Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Bookstore
The next day, I banged on Poet’s apartment door. “Poet!” I knocked again. “Poet! Poet! Poet!”
The door opened and a bleary-eyed, hair-askew Poet appeared.
“What time is it?” she demanded as she stepped back so I wouldn’t run her over when I blew into her apartment.
“Eight thirty,” I remarked.
“Oh,” she murmured. “Why are you—hang on.”
Poet dashed toward the bathroom. While she was puking up her guts, I closed the apartment door and then went to the cabinet to pull out two small plates. I set the Sweet Teeth bakery box onto the counter and waited.
The door to the bathroom opened and a wan Poet came out. She’d gathered her hair into a messy ponytail and had put on her glasses.
“What did you bring?” she asked.
“A bribe.” I lifted the box. “Eclair?”
She shook her head. “The idea of Bavarian cream makes me queasy. I need the chocolate donut.”
“Right.” I plated the donut and then gave it to her. She took it to the little café table with two chairs that was considered the breakfast nook. Well, the whole apartment felt like a nook.
“Milk,” Poet said.
“On it,” I replied.
Once I was settled in the other seat, I finally said, “Archer and I had sex. Again.”
She blinked. “When?”
“Friday night,” I admitted. “After your bookstore opening. And then the middle of Friday night. And then Saturday morning. Lenni was sleeping over at a friend’s house and without her there, we kind of . . . yeah.”
“So, you’re boinking like bunnies,” she said as she tore off a piece of her donut.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“So, the penis embargo is officially over,” she said.
“Yes.” I winced.
“When are you telling Lenni that you guys are dating?”
“We’re not telling her,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because her life has been completely chaotic the last several months. It’s not fair to her.”
“Not fair for her to know what, exactly? That you and her father love each other?”
“Love? Archer doesn’t love me.”
“No?”
“No.”
“What makes you think he doesn’t love you?” she asked.
“He hasn’t said it.”
“Because you have a habit of not believing men, for good reason.”
“True.”
“So even if he did say he loved you, you wouldn’t believe him. But do you really think he would’ve crossed the line with his daughter’s nanny if he didn’t love you?”
“My head hurts,” I muttered.
“Why don’t you want to tell Lenni?” She paused and then her brow unwrinkled. “You’re worried that if you tell her, that means the stakes are real and you’re scared it’s going to end and then there will be three broken hearts instead of two?”
I rubbed my third eye.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” she pressed.
“You’re right.”
“Or . . .” she began.
“Or what?”
“Or this actually works out for you. And you get to be one happy family.”
“I don’t have that kind of luck.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to sabotage this before it really has a chance to start.
” She picked up her glass of milk and took a drink.
“So, what is it, Wyn? In one breath, you say you’re taking a break from dating because you’ve had rotten luck.
But just as your luck changes, you’re cowering in a corner. You can’t have it both ways.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is exactly that simple,” she said with a nod.
“He’s going to get sick of me. Sick of my crap,” I said.
“Why would he?”
“Because I’m sick of my crap,” I stated.
“You can’t change your wiring. The reason you keep being disappointed in the love department is because you don’t have any self-preservation.
You don’t guard your heart. And I think that’s beautiful.
You’ve tried to love in the past, but if you really admit it, you’ve never felt this way about a man before. Archer is different. You know he is.”
There was a knock on the apartment door.
“Get that, will you?” Poet asked.
“Who is it?”
“Salem and Hadley, of course,” she said. “I texted them in between bouts of puking.”
“You texted them! Why?” I demanded.
“Because they’re also your best friends. And your best friends need to talk some sense into you.”
“That’s the problem! A big heart and no sense.”
Poet rolled her eyes. “Answer the door, Wyn.”
With a sigh, I opened the door and my two happy, very pregnant friends entered.
“We came to offer support,” Salem said.
“And we bring libations of the raspberry leaf kind,” Hadley stated, holding up a jar of loose-leaf tea. “By way of Muddy.”
“Oh, yum,” Poet said, rising.
Salem shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the coat hook. “No animals to greet me?”
“Brooks took Lottie to work,” Poet said.
“Archer took Mildred to work, too,” I stated.
Salem looked at me. “Empty nest, huh?”
“Let’s get down to business,” Poet said. “I texted you guys for a reason.”
“Why would you text—” Salem’s eyes widened as she looked at me. “Oh my God. You had sex with him again, didn’t you?”
I winced. “Kinda, yeah.”
“What do you mean kinda? You either did or you didn’t,” Hadley stated.
I sighed. “We had sex. Twisty-pretzel, so-good-I’m-now-addicted sex.”
“When?” Salem demanded.
“You guys keep talking,” Poet said as she rose from her seat. “I have to shower and get ready to open the bookstore.”
“You can’t shower now,” Salem stated.
“I already know all this,” Poet said with a wave of her hand. “So, carry on.”
She slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.
Salem and Hadley looked at me and waited.
“What?” I demanded. “What do you want me to say?”
Hadley leaned back in the chair and placed a hand on her belly. “So, you guys are together now, right?”
“He says we are,” I admitted. “I don’t know though . . . It’s all so messy. And then there’s Lenni to think about.”
“Have you told Lenni about you and Archer?” Hadley inquired.
Poet opened the door and yelled out, “No. Because Wyn is using her as an excuse not to get too close, but it’s too late for that because Wyn loves Archer.”
She shut the door again, disappearing.
“Wait, you love Archer?” Salem asked. “Like officially?”
“Yes,” I replied glumly. “That’s the diagnosis.”
The bathroom door opened again, and Poet called out, “She also loves Lenni and is worried about bringing more instability to her life if things don’t work out between her and Archer.”
“What is this, a Molière play?” I demanded. “Either get in the shower or get out here.”
“Talk sense into her,” Poet commanded. “I’m showering now, I swear.”
The door shut again.
“You know what I do when I’m scared?” Salem asked.
“Emotionally blow up everything around you and then let the three of us clean up the mess?” I asked in amusement.
“Well, yeah, I used to do that.” Salem nodded. “But now I let Cas clean up the mess. But when I’m scared, I force myself to take a giant leap into the unknown.”
“You gotta face your fears, Wyn. Look down the barrel of the gun,” Hadley said.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said. “What am I supposed to do? Tell her that her dad and I are dating? It might not work out.”
“What if it does?” Hadley asked.
“You sound just like Poet,” I grumbled.
The bathroom door opened. “Yeah, she does!” The door immediately closed again.
“This is insanity,” I muttered. “I love you guys. I really do. But you do not get to dictate how I handle this.”
“You’re not handling it at all,” Salem pointed out. “You’re evading.”
“Gee, who does that sound like?” I taunted.
“You’re mean when you’re scared,” Salem stated as she reached for the rest of my sour cream donut.
“I’m leaving,” I announced, standing.
“Don’t go,” Hadley pled. “Salem has no filter now that she’s pregnant.”
“We can’t blame the baby for Salem’s lack of filter. Salem has never had a filter,” I commented.
“That’s why you love me.” Salem beamed.
“So, what are you going to do?” Hadley asked.
“For the time being? I’m going to keep having twisty-pretzel sex,” I said. “Other than that? I’ve got no idea.”