Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Bookstore
Friday morning, I met my best friends at Poet’s bookstore that was opening to the public that night. Salem, Hadley and I were helping Poet with the kind of last-minute details that only came together right before a grand opening.
The beeswax candles in antique china teacups had finished curing and Poet asked me to arrange them into a display.
“No,” Poet said with a shake of her head. “Not like that. Like this . . .”
With a smirk, I handed the project over to her and then shot Salem a look.
Someone’s a little on edge.
“There,” Poet said as she stepped back. “What do you think?”
“I think you have a gorgeous bookstore and tonight everyone else will finally get to see it,” I said.
Poet had sent out invitations to every business in town and had also run an announcement in the Huckleberry Hill Crier, the town’s local paper. I had no doubt there would be a good turnout.
“Oh no,” Poet whined, her hand covering her mouth.
“What?” Hadley asked in concern. “What’s wrong?”
Poet ran to the back of the bookstore to the bathroom and threw up. The sound traveled across the space.
I wrinkled my nose. “Morning sickness or nerves?”
“Both!” Poet cried out before I heard another bout of vomit.
I went to the bathroom door and closed it gently. “Yeah, let’s just do that. Give you some privacy.”
“Wimp!” Poet yelled.
I stared wistfully at the closed door while my friend puked up her guts.
“What’s with you?” Salem asked.
I frowned when I looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, there’s something going on with you.” Salem’s gaze narrowed. “You’re hiding something.”
“No, I’m not,” I said.
“Oh, you so are!” Hadley said as she took a seat on one of the couches. She groaned in relief. “Ankles.”
“Here,” I said, taking a seat diagonally from her and patting my knee.
She kicked off her slip-on shoe and then placed her foot on my thigh. I rubbed the outer part of her ankle.
Hadley nearly purred.
“How do I get one of those?” Salem asked in amusement, taking the spot next to Hadley.
Poet came out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She was pale and shaky. “What are we talking about?”
“Wyn,” Hadley explained. “Salem thinks she’s hiding something.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” I lied, bowing my head and pretending to be very involved with Hadley’s ankle rub.
“You had sex with Archer!” Poet exploded.
My head shot up and I looked at her in shock. “What? I didn’t!”
Poet marched over to me, stood there for a moment, and then gently moved my turtleneck aside.
“Uh huh, just as I suspected,” Poet said. “Whisker burn.”
“Let me see!” Salem attempted to get up, but she flopped around in the deep crevice of the couch. “Help!”
Poet grabbed her hand and pulled and then Salem leaned forward so she could get a look at my neck.
“I thought something was weird when I saw you in a turtleneck,” Poet remarked. “You hate turtlenecks. But you had something to hide.”
“You tartelette!” Salem cackled. “You finally did it!”
Hadley pulled out her phone. “We owe Poet twenty bucks.”
“What?” I batted Poet’s hand away and she let go of my turtleneck. “You guys bet on how long it would be before I slept with Archer?”
“I was rooting for you, doll,” Hadley said with a smirk. “I thought for sure it would be at least a month. Way to prove me wrong.”
“I said three weeks,” Salem added with a sigh. “I should’ve known better.”
“I gave you ten days,” Poet said. She held out her palm toward Salem. “Money.”
“I don’t have cash on me,” Salem said. “Cas has it. I’ll get a twenty from him.”
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed. “He’ll ask what the twenty is for and then you’ll tell him you lost the bet and he’ll want to know what bet. And then he’ll know I slept with Archer because I’m a shameless hussy who can’t keep her legs closed.”
“You’re not a hussy,” Hadley said. “You’re in love with him. There’s a difference.”
I gently pushed her foot off my lap and leaned back into the chair’s embrace.
“I don’t hear you denying it,” Salem said. “So, are you in love with Archer?”
“Who the hell knows,” I grumbled.
“What happened?” Poet asked, finally taking a seat on the other couch.
“When did it happen? How did it happen? How many times did it happen?” Salem asked.
