She says it anyway. “Bess.”
“Bess what?” Then, with a rush of heat and the clamping of my stomach walls, I understand. Or think I understand. “I’m not writing Bess a love letter!”
Mistral rolls her eyes. "No. You should givethis oneto Bess."
Her suggestion is no less mortifying. I swivel my computer chair around to face her squarely so I can eye her for three meaningful seconds. "I'm not giving this to Bess."
"She'll love it."
"You give it to her, then."
"It would be better coming from you."
"No."
"It's just the kind of romantic gesture that'll turn her head."
"Still no."
Mistral quirks her lips to one side. After a beat, she says, "Okidokes," and takes the letter out of my hand. "I'll look after it until you change your mind."
"I'm not going to change my mind."
She loads the trolley with the next lot of books to be shelved.
Feeling like she's carrying a loaded gun, I reluctantly turn my back on her and open up the library management system.
"It's Tuesday today, right?"
I don't bother to answer. I feel like this question might carry the same weight as her taking the safety off said gun.
"Bess brings you a coffee and an almond croissant on a Tuesday. Your payday treat, which we basically all know you do to have an excuse to see her."
Once again I turn in my chair to face her. "What's this 'we' and 'everyone' business? As much as it doesn't always please my ego, I know very well that I am the centre of precisely one person's universe." I add, "Mine," in case it needs pointing out. "And on occasion my parents'."
Mistral turns from her task and beams at me. "Wouldn't you like to be the centre of Bess'?"
Bess appears behind Mistral, coffee and bagged croissant in hand. "Centre of my what?"
Well. Shit.
Still looking at me, Mistrals' eyes go wide, but her smile remains in place.
I purse my lips and look up at her from under my brows to convey what I hope says, "I very dare you".
"The...centre of your attention," says Mistral and turns to face Bess. "Actually."
I know I'm meant to be Mistral's manager, but Mistral often proves very slippery around her contractual obligation to be managed.
"He's often the centre of my attention. He doesn't need to wish for it." Bess puts the coffee and pastry on the front desk. "You feel like I don't give you enough quality time, Ed?"
"Mistral has books that need shelving. Don't you, Mistral?"
Without looking away from Bess, Mistral says, "Yes, I do, Ed. And I will shelve them imminently. But first, Ed has something to give you, Bess."
Remember when I said Mistral is like a sprite? Let me refine that statement. What I actually meant was "Mistral is like one of the interfering, shit-stirring, fairy folk".
"No, Ed doesn't," I say.
