Chapter 11
Ada
My day is spent resting like Thea instructed, sticking mostly to my bedroom to avoid Norrell.
It figures, the moment I put my plan in place, he decides to accompany me out somewhere.
Under the guise of helping, of course. Moon and stars, I should know better than putting myself in such a stupid position.
Plans should not be made while under the influence of a great deal of pain.
I plop down on the stool at my vanity, an assortment of pots and spray bottles of potions in front of me I’ve brought home from my shop.
I eye myself critically in the mirror. My hands squeeze and stretch at my cheeks.
I’m beginning to look as dull as I feel.
Weeks without magick are taking their toll.
Twisting the cap open and scooping out a dollop with my finger, I smooth a rejuvenating serum across the skin of my face and down my neck.
It gives the skin a healthy, youthful glow.
Its effects compound over time to look even better.
The magick works immediately. I look refreshed, but I still feel low on the inside.
Next, I spray a shine and volumizing potion into my long, straight hair.
My natural dark red color looks flat and my white forelock, courtesy of Mayweather genetics, seems frizzy even after applying the spray.
My fingers comb through my hair one last time.
There aren’t enough beauty products in the world to fix this right now.
Since i’s nearly time to leave, I change out of my lounging clothes into a pair of navy-blue twill wide-leg pants and a cream knit short-sleeved top.
My foot and ankle are still a little swollen, so I gently pull on a pair of tennis shoes, loosening the laces on the right shoe so it’s more comfortable.
I want to look casual and not at all like this is some kind of date.
A shudder runs through me just thinking about it.
He is still so handsome it hurts to look at him, the most attractive male I’ve ever seen.
His beard lends extra gravitas to his already dignified face.
He looks more mature than before but looks can be deceiving.
Maturity doesn’t alter the fact he cruelly walked away from me, his ex-mate.
Former mate. Whatever we are. It’s so unusual there isn’t even a proper term.
It’ll be good when he’s gone. I’ll no longer need to deal with these thoughts.
I head downstairs to gather everything that I’ll need.
The large cloth bags are stashed under the kitchen sink.
I stuff a few cardboard containers inside that I intend to return to a vendor.
The cats watch me as they wait anxiously at their bowls for dinner.
I chuckle at their habitual impatience and grab two cans from the cabinet.
Their little faces crowd the bowls as I scoop the food into them.
With that task out of the way, I check my fridge and pantry, making a quick list on my phone of everything I need.
The front door opens, and from the rhythm of the footsteps, I can tell they’re Norrell’s.
Planning to meet him in the foyer, I move toward the kitchen doorway, only to almost collide with his broad frame.
He takes hold of my upper arms, halting me so I don’t march face first into his chest. I look up at him, slightly dazed by the abrupt contact.
He must have been walking faster than I realized.
“Careful, my…” He clamps his mouth shut and drops his arms as I take a reflexive step backward. “I am sorry,” he corrects himself. “I did not mean to run into you.”
I refuse to let him rile me up. I have an idea of what he was going to say. It nearly sends a shiver of longing through me. “That’s alright. No harm done,” I respond with a tight close-lipped smile.
“Are you ready?” he asks. His eyes search mine uncomfortably.
“Yes, let’s head out.” I school my face and gesture for him to lead.
He holds the front door open for me and follows closely behind as we walk over to the Wagoneer.
Walking isn’t painful, but I’m moving slower than usual.
Digging through my purse, I pull out my keys and hand them over to him.
It’s been ages since I’ve ridden in the passenger seat.
It’s an odd feeling being in such close quarters with him again.
He starts the automobile and pulls out onto the street like it’s been a matter of days and not years since he’s driven it.
It creates an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach, nostalgia for that happier time mixed with resentment that he can jump back into my life so seamlessly.
My house, my cats, my automobile. What’s next? Not a chance it will be my bed.
The street in front of town hall teems with vendors.
There are usually twenty-five to thirty each week, many selling their wares here in lieu of a storefront shop.
We’re out of retail space downtown. Luckily, the new development currently underway past Howling Road will offer more opportunities for those who want to expand outside of the farmers market.
