Repeat(71)

Three weeks later . . .




“Oh, I don’t believe this shit.”

“What?” he asks.

“What sort of monster would put Caraval in the adult fantasy section? It should be shelved in YA. It’s clearly a coming of age story.” I pass the book back to be added to the pile he’s already carrying. And I’m holding it there for just about forever before he grabs it. “Ed, keep up.”

“How about you slow down?”

“No, thanks.”

“Seriously, Clem—”

“Just because some books have grit and sexy times people think they can’t be YA. It’s ridiculous. Such an old-fashioned, out-of-date point of view.”

A heavy sigh from Iris over behind the counter.

“Thought you were happy to have me back,” I say.

“Clementine, my darling, I was delighted until I realized how cranky convalescing has made you.”

“Rest and recovery apparently doesn’t come easy to some people.” Ed follows along behind me, balancing a tower of books. “We’re very grateful you let her return.”

Iris snorts. “That’s because she’s been driving you crazy.”

“That’s true,” the traitor answers in his beautiful deep voice.

Whatever.

Iris finishes tidying up the till, bundling up a bunch of twenty-dollar bills. “I suppose I’d be bored silly having to lie around all the time and do nothing.”

“It’s not like I didn’t read the books you brought over. I read the whole The Others Series by Anne Bishop, and all the rest. But that much recuperating would drive anyone insane.”

“Some clearly more than others.”

“And I don’t blame you for the state of the shop, Iris.”

“What a relief,” she says drily.

“It’s whoever you let in here while I was away that needs a good kicking. No respect for our shelving system. And I’m not even going to mention what they did to the coffee mug display. How the whole lot hasn’t fallen down yet and smashed is beyond me.” I shuffle along carefully with a hand to my side. Sometimes I’m a bit sore, but no big deal. Broken ribs and stab wounds just take a while to heal. “The Secret Garden in gardening? Are you kidding me?”

Iris sniffs. “Antonio was just trying to help.”

“The man should stick to gelato.”

“Ed, please,” she says. “Can’t you give her a pill or something and make her go to sleep for a while?”

My boyfriend takes his turn at sighing.

“You know, you could go to the tattoo parlor,” I say. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

He stares down at me, nonplussed. Sadly, even this looks good on him. The sharp angles of his face and stern set of his mouth. “Within five minutes of me leaving you’d be doing something stupid like trying to climb a ladder.”

“I like to think I’m past the jumping counters and tackling people stage of life,” adds Iris. “Even if it’s for their own good.”

I open my mouth, but Ed gets there first. “Baby, don’t tell me you wouldn’t do it. I’ve seen you checking out those high shelves. If you need something from up there, I’ll be getting it down.”

“I’m a bit past climbing high ladders as well,” says Iris.

Like she doesn’t just want to check out his ass and gawk at the muscles in his arms as he reaches for stuff. The woman doesn’t fool me at all. She’s about as demure and frail as me. Which is not. Well, mostly. “You might as well put the books down on the couch, Ed. I’m going to need to sort them. By the way, I find it very hurtful that you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you just fine, but I also know you.” He sets the books down, then puts his hands on my shoulders, rubbing gently. “And I love you, which is why I’m sticking to your ass until I know you’re okay. Now, you’ve got another hour before I’m taking you home to rest. Okay?”

It isn’t the first time he’s said it . . . about loving me, not about only letting me work for a couple of hours a day. We actually fought quite heatedly regarding this matter. But it’s still highly thrilling to hear his regular outpourings of affection. Turns out that watching someone almost die is wonderful for making people push past their concerns and confess their true feelings. Though I don’t recommend stabbing yourself just to try and level up your relationship. For one, it hurts. And secondly, the medical bills are a bitch. The ones from the vet for treating the cut to Gordy’s head weren’t much better. Such a heroically good boy, helping to stop psycho Shannon. He’d even been allowed to hang out on the bed with me during the day once I got out of the hospital. Nurse Mike and Doctor Patel were less than delighted to have me back in with new injuries. But apparently such is life.

While Shannon didn’t have time during the attack to pour out the intricacies of her plan to me, she had shared them in depth with Detective Chen. How she’d oh so cunningly fed me a torrent of lies regarding Ed and Tessa spending alone time together in the back room and after hours. Right up to her secreting a thong in a little used top pocket of his jacket. Of course, she’d told me she’d seen Tessa slip it in there herself while Ed had the coat on. Guess previous me packed her bags and left rather than confronting him with the evidence. Highly doubtful I’d have listened to anything he had to say in his defense at that point, anyway. Shannon completely messed with my head, and this was even before the bludgeoning with a bottle. It’s amazing how insecurities can tear us apart.