Chapter Sixteen
Zoey
M y fingers are numb and cold and a trickle of ice moves down my spine.
I look at Suzanna who is so out of place in the no frills bar with her hot red dress and heels. She bounces a foot and tosses her hair over her shoulder and the men in O’Reilly’s devour every move.
Well, the ones who are straight and aren’t accompanied by any kind of other half. Although they sneak looks, too.
I make myself lift my chin and I shrug. “I don’t own him.”
“It’s not about ownership. You’ve kissed and…you should have seen that woman.” She grabs her breasts pushing up her cleavage and above the music a glass smashes.
We’ve done way more than kiss. I can still feel Magnus touching me. Magnus inside me. And—I don’t own him, like I said.
I’m sure if I say that enough it won’t hurt.
He told me—more or less—he was seeing his grandmother.
But again…I don’t own him.
“She makes me look flat chested.” Suzanna stops, and has the grace to blush. “I mean…look, I worry about you, and I’ve seen how you look at him.”
If I tell her he stayed last night, if I tell her what happened, she’s liable to find some kind of weapon and go Villanelle on him.
“I don’t look at him like anything.”
She leans forward and nearly knocks over the Jack and Coke she insisted I have. “You kissed him. And it’s me. You can’t lie.” Suzanna sighs. “I don’t want you hurt.”
“I don’t even know what was happening.”
“He was with some hot woman. What more do you want? I’ll maim him.”
“No. You won’t.”
“Look Bronn—”
“Was college. I’ve had other boyfriends—”
“Bronn was the big one.”
I sigh. “I wasn’t really in love with him. It was my ego. He betrayed me by cheating. That’s his type. Rich and an asshole. And Magnus…”
Stopping, I pick up my drink and take a sip.
Magnus is complicated. He works for me, but we’re not together. He’s transient. That man isn’t going to want to stay working in my store and I don’t expect him to. And I refuse to entertain the thought I’m not going to have the store. Or the building.
My feelings are complicated.
The ice and cold in me is linked to Bronn, but it’s the cheating. And I’ve been with guys, dated, had a boyfriend here and there, I’m not a nun, but…
To go from me to another woman is so skanky that I don’t want him near me. If that’s what happened.
I’m aware I’m floating above this, because what else is there to do? Fall apart? I don’t love Magnus. I don’t know him. Last night, today…that seemed to be him. It felt right, down deep in my bones. Not that he’s not him, the other him, the one who’s nice and pleasant. And I’m not saying that the man last night, the man today, wasn’t a nice guy. I’m saying that man felt real. That man had meat and depth and substance behind nice.
But what if that’s all an act and he’s some kind of philanderer?
I can’t ask.
Can I?
“Magnus works for me.”
Suzanna laughs. “With added kissing and a sprinkling of the bookstore version of office romance.” But she looks at me in total seriousness. “I want you happy, not hurt. So that’s why I told you.”
“Am I meant to ask?” I shake my head. “As I said, I don’t know what was happening, and—”
“He saw me and you can act like a cucumber from the crisper all you want, but you don’t fool me. You like him.”
“Thanks, Suze,” I say. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
She pins me with a look as something raucous and drum beat heavy starts up on the loud speakers. “How? Do you need moral support?”
“I’ll be fine.”
And how? I guess I’ll think of something.
“Anything you want to get off your chest?”
The next day, close to closing, Magnus finally comes down from the depths of upper hell where I sent him, sorting and pricing books.
These are the dusty ones that have been shoved up in the back of the storage room. I usually use those for sales, even though I know there are gems in there. I like that. The thrill of finding a table of books for sale for a couple of dollars and finding your version of the holy grail, or, you know, a gem, is fun. So those are the books I keep for those occasions.
I made him sort them, label the groups and put irrelevant prices on them.
Maybe, somewhere deep down, I am angry.
He told me he was seeing his gran. He must have seen Suzanna…although the woman he was with, Suze said she was hot. And for Suzanna to say that, the woman must have been smoking with a dash of extra ghost chili kinda hot.
But…even if his date was that level, Suze mentioned right off the bat he’d seen her. And he hadn’t said a word.
All day long I’ve waited, but not one word.
Then again, what’s he going to say, ‘hey, had a great time banging your brains out, but funny story, I had to run off to see this super-hot woman.’
