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If I tell her he stayed last night, if I tell her what happened, she’s liable to find some kind of weapon and go Villanelle on him.
“I don’t look at him like anything.”
She leans forward and nearly knocks over the Jack and Coke she insisted I have. “You kissed him. And it’s me. You can’t lie.” Suzanna sighs. “I don’t want you hurt.”
“I don’t even know what was happening.”
“He was with some hot woman. What more do you want? I’ll maim him.”
“No. You won’t.”
“Look Bronn—”
“Was college. I’ve had other boyfriends—”
“Bronn was the big one.”
I sigh. “I wasn’t really in love with him. It was my ego. He betrayed me by cheating. That’s his type. Rich and an asshole. And Magnus…”
Stopping, I pick up my drink and take a sip.
Magnus is complicated. He works for me, but we’re not together. He’s transient. That man isn’t going to want to stay working in my store and I don’t expect him to. And I refuse to entertain the thought I’m not going to have the store. Or the building.
My feelings are complicated.
The ice and cold in me is linked to Bronn, but it’s the cheating. And I’ve been with guys, dated, had a boyfriend here and there, I’m not a nun, but…
To go from me to another woman is so skanky that I don’t want him near me. If that’s what happened.
I’m aware I’m floating above this, because what else is there to do? Fall apart? I don’t love Magnus. I don’t know him. Last night, today…that seemed to be him. It felt right, down deep in my bones. Not that he’s not him, the other him, the one who’s nice and pleasant. And I’m not saying that the man last night, the man today, wasn’t a nice guy. I’m saying that man felt real. That man had meat and depth and substance behind nice.
But what if that’s all an act and he’s some kind of philanderer?
I can’t ask.
Can I?
“Magnus works for me.”
Suzanna laughs. “With added kissing and a sprinkling of the bookstore version of office romance.” But she looks at me in total seriousness. “I want you happy, not hurt. So that’s why I told you.”
“Am I meant to ask?” I shake my head. “As I said, I don’t know what was happening, and—”
“He saw me and you can act like a cucumber from the crisper all you want, but you don’t fool me. You like him.”
“Thanks, Suze,” I say. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
She pins me with a look as something raucous and drum beat heavy starts up on the loud speakers. “How? Do you need moral support?”
“I’ll be fine.”
And how? I guess I’ll think of something.
“Anything you want to get off your chest?”
The next day, close to closing, Magnus finally comes down from the depths of upper hell where I sent him, sorting and pricing books.
These are the dusty ones that have been shoved up in the back of the storage room. I usually use those for sales, even though I know there are gems in there. I like that. The thrill of finding a table of books for sale for a couple of dollars and finding your version of the holy grail, or, you know, a gem, is fun. So those are the books I keep for those occasions.
