Ollie moved his hand again, pressing his thumb in the center of my foot. He took another sip before clearing his throat, averting his gaze to my feet in his lap. “When I fingered that girl, Leigh, I struggled to not imagine doing other things to her, you know. I wondered if she tastes like you. If my dick would respond to her the way it responds to you. If it would feel the same way.” He quickly glanced at me before downing the rest of his wine. “But then the drugs wore off, and I feel sick about it. Because there is no me without you. It would never be the same.”
I laughed. “So, you’re a guy?”
“Hey, I didn’t laugh about your thing. That took a lot for me to say out loud.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right. But, Ollie, that sounds completely normal to me.”
“It’s not. I have self-control. No woman can turn me on the way you can. But when I’m high on something, it’s like this savage beast takes over my thoughts. I’m so scared something’s going to happen with this whole Dex and Leigh situation, and you’ll leave me for good. That I’ll dig myself a deep fucking grave and have to lie in it without you.”
“I’ll bury you next to George Eliot,” I stated simply. “Tombstone etched with, “Here lies Oliver Masters, surrendered to the savage beast inside and killed off by his blood-thirsty wife … Hyphen, poet.”
Ollie lifted his finger in the air. “Can’t forget the poet part.”
“Never, and I’d never leave you, Ollie,” I added, settling his worries. “This life is full of making mistakes and growing from them. And I want to make mistakes and grow with you.”
Ollie lifted his wine glass in the air. “Here’s to spilling secrets, making mistakes, and kissing with wine-stained lips.”
And we cheered, kissed, and sat back like the conversation we’d just had was completely normal.
But after many seconds passed, Ollie lifted his head and returned his compassionate gaze to me. “Mia?” he whispered, calling my attention as his hands massaged my foot again. “I know, love. I’ve always known, and you never have to be afraid to talk to me about the things that go through your mind. No matter how dark, I’m here for it.”
The hours carried through the night. Ollie flipped the pancakes over, singing to The Beatles and wearing his black torn jeans with the button undone and his faded tattoos on full display. We’d switched out wine for coffee as the night played on, and he, finally, made this moment real for me. I held out a plate as he dropped two stacks over it. “You know what time it is, love?”
“It’s three A.M.”
He winked and pointed the spatula at me. “I told you we’d be here, didn’t I?”
I had very little obsessions, and the history of bookstores was one of them. When I’d received the phone call from Foyles, which was once the largest bookstore in the world, and they had invited me to do a signing, I’d jumped from the bed, waking Mia in the process. It had been at ten in the morning when I’d received their call, and we celebrated, jumping over the bed for an hour before rushing to get dressed so I could show off Foyles and bombard her with facts of their history the entire way to the store. The signing wouldn’t have been for a few weeks, but she had to see the place.
That was two weeks ago, and the memory of Mia and I walking across the brick storefront faded, and the long line of eagerly waiting readers took its place, clutching my book in their arms under canopies of umbrellas, hiding from the rain. “Foyles,” Travis stated, pulling up to the curb and shifting the gear into park. “This place is legit.”
“Thirty miles of shelf space. Used to be the largest bookstore in the world,” I went on, going over the same information I’d told Mia. I couldn’t help it. “Two brothers back in 1903, and now look. Over an entire century later, look at what it became. You know, William Foyles supposedly covered the roof with copies of Mein Kampf to ward off bombs during the world war. It means my fight, and a bomb dropped right across the street, left a big crater. While they were fixing it, William fed the sappers to sandwiches and ginger beer while they worked, and when the bridge was completed, they named it Foyle Bridge after him. Cool, right? Human kindness can go a long way, making and marking a dent in history.” I pried my eyes away from the brick storefront and crowd to see Travis’s mouth pressed together and brows twisted. “What? It’s interesting.”
“It’s annoying. Tell me, when you swallowed the encyclopedia, was it before or after your collection of history books?”
I’d forgotten my audience and opened the car door, wiggling my brows. “Whatever, man. Mia eats that shite up like it’s candy.”
The atmosphere inside Foyles was the opposite of Daunt Books. With four floors, clean and modern lines, crisp white walls, and glass railings, books became the main focus and only color inside the large building, which expanded over 37,000 square feet. My table rested on the bottom floor under words that read, “Welcome book lovers, you are among friends,” and after Laurie, Travis, and I set up, a Foyles’ employer allowed the line of people in from the rain outside.
My second book signing and Mia couldn’t be here to experience it with me. It pained her not to be here, but Cora’s mum had a bad day yesterday and was in the hospital. Mia had been there all night and had messaged me this morning, saying she was bringing Cora back to the house so the two could get some shut-eye. I’d told her there would be plenty of other opportunities with events.
For hours, I’d signed, smiled, and took photos as Travis kept the line moving along, and about halfway through, I’d felt myself slipping.
I pushed my fingers through my hair when Laurie placed a tea in front of me, one from the café located inside the bookstore, knowing I was slowly losing it. She fixed the black-rimmed glasses covering her eyes and leaned down to my ear. “You only have an hour left, then you’re done.”
Nodding, I forced a smile as another girl approached the table.
Though I was utterly grateful for their support and presence, the excitement overload tested my nerves and stole my energy. It had been enough to cause my hairline to sweat and my vision to defy me. I sipped the tea before signing the next book, pushing my forehead over the sleeve of my shirt.
The next person tossed my book over the table, and two large hands gripped the edge as he leaned over. “We need to talk,” he said.
I glanced up from my tea until my gaze settled on Ethan Scott.
My jaw clenched as he and his red hair violated my space.
It was the anger I’d felt first. A searing white heat rolled over my skin in waves, and I had no control over my next actions. Ethan was the reason I was in this bloody mess with the Links, to begin with. The Leigh Situation. Dex Sullivan. The death of my brother. All to get Mia back from him. He was the reason Mia had once questioned me, our relationship, and even herself. She’d been through Hell’s fire and came back with even more internal injuries than before, and his sinister eyes caused my fingers to twitch and my mind to blackout.
The table flipped up, tea spilling, and hands grabbed my shirt, attempting to yank me back as I launched at him. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” I seethed, balling the neckline of his shirt into my fists and walking him backward against the line of people.