’m not asking for anything more than time together,” he added. “I’m just asking if you’d come with me. If you’d let me, I’d like to show you where I came from. Who I come from.”
My hand curled tighter around the coffee cup. “And what if she hates me?”
“She won’t.”
“But what if she does?”
“Then she’ll be wrong,” he said. “But I think… I think she’ll look at you and understand.” His eyes sparkled as he smiled. “I’ve never… brought someone home.”
I looked up.
He wasn’t smiling anymore. Not really. Just watching me with something so bare in his expression, I had to look away.
My heart was thudding. I wasn’t ready. But I didn’t want to stay still. Didn’t want us to stay still.
“Okay,” I said. My voice barely carried. “I’ll go, but I have a condition.”
“Anything,” he said quickly, eagerly. “Everything. Whatever you want.”
“No flying.”
He laughed under his breath, but there was something tender in it. “No flying,” he agreed. I stared down at the cup in my hands. I could feel the heat through the paper, the way my fingers trembled slightly around it. Like my body knew before my mind had quite caught up — this is big. Real.
“I’ll have to ask Raymond,” I murmured, half to myself.
“You won’t have to ask me anything,” came a voice from the stockroom.
I startled and turned as Raymond emerged, clutching a clipboard and his third smoothie of the day.
“You’ve got vacation days. Plenty. And I’ll get that temp girl from St. Claire to cover the register.”
“Raymond—”
“And anyway,” he said, jerking his chin toward the counter. “I don’t think you can say no.”
I followed his gaze.
There, like a casually discarded receipt, sat the envelope.
I blinked at it. “What—?”
“It’s a check,” Ansel said simply. “For Figments. Donation. Or sponsorship. Or… whatever makes the books stay on the shelves.”
Raymond raised an eyebrow. “How much?”
Ansel shrugged. “Enough.”
Raymond opened the envelope, skimmed it, and promptly choked on his smoothie. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Probably.”
“You know this is illegal, right?”
“It’s a gift,” Ansel said. “I didn’t buy the bookstore. Just bought a little time. Can a man not donate money to his favorite Seattle indie bookstore?”
I felt my face go up in flames. “Ansel—”
“I want you to come with me,” he said, softer now. “I want to slow down. Take a breath. Let it be quiet for a while. And I know you wouldn’t leave Figments without someone covering you, so…” He gestured to the envelope again. “Now you don’t have to worry about it.”
Raymond snorted, tucking the check into his back pocket. “For this much, I’ll run story time and alphabetize the nonfiction shelf myself.”
“Raymond.”
“I’m just saying, June, I’ve never had to Google how many zeroes there are in this many zeroes.”
“What?” I covered my face with one hand. “Oh, my god.”
“Go,” Raymond said. “Take the week. Take two. I’ll make this place a palace while you’re gone.”
“You’re really okay with this?”
“You’ve worked every weekend since you started. And he’s clearly obsessed with you. Take the stupid vacation.”
I swallowed, throat tight. “Okay.”
“You already said that,” Ansel murmured, smiling like he wanted to touch me. Like he wasn’t quite sure if he could yet.
“I know,” I said. “I guess I’m just saying it again. So I won’t take it back.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Early.”
“How early?”
“Early enough that you’ll complain about it.”
I smiled. Couldn’t help it. “Perfect.”
He left not long after — quietly; the envelope gone from the counter, the air humming like it remembered him.
I stood there for a long second, heart still pounding.
This was really happening.