Chapter Twenty-Six
Zoey
R eality always returns with a bang or a whimper. Whatever. It always returns. And it can’t keep the warmth inside me from wanting to burst open.
I haven’t seen Magnus since I got back. That’s not unusual since it’s the weekend and I’m sure he’s spending time with his gran. I know he is, because…he called me last night.
For a moment I wondered if he had something he wanted to say, but instead it was one of those conversations that meandered over everything. Like dreams, and I told him I’m living it.
The bookstore, he’d said.
I agreed but as I snuggled down in my bed, listening to the low, rich cadence of his voice against my ear, I meant more than that.
Even if this thing with him is fleeting, it’s a dream.
That’s something I’ll never tell him.
Magnus doesn’t belong in my life, at least not the way he is. I know he has hopes and dreams like everyone else, even though all he said was he wanted to make sure those he cared about were happy, would lead full lives, he’s not made to work in a store.
But my stupid heart hopes there will be room for the two of us.
Room in whatever his next adventure will be for maybe a chance.
That’s all I want.
I’m an idiot. But that hopeful idiocy is something I won’t let go of. Just like I won’t stop fighting the injustice of Edward Sinclair.
I sit at the little desk in the back even though the store is open. It’s too early for people to come in, and I turn on my computer. Amanda, his gran, never got back to me, not that she had to, so I log onto my account.
She took the money. Check deposited and the warmth in me rises.
The move is a risky one because it puts my business in a precarious situation, but only I know that. And it’s doable as long as I keep things on an even keel.
The bell on the door dings and I rush out.
The man coming over to the counter grins. “If I knew that smile waited, I’d have worn my best uniform, Zoey.”
“Thanks, Hank.” I take the bundle of mail from the postman and we make small talk for a minute until he has to continue on his route.
I hate standing around, so I set the mail down and start collecting the books in the box I have out to put on the shelves. And while I do it, I try not to think about the time as it ticks.
But it’s hard because with every passing minute, I keep thinking he’s not coming in.
When the bell rings again I whirl, but it’s Harry, who looks past me to the cookies with a hopeful expression.
“How are you today?”
“Still no rain, so things ache.”
“I hear you,” I say as I pick out the new knitting book I found in the sale. It’s the perfect thing, full of designs his wife would have made and I know he’ll enjoy spending time going over it. I place it on the counter and then slide it into a bag, and add a selection of the chocolate gingerbread and spiced orange and macadamia cookies.
He pulls out his wallet and goes to open it, but I stop him.
“My treat, Harry.”
“I’ll get you next time,” he says, drawing himself up to his full height. “Here, how bout I give you today’s paper?”
“Sounds like a deal.” I place the folded up newsprint on top of the mail.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
My cheeks start to heat. “He’s not my anything. And he hasn’t come in yet.”
“He’s a good one. If he isn’t, I’ll kick his behind for you.”
Harry winks and then makes his way out of the store.
I pick up the paper and my eye catches the headline.
Sinclair Scandal it says. I half glance at the story and the blurry photo, but it’s about Ryder Sinclair and I just don’t have the stomach for it. So I ignore it.
The bell dings loudly as the door flies open and my heart’s already beating like a wild thing as the pressure suddenly changes and even as I turn I know who’s there.
Magnus.
I look at him.
And forget how to breathe.
I’ve seen him naked, I’ve seen him clothed and wet, I’ve seen his clothes and dry and all of those are drool worthy. But this…
Oh boy.
Magnus Simpson is in a suit. It’s a dark gray suit, like deep charcoal, with a hint of warmth in its center. It is beautifully cut, even if the tie’s askew and his hair looks like his hands have worried it too much. He looks drawn and lack of sleep is etched on that beautiful face and I still can’t breathe because he’s the most devastating man I’ve ever seen in my life.
Like this, he looks like a stranger.
Except his eyes.
They’re worried, but they hold heat and intimate secrets lovers share and I know he’s moving on.
“My phone died. I’m sorry, I thought I’d be in earlier than this. I thought I’d be able to get changed.”
His words wash over me and I swallow. “Magnus, you…”
“Are you okay, Zoey?”
“You’re the one who looks like he hasn’t slept.”
He laughs softly. “You always think about the other person, don’t you? Never you? How the hell have you survived so long?”
“Tenacity?”
He comes over and brushes my lips with his, then reaches over the counter for the charger and plugs in his phone.
“Zoey, we need to talk.”
“You had a job interview, didn’t you?”
“The suit.” He closes his eyes a long moment, then looks at me. “I’m—”
“It’s okay. It’s good. Expected,” I say, the words rushing out.
“Zoey.”
I put on my brightest smile. “If you need to work here part time, that’s good.”
“You’d do that for me?” He asks, after a moment.
