Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Vi? Is everything okay?”
Vi startled, ripping her gaze away from the bookshop window. “What?”
Triss leaned back against the counter, fiddling with her succubus tail. “You just . . . zoned out. For the second time. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She let go of her tail and reached forward, like she was going to put her hand against Vi’s forehead.
Vi stepped back like Triss was holding a lit poker. “I’m fine! Sorry, Triss. I’m fine. Thanks again for coming in on such short notice. What were you saying?”
She forced her gaze to stay on Triss’s face and not on the window, waiting uselessly for Nick Wicker to ride past on his motorcycle.
He was probably at home anyway, nursing the flu he’d mentioned in his text last night.
There were moments when Vi thought he might be lying, feeling too awkward to see her, but the more time passed, the more she thought he was telling the truth.
Duncan mentioned that he looked pretty worse for wear when he’d dropped by the other day to drop off soup.
She wished she could stop thinking about him. It was getting bad. She’d jerked awake last night thinking he was calling for her. Then when she got dumb enough to actually peek out the window, there was nothing. Of course there wasn’t.
“Vi?”
Vi blinked. She’d zoned out again. “God, Triss, I’m sorry. What was that?”
“I said now that my cleaning job is down the tubes, I’m all freed up,” Triss repeated.
She picked up a stapler from the counter, opening and closing it absentmindedly.
Making it bite. Sometimes Vi came to work on Monday and found Triss had labeled all their stationery with the label maker.
The stapler still had a faded label across the side: BITEY MCMETALSON.
“Right,” Vi said. “Remind me how that happened?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you that yet. I nearly blinded myself because my boss didn’t give me protective equipment when I was working with bleach.”
“Wow. Are you okay?”
“Yeah! I washed it out. Good thing I did, because my boss said I didn’t need to, and Dr. Gert said if I didn’t, I’d be down one eye!” Triss hooted with laughter, miming an eye patch. “But it’s cool, I’m cool. Hyped to get my evenings back, hyped to talk about books! What do we have coming up?”
“Nick had—” Vi stopped, craning her head to watch a motorcycle go past. Not Nick’s. “Um, they’re going to do Pride and Prejudice next.”
“Nick picked that one?”
“He did,” Vi replied, still watching the road in the corner of her eye.
Triss laughed, spinning Bitey McBiterson in her hands. “Whoa! Ambitious.”
Vi blinked. “Excuse me?”
Triss shrugged. “Heard he wasn’t much of a reader, is all.”
She kept spinning the stapler, pulling it apart, sliding it back together, like she wasn’t reminding Vi of every regret she had about the past few months.
Nick’s face appeared in the forefront of her mind, withdrawn and guilty in the silence of the bookshop after Vi had yelled at him.
Nick bending close to Gilbert and whispering about his built-in panther buddy.
Nick smiling stiff and fake at the hospital, Nick smiling wide and goofy and real as he offered to make her pancakes.
His hands going dark green in the cold, his keen eyes, his big, calloused fingers, so gentle as they undid her hair from its ribbon.
“No,” Vi heard herself say. “He was good. He wasn’t . . . It didn’t come naturally. But his heart was in it. He was getting really good.”
Her voice broke on the last word. Triss looked at her with a fair amount of panic, the way anyone would when your higher-up whom you didn’t know very well started tearing up in front of you.
“Are you—” Triss winced, like she really wished the answer would be yes “—sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Vi croaked, forcing her tears back through sheer force of will. “I’m—I’m fine. This is allergies.”
“Oookay.” Triss reached out hesitantly, like she was going to touch Vi’s shoulder. She didn’t look excited at the prospect.
Vi stepped out of range. “I’m going to organize the fiction overstock.”
“Okay,” Triss said, sounding extremely relieved as Vi walked off, eyes still burning.
* * *
Vi stared at her phone all weekend. While getting dressed, while brushing her teeth, while she was eating breakfast. She typed out texts and then deleted them:
You can still come along to book club if you want. We missed you the other night.
You haven’t been in touch with anybody since you got sick. Are you okay?
We’re still friends, right?
You said I could get a motorcycle lesson anytime. Is that offer still open?
Her phone vibrated constantly: Emma thanking Vi for covering both quiz nights last week, or Heath checking if she could lock in next Saturday for the food bank—with Nick sick, Vi was back to her usual level of commitments.
She had no idea if that was going to change.
But every time the bell over the bookshop door dinged, she spun around expecting Nick with apology brownies.
It was never him.
Once, however, it was Jared Wessen, who looked bewildered to see Vi turn to him with such enthusiasm.
“Wow,” Jared said, smiling with too many white teeth. “Expecting someone else?”
Vi forced a laugh, putting away the returns sheet she’d been working on. “Hi, Jared. Good to see you. How are you?”
“Great.” Jared strolled over and leaned on the counter like he owned the place. “Can I ask you an odd question? I think I already know the answer.”
“Shoot.”
“Are you seeing Nick Wicker?”
Vi’s smile wavered. Then she pulled it back up, because she was a professional.
“Nick? No,” she said, proud of how steady her voice was.
Jared nodded, looking relieved. “I didn’t think so. You don’t seem the type to leave hickeys.”
“He has a hickey?” Vi said weakly.
“That’s what I heard,” Jared replied. “My coworker saw him yesterday morning at the bakery with a giant hickey on his neck.”
Vi stopped herself from saying what she wanted to say: I thought he was sick. Sick people didn’t go out and get hickeys. Maybe he was feeling better.
Jared barked a laugh. “I know, right? What are we, high schoolers?” His other elbow joined its twin on the counter, leaning hard toward Vi.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he continued. “I mean, I was hoping you might want to go out. You and me. Properly this time. No coffee. Dinner and a movie tomorrow?”
He looked at her easily, no nerves or avoidance.
He looked at her straight-on, and he didn’t see anything past the wall Vi put up for the world to look at.
But . . . maybe he had hidden depths. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough of a chance back on their boring date when he’d talked about stocks and bonds and how expensive his watch was.
She doubted it, but she had also doubted Nick.
Maybe Jared Wessen could surprise her, too. And he wanted to date her.
The Vi of a few months ago would’ve told Jared no automatically. The Vi of now took a risk, because she could do that now. She could be brave Vi, taking chances and letting her guard down. Old Vi had already given Jared a chance, but maybe she only had to look deeper.
“Sounds great,” she said, with a chipperness she didn’t feel.
If he noticed, he didn’t show it. But Vi would bet he didn’t.