Page 22 of You Make Me Feel
There’s another pause. Like he’s surprised at my thanks. Am I really that much of an asshole?
Apparently.
“Anytime.”
“Seriously, I couldn’t keep the gallery open without you. You’re doing a great job. I appreciate all you do.”
For a second Larry doesn’t say a word. He really isn’tused to getting praise. And I make an internal note to be a nicer boss to him.
“Yeah, well you’re a pretty cool boss.” He sounds stupidly happy. “I should go, there are a few customers looking around.”
“Sure. We’ll talk soon.”
Once he’s hung up, I stare at the phone for a minute, the thought of that letter making me feel restless. It’ll be for the appointment. For more tests at the university research center on the mainland.
Where I’ll most certainly get more answers than I’ll ever want to deal with.
Christ, this is melancholy. I stand up and shake my head, thankful that at least today there are no floaters impacting my vision. I need to get out of this room, to find something else to focus on.
Other than getting hard over imaginary chases and real women who quite rightly hate me.
My car is in the parking lot right outside the hotel, and I have my own private entrance that leads out to the gravel path along the edge of the building. I pull my sunglasses on, not wanting to take the risk with the bright sun, and press my car fob, the sensors on my BMW chirping as it unlocks.
It takes five minutes to drive to Main Street, and I spend most of it telling myself the only reason I’m driving there is because Autumn will kill me if I don’t actually do some work on this Art Trail.
And it isn’t because I’m fucking drawn to Sadie. Or that every time I read that book I think of her being turned on. Of her soft skin flushing, of her breath getting shorter as she gets even more excited.
Of how fucking hot she is.
I find a space a few doors down from the bookshop and pull in, cutting the engine and climbing out of the car. There’s a new art display in the gallery window. I scan my eyes over it. More seascapes. I guess that’s what sells.
And I’m reminded of how much a dick I was about her taste.
When I push the bookshop door open, there’s no sign of Sadie. Romy’s at the counter though, and when she sees me, she grins widely.
“Oh hello,” she says. “Zach, right? We meet in the flesh.”
So she recognizes me from the Bro’s Book Club video meeting then. “Hey.” I give her a big smile, because anybody who makes my brothers talk about their emotions deserves respect. “Is Sadie here? I need to talk to her about the art trail.”
Romy doesn’t blink, like she already knows I’m on the committee. Not exactly a shock – there aren’t many secrets on an island like this.
Except the ones I keep close to my chest.
“She’s in the back. Want me to let her know you’re here?” she asks.
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ll knock.”
She leans forward, putting her hand on her chin. “Have you startedJane Eyreyet?” she asks, like she can see into my fucking soul or something.
“Not yet. But there’s plenty of time, right?”
“A month. And it’s a big book.”
I lift a brow. “I think I can manage it.”
“We have the abridged version if you’d prefer,” she says. “Or you could try the audiobook.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got it.” I shake my head, trying not to smile, because maybe she can read my damn mind. Right now, reading that book is the last thing on it.
