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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 naïve. Now it does exactly zero. “Babe—”