I nod. “Of course. And if you want to do that, or don’t want to work here, well, that’s good, too.”
“Monetarily?”
It’s the truth, it’s a lie, and the things I want to say are all jumbled up inside me. I’ve budgeted to have him, and I know I need someone to help, but maybe more part time like I first thought. But I don’t want him to go and I don’t want to hold him back, either. For reasons that have zero to do with money. I just nod.
Marcus touches my cheek. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Zoey. And…yeah, it was a job interview. Something that’ll help with gran, and give me time. But I can still be here with you. If I get it.”
I nod again as I realize what he’s said.
He wants to be with me. Spend time with me.
I’m not just falling in love with him.
I have fallen in love with him.
Magnus pulls off his tie and shoves it in his pocket. “Let’s get to work.”
I’m used to him here. I’m used to him in my life. It’s fast and it feels right and the shadows in his eyes make sense because he was worried over telling me about the job interview.
I pick up the pile of mail and the paper and they slip a little when I see the dreaded Sinclair name again. This time it’s on an envelope, but Magnus is frowning at it and takes it.
“It’s probably more empty threats,” I mutter as a customer comes in and he just takes the little pile from my hands and disappears into the back a moment.
When he comes out, there’s something a little different about him. The suit, no doubt. He looks out of place in my shabby bookstore in that outfit. I ring up the sale and he’s turning the envelope in his hands.
I snatch it from him and rip it open and pull out the sheet of paper, but Magnus takes it from me, his gaze scanning it. And he frowns, then looks at me. “Do you trust me?”
“What?” I reach for it but he holds it up high. “Give me that.”
“No, Zoey. I asked a question.”
His words are quiet, but there’s something deep inside them and I stop, dropping my hands to my sides.
“Yes, of course. But why?”
He taps the piece of paper against his palm. “Because I can deal with this.”
“I don’t know what this is.”
“It’s from EMS—”
“Sinclair the bully.”
“—about the work they did. It’s a charge, but I think I have an in.”
I frown. “What kind of in?”
My blood turns cold. Is he applying for a job with them? I mean, he can do anything he wants, obviously, but after all this, that feels like a betrayal.
“Just an in.”
And then I remember the job he helped Mikey get. “The charity angle, you know someone there.”
“Something like that. C’mon Zoey, let’s finish the day, I’ll do this and then I’ll take you to dinner. Somewhere small.”
I’m humming even though I shouldn’t be, even though something nibbles at the edges because I have a horrible feeling he’s going to get the job. And that makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?
Bad because even though I’m happy for him, I don’t want him to go, and he will.
“But that doesn’t mean out of your life, Zoey.”
No, it doesn’t and he was so sweet and wonderful all day. The man is complex, layered and I know I could spend a lifetime with him and never get bored.
I smooth my fingers down the dress I’m wearing. It’s a simple thing, flattering, with flouncy material in a dark blue dotted with black. And I even slip on heels and a little lipstick.
It’s probably overkill, but I want to look good for him. I want to feel pretty for me, too, and this time, I can admit it.
I check my phone and he’ll be here, soon, so I grab my bag and light coat and fly down the stairs and almost run into a man who’s lurking on my doorstep.
It’s not Magnus.
Tall, yes; handsome, yes, but in that pretty boy way that’s boring; blond.
The last man I expected to see and while not the last one, just one I don’t care about. “Bronn?”
He smiles the million-dollar toothpaste smile that melted me when I was young and na?ve. Now it does exactly zero. “Babe—”
“Zoey,” I say, clutching my bag, wishing Magnus were here, “is my name. Not babe.”
“It’s been a quick minute.” He takes a step towards me like I’m going to melt on him now. And quick minute? More like a quick number of years, but I keep that to myself.
“I’m actually busy, and I’m going to assume this isn’t a social call.”
“It can be both.” He gestures to the store. “I’m here with a proposition. I know Sinclair’s buying up everything and has a big project for this block, and I also know you’re the one in the way. For a price, I can make you so much money, and—”
“I’m going to stop you there. I’m not interested.”
Bronn’s gaze slides past me and his eyes narrow. “And I see why.”
“What are you talking about?” I turn and see Magnus standing there. He breathes in and starts coming towards us slowly.
Bronn nods with his chin. “You already sold. To Magnus Sinclair.”
The entire bottom drops out of my world.
My lips are numb as I try to form words, but I can’t.
“Of course you did. Magnus Sinclair gets everything.”
I stare at Magnus. It’s Simpson. But then I lock eyes with him.
EMS.
Edward Sinclair.
Edward Magnus Sinclair.
That’s what I’m betting.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“Zoey.”
It’s the way Magnus says my name that does it.
“Oh, God. You’re him. Edward Sinclair.”