“Two days ago, on the living room floor. We were yelling at each other and then it turned carnal . . . but it only happened once,” I said, my tone flat.
“Oh.” Hadley raised her brows. “Why were you guys fighting?”
I explained about the angry message I’d left on Nancy’s voicemail and why.
“She called Archer,” I finished. “And then Archer confronted me.”
“He was mad that you called her?” Poet asked.
“Yeah, he was,” I said slowly. “I didn’t know all the details about what she’d done with Blair’s stuff. She’s not who I thought she was. And something about me acting like Lenni’s mom when I’m not . . . I don’t know. I still don’t think I understand what the fight was actually about. Not really.”
“Well, it’s obvious,” Poet said.
“Oh yeah? Explain it to me then,” I remarked.
“Archer wants you to be Lenni’s mom. Not just her nanny.”
“Those are the baby hormones talking,” I quipped. “You’re crazy.”
Hadley nodded her head. “I think Poet’s right.”
“Absolutely,” Salem agreed.
“Hang on,” I stated. “You can’t know that.”
“No?” Poet asked. “Have you met my fiancé? That man knew I was the one immediately.”
“What does that have to do with Archer?” I asked in confusion.
Poet rolled her eyes. “Men know pretty damn fast when they’ve met the woman they want to marry.”
“It’s true,” Hadley said. “Declan knew I was the one before I did.”
“Yeah, so did Cas,” Salem said.
“Fast and furious,” Poet explained. “I’d bet the money I won from Salem and Hadley that Archer wants you. Forever.”
“Now it’s my turn to use the bathroom,” I said.
“Don’t joke.” Poet frowned at me. “Why is this so crazy to you?”
“Because men don’t want me!” I snapped. “They say what I want to hear and the moment I let my guard down, they bail. My heart gets involved so fast and it has terrible taste in men because I believe them. I thought I had all this under control, you know? A penis embargo—dating hiatus. But I can’t help it!
I fell in love! He’s a stupid-hot love burglar who stole my heart!
God damn it, what the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me? ”
I buried my face in my hands and took a trembling breath.
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Poet said.
“Sex confuses things,” I mumbled. “And now I’m even more confused.”
The three of them were quiet for a moment and then Salem asked, “So how was the sex?”
I lifted my head and glared at her.
She nodded. “Got it. Best you’ve ever had. Say no more.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I muttered in exasperation.
“You don’t need to,” Hadley pointed out. “Your meltdown says it all.”
It had been so damn good that for the last two nights I’d been waking up with my sheets tangled and wet between my thighs.
It had been so damn good that it had taken everything in me not to get up and go to his room and beg for more.
But I was trying to have willpower. A spine. Self-worth.
And the moment I’d had sex with Archer, I’d thrown all that away.
Hadley giggled. “Love burglar. That’s funny.”
“He hasn’t mentioned love. Not once,” I said to my friends.
“Well, of course he hasn’t,” Poet said with a laugh. “Would you even believe him?”
I pondered her words. “No. I wouldn’t believe him. I gave him my two weeks’ notice. For real this time.”
“What? When?” Salem asked.
“Several days ago,” I admitted.
“Why’d you do that?” Salem demanded.
“Because everything was getting muddled. Lenni’s gotten attached and it’ll just be harder for her in a few months when they’ve settled into a routine and don’t need me anymore.”
“You mean you’ve gotten attached to them,” Poet said.
“I’ve been playing house,” I said. “And it’s going to blow up in my face.”
“So, you’re blowing it up on your own terms.” Salem nodded. “Oh, I so get that.”
“You would,” Hadley teased.
“Hey, I’m a reformed wild child,” Salem said. “I’ve settled.”
“Ha.” Hadley shook her head.
I looked at Poet. “What do I do?”
“Only you can decide if you want to put yourself out there,” she said. “You just have to decide if love is worth the risk this time. Who knows, you just might get everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Advice about bravery from my formally timid friend was a real kick in the pants.