He’d never seen Crowdwell’s this empty on a Sunday night. The sight of the empty room as Daniel tidied up for closing almost proved cathartic, in its own way. The place was as barren as he felt. Where there used to be music, now there was silence. Fitting.
As much as he could, he found himself avoiding the places where he and Sam used to be. The ghosts of her were everywhere, in the stacks where he’d pinned her for hot, fantasy-inducing kisses, in the farthest window where she used to stand and people-watch, in her favorite chair where he’d pull her into his lap and beg her to go on stage and sing with him, which always earned him the same rebuke.You wouldn’t catch me dead up on that stage. He’d even confined himself to the strictest, smallest corners of his other job so as to never catch sight of her. For a while, these tactics worked. He should have known it wouldn’t last.
“Are you all right, Danny Boy?” Nan asked from behind the coffee counter as Daniel restocked the last of the paperbacks.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Come here.”
“Gotta close up, Nan.”
“Your old grandmother dragged her old bones to make you a cup of tea and now you’re going to let it go cold?”
Dammit. The guilt trip always worked. Closing his eyes to hide an eye roll, he gave in.
“…No ma’am.”
“Good. Now, sit.”
He moved, as he had been since That Night, as if through a jar of honey. When he finally sat across from his grandmother, he took the teacup in his hands, hoping for its warmth to radiate through. Daniel answered her questioning looks with a long sip of too-strong stuff. Sam always knew how to make the perfect cup of tea. Just enough milk to turn the color and one sugar. And there he went again, thinking about her.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Nan asked, after a torturous moment of silence.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I asked you a question.”
I said I’m doing fine, he wanted to snap. But as soon as his mouth opened to form the words, his head dropped into his hands, as if the weight of his jaw dragged his entire skull down with it. He’d been so successful at hiding his emotions behind bulletproof glass. But one crack took the entire facade down with it. “Miserable, Nan.”
Speaking the truth didn’t feel nearly as liberating as he thought it would.
“Why?”
“Why? You told half of Oxford what happened to me and you’ve forgotten?”
“No.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Whyare you still miserable?”
“Because I miss her.”
The truth was out before he could contain it.
“Ah.”
“No.” He shook his head, wishing for a time machine to take him back and keep him from admitting it. “That’s not what I…”
But one of Nan’s slightly wrinkled hands covered his own, bringing him back down to earth.
“You’re miserable because you need each other.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Not only did henotsay that, but it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. How could they need each other when they’d been nothing but a lie?
“You didn’t have to. It’s incredible, you know. You’ve turned into each other. One heartbreak and you’ve given up on love and she’s just starting to believe in it.”
“I haven’t given up on love.”
Liar, his conscience whispered.
