That this woman, who had spent years being made small by a man who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her, had chosenme. Chosenus.
And anyone who thought they could compete with my devotion was welcome to try.
We finished eating. She talked about the bookshop rebuild, about shelving arrangements and whether to add a café section in the back. I listened, because listening to her was what I did best, and offered three-word responses at intervals that made her roll her eyes and keep going.
The bill arrived. I paid as we finished our meal.
Mira slid out of the booth. “You’re right about the pancakes, by the way.”
“And also because you’ve eaten enough of Percy’s food that anything will be immaculate.”
She laughed again as we headed to the door. I followed, pocketing the receipt, aware of the device in my other pocket, the silver still faintly warm through the handkerchief.
Outside, the morning had brightened. The parking lot was quieter now, the breakfast rush winding down. Mira walked three steps ahead of me, arms swinging, that copper hair catching the light.
She stopped at the truck and turned.
“You’re still grumpy.”
“I told you. I’m not.”
“Your jaw has been clenched since Martinez said hi. It hasn’t unclenched. You’re not the only observant one here.” She tilted her head, studying me. Her gaze was thorough enough to make my pulse pick up. “You know, most people would find the jealousy annoying.”
My jaw tightened further, which undermined my position considerably.
“But on you?” She stepped closer. Close enough that her scent hit me full force. I felt my skin getting heated. “It’s kind of endearing.”
I did not have a response for that. This woman had rendered me wordless despite my usual articulate deflection.
Mira rose on her toes.
Her lips pressed against my cheek. Soft, brief, warm. The contact lasted two seconds at most, a featherweight touch.
Every nerve ending in my body fired at once.
She dropped back to her heels. Looked up at me with a smile that was equal parts affection and mischief. The quiet confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she’d just done.
“For the record,” she said, “you never have to worry about anyone else. Not Martinez, not anyone.” Her hand found my chest, palm flat over my heart, and I went perfectly still.
“You’re my favorite grump.”
She turned and walked around to the passenger side of the truck.
I stood in the parking lot with her kiss burning on my cheek and my heartbeat hammering against the palm print she’d left on my chest. The silver device pulsed in my pocket, a reminder that the world outside this moment was dangerous and closing in.
But she’d called me endearing.
Nothing else mattered.
23
— • —
Mira
The bookshop was coming back to life.
I stood in the center of the main room and turned in a slow circle, letting the potential of the space settle into my chest. The last time I’d been here, I’d been stepping over ash and charred paperbacks with Solomon beside me, mourning a life that Hudson had burned to the ground.