And now he’s asking me if I’ve anything I want to say?
I squeeze my hands into fists, take a breath, and turn.
Magnus leans against the doorway where the stairs are, and the slow, low-lidded look he gives me makes my traitorous stomach flutter and things deep inside throb and sing with need.
He looks so good. That dark hair, those onyx eyes, the leanly muscled lines of him, those long legs in denim.
I might hate him.
I turn and stomp over to the counter. And I grab a cookie. They’re free. Giving them away, all of them, eats into my budget a little, but considering I usually give away at least half, it’s not a big deal. It’s just the principle of it.
“Are you pissed off about that visit?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he says, his hand closing over mine, “you’re staring at the cookie like it’s the worst criminal you’ve seen.”
“Maybe it is.” I take a vicious bite.
“Something is up. What is it?”
He’s behind me now and he feels warm and strong and there, and it would be so easy to just give myself over to the sweet bliss I know he can make bloom within me. “You need to stop that.”
For a moment I think he’s going to argue or pretend he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. But Magnus sighs and steps back, letting go of my hand.
And I’m not sure if I’m relieved or annoyed.
“Zoey.” Magnus leans on the counter near me. “Do you really think I’m the kind of guy to go from one woman’s bed right to another’s?”
The cookie crumbles into chunks as my fingers squeeze down. “I don’t know. Are you?”
Magnus straightens and rubs a hand over his face. “This thing with you and me—”
“There isn’t a you and me.”
“Then why are you so mad?”
“What makes you think I’m mad?” I sweep up the small pieces of cookie and dump them on the plate I used earlier.
“Everything.”
I glare up at him and wish I hadn’t. Because those dark eyes lock onto me and the tension and awareness in the air thickens and buzzes. My breath is caught hard in my lungs and the layers of him seem to treble. It’s like Magnus is both being caring and trying to work me out in a way that borders on calculating.
Or else I am mad.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you? I’m gonna assume you spoke to your friend.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Whatever you do outside of here isn’t my business.”
“Isn’t it?”
That expression in his gaze morphs into something larger, deeper, and I look away. “You know it isn’t. This is a bookstore. You’re not staying.”
“This isn’t about the store, or the job.”
“Look…that was yesterday, okay? A moment out of time. We…we fed a need in each other. It happens all the time.”
Magnus laughs and squeezes my hand a moment. “Zoey, of all the things you can say, you choose something so not you?”
“But you don’t know me.” I frown at him.
He raises a brow. “I work with you—”
“For what? Two weeks?”
“And I’ve watched you. I’ve an interest.”
“A passing one. I’m here.” I snatch my hand away and step back, and he doesn’t follow. No one is here in the store. It’s close to closing and Mondays are always slow. And I’m more than aware I’m feeding into my own defense mechanisms, but what else can I do? Let someone who’s transient in my life in beyond the physical? It’s already gone further with him than it should.
People think I’m soft, and I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t comprehend what’s good for me and what isn’t. And letting him touch me, getting to know me, getting to know him, that’s…that’s all good in its place. It’s good as long as I don’t attach meaning to it.
“And,” I continue before he can speak, “you can do whatever you like.”
He nods and a hardness comes to his gaze, almost like he’s angry. “So your friend tells you, what? She saw me out last night? I’m assuming that’s what happened because she’s that type. Loyal.”
“It’s not my business.”
“I didn’t sleep with Michaela. Whom I met last night.”
“We aren’t dating.”
Magnus frowns. “We had sex.”
“So?”
He just stares at me, like he’s going to say something, but instead he steps back, shaking his head and he pushes his hand through his hair. This time, when he looks at me, it’s the placid, nice Magnus.
“I guess nothing. Maybe I read more into it than I thought. But I never said anything because…” He blows out a breath and leans against the counter, folding his arms. “Because I thought you’d ask. I’ve known her for a while. But every time I tried to think of how to bring it up, it just sounded like an excuse since your friend saw us…and now I’m making a mess of things.”
The soft smile melts me a little.
“Magnus—”
The bell rings above the door and it opens. An old lady with a walker comes in and her eyes light up, even as she’s short of breath. She has pin curls and gray-white hair, and she looks from Magnus to me.
