“I should be home around ten,” I said. “Please leave the kitchen light on.”
“Okay, love. Drive carefully.”
“Always do.”
And wow, the temperature had dropped a lot. I parked on Main Street and began walking down Short Street. I quickly pulled my gloves on, wondering if Winter had gloves with him. That was something I could ask him. Another thing in my ever-growing list of things I should ask.
Small talk made me uncomfortable, but Dad was right. It was part of the getting-to-know-someone stage, and of course friends asked friends questions. Otherwise how would we know if we were even friends?
What if he liked things I couldn’t stand?
What if he believed in things that didn’t sit well with me? Like, what if he cared about money more than people? Although he seemed very kind to me, and he was caring by nature. I’d seen that with how he adopted Merry and Bright and cared for them.
What if he hated things that I loved?
Well, I already knew he loved the same book as me. And our TV show.
But what if he didn’t like Tolkien or Tolstoy?
What if he didn’t like pancakes?
What if he wasn’t single?
What if he had a girlfriend or a boyfriend? What if he was straight? That would be fine. I knew a lot of straight people, and I liked them just fine. But what if he didn’t like gay people? What if he...? Oh god, what if he laughed at me or sneered at me in disgust? What if he asked me to leave and never see him again?
What if he . . . ?
I was at the door to the bookstore but I couldn’t bring myself to knock. Maybe I should go home. Going home would be good. Maybe I should?—
The door opened, and Winter stood there, smiling at me. “Hey,” he said. Then he frowned. “What’s wrong? Deacon? Are you okay? Come inside out of the dreadful cold.”
He ushered me inside where it was nice and warm and closed the door behind me. Then he stood in front of me, his eyes wide and full of concern. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”
I shook my head, then squinted my eyes shut, seeing if everything was better when I opened them again. Winter was still looking at me, still standing very close, not touching me, but his hand was out as if he’d like to. “I just...” I licked my lips and started again. “I have questions and I’ve been trying not to think of them all day, but on the drive here, I thought of so many I should ask you and it overloaded my brain. Some of them not good. I’m sorry. I should go home.”
I expected him to look at me as if I was the weirdest person he’d ever met—it wouldn’t be the first time people looked at me like that—but no, there was only kindness and understanding.
“I was just making hot chocolate,” he said. “Would you like some?”
He was offering me hot chocolate? That wasn’t what I expected, but the change of direction was good for me.
And I really liked hot chocolate.
“Then afterwards if you still want to go home, you can,” he said. “Come through to the storeroom. It actually looks like a storeroom now, not a warehouse for cardboard boxes.”
I noticed then that most of the boxes were gone, most of the shelves were full, and it now resembled an actual bookstore.
It made me feel better. Somehow.Hemade me feel better.
“You got a lot done today,” I said.
“Well, most of it was with you last night. Today was mostly organizing and tidying, which helped. We only have those boxes to go through tonight,” he said, nodding to the boxes on and under the table. There seemed to be more signage on the shelves and stands on the service counter with bookmarks and fun trinkets.
“Is thatHowl’s Moving Castle?” I asked, going over to the small boxes of collectible characters.
“Yes, do you like it?” he asked from inside the storeroom.
“The movie, yes.”