Norrell parks the Wagoneer as close as he can to the market.
The short ride was quiet, but not as awkward as I feared.
When he cuts the engine, he motions for me to wait and runs to my side to open my door and help me out.
My mind struggles to find a reason not to take his proffered hand, to bat it aside and step out of the car by myself.
So I don’t fight him on it. I told myself I’d play this game.
When my hand clutches at his larger, calloused one, he almost envelops it fully in his fist. The hold provides enough leverage so I can gently lift myself out of the automobile, avoiding any pressure on my ankle.
I snatch my hand away the moment I’m upright.
The sensation of our joined hands was too familiar for my liking.
“Let’s start at this end,” I tell Norrell as I motion toward the side where we’re parked.
I peruse each vendor, stopping periodically to look at new items on their tables.
Not only do I intend to shop today, but I also want to talk to the organizer about a booth for Sunny and her cosmetic charms and potions.
It would be a good opportunity if she ever wants to run her own shop one day.
She’s been so helpful to me, especially with everything that’s happened.
Gathering this information on her behalf is the least I can do. I haven’t mentioned it yet because I’m not sure whether the organizer is accepting new vendors right now.
Norrell holds my bags, which are still mostly empty.
I buy a lot of my groceries here. Those vendors set up at the other end of the market.
He stands to the side while I browse a table full of tea blends.
Since the season is slowly changing into colder weather, I compare the labels of some of their spicier winter varieties.
A choked noise from Norrell’s direction startles me.
His head snaps to the side with knitted brows, and his mouth hangs open in shock.
From behind him, I see manicured fingers dance down his shoulder.
Marieke, a selkie who for a time was frequently seen on Clancy’s arm, steps out from behind Norrell and gives him her most seductive grin with her full red lips.
Norrell looks scandalized and takes a step back.
“I didn’t realize such a big male would be so shy. Don’t worry, I know just how to bring you out of your shell.” She giggles, pushing her long shiny black hair behind her shoulder.
“That will not be necessary,” he stammers.
“I don’t think I know you. Are you in town for that long meeting? I’m sure you’re feeling awfully lonely,” she presses, reaching out to lightly trace her fingernails down his arm.
He pulls away again sharply, stepping onto the street. “I am not interested,” he reiterates, his tone even more rigid.
She shrugs and saunters away, her curvy hips swaying in her tight dress. “Your loss,” she calls out witheringly over her shoulder.
Despite her forward overtures to males, Marieke is not unlikeable most of the time.
She just enjoys male attention… a lot. But my jaw clenches and my eyes burn suspiciously as she walks away after coming on to Norrell.
My patience for her is wearing thin right now.
I’ve stood here stunned and unblinking watching the entire exchange.
Norrell seems as taken aback as I am. His eyes finally flash to mine with a troubled look.
“Ada, I had no idea that was going to happen,” he sputters. His hand reaches out to me, but he pulls back before it touches me, closing it into a fist and dropping it to his side.
“That’s Marieke. Go ahead and talk to her if you want,” I grouse.
“No, she is not the female for me,” he practically snarls.
Something feral blazes through his eyes as he tells me this.
His face leans closer to mine and our eyes lock.
When it dawns on me that he may try to kiss me, I fling myself away before I do something stupid and let him.
My memory snaps back to that moment in the foyer so long ago, pleading for him to stay.
His cold, emotionless face as he left the house told me everything.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know what your type is anymore,” I retort. I’m being flip, but I can’t play nice right now. There goes my plan, couldn’t even last a day. A pained expression crosses his face. I ignore it and tromp past him to the next vendor.
Sensing him on my heels, I speed by a couple more as fast as my ankle will allow.
He isn’t relenting and keeping pace only a few steps behind.
Spinning toward him and forcing him to an abrupt stop, I put my hands on my hips and glare.
“This isn’t working for me. Just take me home,” I grit through my teeth.
“Please, let us talk for a moment first,” he urges.
“You won’t want to hear what I have to say,” I warn him.