“Gran. What are you doing?”
My heart lurches sideways. Magnus rushes to her side, but she swats him away with ineffectual moves and I’m turning into goo at the caring and fussing he shows. Call me a sucker, but there’s something wonderful about a man who cares for his old grandmother. And it drives home what he’s done for her, because I suspect the things he’s told me have been so downplayed.
He might not be good at this job, but I’m betting he was fantastic at his chosen career, and…I’m letting my heart really get in the way.
“Stop your fussing, Magnus. I went out for a walk. I needed some air. And I thought…why not come see who the girl is you’ve been talking to me about? I’m Amanda, Magnus’s gran. Do you want to come over for dinner?”
There was no way I could say no.
The little rundown apartment is only a couple of blocks away, and it makes me hate the Sinclair family more. Because that’s who it’s owned by. And Edward Sinclair, my nemesis, is the owner and is jacking up the rent.
His gran—Amanda—tells me this in a loud whisper as Magnus deals with dishes. She pats my hand as she sits on her recliner. I look around at the place. It’s old and sparse and small.
She follows my gaze. “I can barely afford this place now. When my lease is up…” She sighs and shakes her head, giving my hand another pat.
“Your grandson’s going to do whatever it takes to stop that. And I’ll help, too.” There’s so much I want to say, there are things I wish I could do, but I can’t save her home. I can’t do anything.
“They wanted Magnus to move to London, did you know that? He tells me he wanted a change, so he left marketing, but I think he did that for me.”
It hurts for some reason, that idea of Magnus no longer in New York. But he’ll find something to fit his skills, and pay him more than I ever could. I don’t know why he doesn’t do that, anyway. And it’s not like we’re dating.
Then there’s the sadness and guilt in her gaze and I smile. “I think your grandson does whatever he wants to do.”
“I know. I just don’t want him to throw his life away.”
“I don’t think he sees you like that.”
“He won’t leave me, no matter what I say.” The old lady shakes her head. “It worries me.”
“He’d hate you to worry.” I smile as brightly as I can as I sit on the old sofa next to her. “There’ll be other jobs for him. He’s smart.”
His gran chuckles and coughs, breathing hard. Magnus comes running. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“No. Just like I told you when you came over last night. I’m fine.” She says this sharply, like it’s a conversation they’ve had a billion times, and it contains a warning tone. “Just worn out.”
“We need to head out, anyway,” he says. “C’mon, Gran. Go lie down.”
The old lady nods. “You’re a good boy. And I like her.”
“Gran…” He slides an embarrassed look my way.
Amanda lets him help her up and lead her away. “I hope to see you again, Zoey,” she says, “I like you…”
“I didn’t expect her to turn up,” Magnus says, walking me home.
It’s a quiet Monday in this part of Bushwick, for the neighborhood. There are a lot of apartment buildings perched on top of shops, and buildings with stoops that lead directly to the street.
We’re a block away from my store and home, but I stop. He stops, too. I look up at him in the streetlamps. “She’s lovely.”
I don’t know what it is I want to say, only there’s something there, pressing at me, and he’s watching, like he’s waiting to follow my lead.
“Yeah.”
“And she cares about you.”
“Zoey, thanks for coming.”
He touches my cheek and I almost sigh in the cool night air. “Of course.”
“Even though you’re mad at me.” Magnus smiles, flashing the dimple.
“I’m not…I…” I breathe out. “I…I don’t know why you don’t find something suited where you can make more money.”
He sighs. “It’s a rock and a hard place.”
“What is?”
He takes my hand and kisses it, and instead of making me swoon, it makes me frown. I like him. Okay, I can admit that, but I can’t let a man addle my brain.
“Work, looking after Gran, making ends meet at least until I can work things out.”
I nod. I’m halfway to letting myself accept this because it’s not my business, not really, when all of a sudden, I can’t stop myself.
“There are pieces of you, Magnus, that I can’t make fit, no matter how often I turn them.”
“People are complicated.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah, but you… Who is she to you?”
“Gran?” That smile again. “Or who I had to meet after I saw gran last night?”
My stomach knots. “Don’t play games with me,” I say quietly. “I can’t stand it and I don’t deserve it. So who is she and why were you at one of the most exclusive places in Manhattan?”