How can I be me if I can’t see?
And I thought of Heathcliff, who had left behind a love so great it had torn his soul in half. Of Morrie, who had lost the only arch-nemesis who could match his intellect. Of Quoth, who was a mystery even to himself. I’d intruded on their world, but they’d welcomed me like an equal and shared their secrets with me. And I thought, maybe it was no accident we four found each other. Maybe they needed me as much as I was growing to need them.
We were so different, but we were the same – four lost souls trying to figure out who we were now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When I returned from the bakery for our breakfast order, Mrs. Ellis was holding court outside, delighting her audience with tales of the sordid goings on within the bookshop of ill-repute. I’d have thought it hilarious if her words didn’t hit so close to home.
If I wasn’t secretly lusting after three guys.
I snuck around the back to avoid Mrs. Ellis’ gleeful tales. Heathcliff let me in. He presented me with a tiny black key.
“I got it cut for you yesterday,” he said. “You can use it whenever you want. Even if… even if it’s not work hours.”
“Thanks.” The gesture touched me, partly because I knew how hard it was for him to let someone new into his life. Heathcliff’s black eyes looked right through me, like he could read all the thoughts running around in my head. Which would be bad, on account of how little clothing he wore in most of them.
“Just don’t go snooping through my stuff when I’m not here,” he added.
I smiled. “You’re never not here.”
Heathcliff stepped back to let me in. Quoth swooped down from a dark corner and zoomed between us, making a beeline for the oak tree in the center of the village green.
“Where’s he going?” I asked.
“Only the wind knows,” Heathcliff replied. “He’s been all weird and silent all night.”
“He’s always weird and silent.”
“Not like this. He asked me if he could put some of his paintings up in the shop. Withprice tags.” Heathcliff’s savage features winced at the idea.
“That’s a good thing. Quoth’s an amazing artist. I bet people will buy his work.”
“Of course you’d say that,” Heathcliff glowered. “You’re the one giving him dangerous ideas. I bet you won’t be the one consoling him when nothing sells.”
“Right, as if you know how to console someone.”
“I know how to hand them a bottle of wine. Don’t sit with him in public again. You’re a bad influence.”
Grinning, I followed Heathcliff into the shop. We sat down at his desk and I spread out my bakery purchases. “No Morrie today?”
“He’s following a lead. Apparently, that ring is from Debenhams, so he’s gone to the nearest store to see if he can find out who purchased it.”
“Oh, interesting. That means it probably wasn’t part of a fashion show goody bag. Did he say if he thought it was relevant?”
Heathcliff sipped his coffee and opened his ledger. “Honestly, I wasn’t listening. Morrie talks a lot, and most of it is self-congratulatory bullshit.”
“You’re not wrong about that. What’s on the agenda today?”
“We’re opening. We can’t afford not to. You okay with that?”
“I’m the one who’s been telling you to open!”
“Keep talking lip and I’ll make you give tours of the murder site,” Heathcliff growled, leaning back in his chair and opening a book.
My jaw dropped.Did he really just say that?
“Um, if that was a joke, it was a bloody horrible one.” I folded my arms. A tense silence descended between us.
