He inhales to say something, then stops himself. His gaze drops back to his laptop, and there it stays for the next couple of hours. I almost tell him to stop working. I mean, if the shop is closing I’m hardly going to need a website. But he’s doing it for his portfolio, so I guess it will be useful to him. Plus, as much as I hate to admit this, a tiny part of me is comforted by having him here.
Weird.
I spend the next few hours working on another design, helping customers, making a couple of sales but nothing big. I can feel Myles watching me when I talk with customers and show them clothes, when I joke with a couple about an outrageous eighties pantsuit. I know he’s gathering information for the site, so I don’t mind. And the truth is, I’m starting to realize that I like him. Not likethat, obviously, but he’s a much nicer guy than I originally thought. For the first time, my snap judgments about a person might have been wrong.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say after a while.
He looks up, blinking as his eyes adjust from staring at the screen. “Do you want me to go?”
I gaze at him for a moment and smile. “No. I’m just saying, if you want—”
“I’m happy working here.” He shrugs, smiling too.
“Do you want a coffee, or something?”
“Sure, thanks.”
I hover for a second, debating whether or not I should go and buy him something decent. I’m trying to save money, but he is here doing me a favor. “Is instant okay? Otherwise I could—”
“Instant is fine,” he says, and I feel a little spasm of relief.
“Okay. Back in a sec.” I wander down the steep steps to the basement, surprised to find myself feeling lighter. I don’t know why; I mean, my business is probably about to fold. Maybe it’s the whole problem shared thing. Or maybe it’s because someone is here, helping me, even though I’m sinking.
Whatever it is, I can’t stop the smile pushing at my lips as I make two cups of coffee.
9
My good mood doesn’t last long. Because as I climb back up the stairs I discover Mark, lurking beside the counter.
Great. Just who I feel like seeing. Still, it’s been a few days. I’m overdue for a visit.
“I asked if I could help him,” Myles says, eyes glued to his laptop. “But he said he was here for you.”
“Thanks.” I set our coffees down on the counter and turn to Mark. “Hi,” I say warily. “Why are you here? Raising the rent again?”
He draws in a breath with exaggerated patience. “I came to see if you’d signed the new lease agreement.”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
His eyebrows slant together. “Well, the rent is going up next month, either way.”
“I understand,” I say, gritting my teeth.
His gaze travels over Myles and he extends a hand. “I’m Mark.”
Myles glances up, eying Mark’s hand before reluctantly offering his own. “Myles.” Then his eyes fall straight back down to his screen.
Mark gives me a strange look, mouthing, “Who’s he?”
“He’s my web guy,” I say casually. I can tell by the ticking muscle in Mark’s jaw that he’s irritated, and I feel a swell of satisfaction. “He’s redoing the site. It’sreallyawful.”
Mark looks indignant. It didn’t occur to me that redoing the website might annoy him—since he made the last one—but that is a fun little bonus.
I glance down at Mark’s feet. “You didn’t bring Stevie?”
He huffs, turning toward the door. “Mel has her. Hold on.”
There’s a chill down my spine. Mel’s here? Fuck. I thought seeing Mark was bad, butshe’sthe last person I want to see.
