“I’m sorry, Mina. Of course not! You were the closest friend she had. I just… I need to feel connected to her, you know?”
I sighed, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. At least hanging out with Darren would distract me from thinking about Heathcliff’s kiss and all the confusing feelings I had. “Yeah, sure, we can grab a drink, as long as you’re buying.”
* * *
“This is from a microbrewery just outside of town.” Darren snapped a picture of his pint with his phone, then pulled out a battered Moleskine notebook and jotted down a note. “It really should be served in a tulip instead of this stein, but some people just don’t understand the importance of these things. It has a nice body, caramel and blackcurrant notes. I can see why Ashley liked it.”
I groaned inwardly. Darren wasn’t kidding when he said he got into craft beer. As soon as we arrived at the Cock & Fiddle, he begged me to spill on Ashley’s favorite local brew. Since I knew Ashley never gave a shit about craft beer – a beer company gave her two grand to pose in her swimsuit with their special release brew, and since then she developed a bit of a cult following among beer geeks so she’d attempted to prolong the charade – I chose one at random, and now he was treating it like the Holy Grail. Her drink of choice was vodka cranberry, which I was sipping now.
All I could taste was Heathcliff. His tongue. His lips. His musky, peatyHeathcliffiness.
Heathcliff kissed me. Hekissedme.
That kiss waseverything. No wonder Heathcliff had been immortalized as the great romantic antihero. Nothing like a brooding bad boy to make one’s toes curl and a hand reach under one’s panties. The sensation of his lips still lingered, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, followed by a shudder of disgust.
It was the most intense kiss I’d ever experiencedin my life.I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d readWuthering Heightsenough times to know that Heathcliff loved and hated with equal intensity. The way he spoke of his love for Cathy—
Cathy.
My harsh words and secret fears flooded back to me. Heathcliff left the book after he discovered Cathy planned to marry Linton. He never lived through her death. He’d never had to lose her. Which meant that in the back of his head – no matter how he felt about me or how many of those heart-stopping kisses we shared – the thought would linger thatmaybeshe would come out of the book, too, andmaybein this world he could save their relationship, and they could have their happy ending and he wouldn’t become Heathcliff the psychopath.
He had the advantage of being able to read into the future and see all the mistakes he’d made. He got a do-over. If it came down to it, if he had to choose between me and Cathy, then of course he’d choose her. Of course. CathywasHeathcliff.
That’s why he stopped the kiss, that’s why he said all those things to me, because I’m nothing but a distraction to him.
I pushed my chair back. “Darren, I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”
“But you didn’t finish your drink!” Darren tapped his pad. “I wanted to get your notes about Ashley’s favorite beers to add to my Instagram. I started one, you know, inspired by her, to become an influencer in the craft beer space.”
“You know what? It sounds like you knew Ashley better than I did.” I grabbed my jacket. “I’m sorry, Darren, I have to go.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ihardly slept all night, playing that kiss over and over again and getting angrier and angrier. Heathcliff hadno right. He didn’t evenlikeme. He griped and grumped and groaned whenever I spoke. He kissed me for one purpose only – to shut me up, to distract me from the occult books and whatever secret he didn’t want me to figure out.
And yet, Quoth’s words stuck in my head. “You should embrace the chaos. It’s okay to not know what you want.“
Iwantedthe Heathcliff of the books, but who wasmyHeathcliff?
The next morning I emerged, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen. Mum slumped over the table, frowning as she punched holes into the calculator. “Did you get paid this week, love? I’m a little light on rent money while I build my sustainable business.”
“I thought you sold two wobblelators yesterday?”
“Idid, but the profit on the first forty units goes toward paying off the cost my of order. As soon as I’ve sold thirty-eight more, we’ll be rolling in dough.”
“If you say so, Mum.” I filled the toaster with bread and pushed it down. “Heathcliff hasn’t paid me yet.”
“Well, get it off him today, would you? There’s a good girl.” She handed me the peanut butter. “I’ll pay you back as soon as my wobbling business takes off.”
Great.Now not only did I have to work in the same silent bookshop as Heathcliff after our kiss, but I had to ask him for money.
On the way to Nevermore Bookshop, I stopped by the bakery for our usual coffees. I added some croissants and date scones to the order. Might as well butter him up with actual butter. While I waited in line for the croissants to be toasted, Jo walked through the door, her purple Docs trampling mud onto the mat. “Good morning, Greta. I’ll have my usual, thanks, and a coffee to go. I’ve got a fresh corpse on the way—”
She stopped short as her eyes met mine. She bowed her head and hurried to the other side of the room, bending down to stare at her phone screen, every pore of her body broadcasting the fact she didn’t want to talk to me.
My heart plummeted. What happened to us having a coffee when she got back from London?
I knew what happened.Professional distance.The police had some new evidence. They now saw me as the chief suspect.
