Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I shake my head so hard that it nearly rolls right off my shoulders. I have no idea why that face of all faces would come so clearly to me. I mean, I know why, but it’s annoying. Normally, I can keep those stuff buried, and actually, I’ve just reached the point where I don’t think about the hurt anymore because I did get something wonderful out of that heartbreak. When I look at Milo, all I see is love even though he has the same dark hair and gray eyes.
Suddenly, the soft tinkle of the bell at the door chimes behind me.
I freeze like I’ve just been caught licking icing off the edge of a cake in a spot where I think no one would ever see it. That’s something he used to do. Holy cakes, he loved cakes. He had an abnormal obsession with cakes.
That thought tears through my brain with absolutely no subtlety at all while my heart kicks up for no reason. I haven’t even turned yet. I should be hustling to the back to get this bracelet off and back in the bag. What if whoever owns it is at the door early?
Fried bananas with whipped cream on pancakes, of course they’d be early. That’s just my luck.
“I’ll be right with you,” I call out as I slowly edge my way along the display counter, closer and closer to the back. I keep myself turned away, just in case.
It’s just a few more steps. Just a few. One, two, three, four—just another six or so, and I’ll be there. Then I can get the dirty wrist grabber off my wrist and back safely into the purple bag. I imagine myself smiling, thanking whoever is out there for thinking of my store and choosing me, and telling them what an honor it was to handle such a beautiful piece, especially since antique jewelry is one of the great loves of my life. People like it when I say it that way. As though I’ve had a great many loves.
In reality, I’ve only ever had one.
Argh! Get out of my head!
How is it possible that I can go for months and months without even thinking about him, but now, my head is all over the place with thoughts I can’t control or relegate to the dungeons of my mind? After all, he’s nothing more than this abstract idea I usually immediately dismiss because I force it to be that way.
“Take your time. I’m not in a rush.”
I freeze, and my heart nearly explodes out of my chest. A volley of goosebumps pricks at my skin while my nipples just about slice through the black lace blouse I’m wearing. I suppose that’s what happens when the past hits you all at once. Brick wall, meet my face.
I whirl because it can’t be. It. Can’t. Be.
But even before I get all the way around, the instant I inhale a steady breath, it’s full of cloves and spice, expensive sandalwood, and undertones that smell like a freshly peeled orange.
It can’t be, but it is. Once, he was in my heart. This morning, he was in my head. And now, he’s here. In my store. Where he absolutely doesn’t belong because this is my domain. It’s my space, my life, and my work. There isn’t any room in it for him. Anymore. There isn’t any room for him anymore.
Those gray eyes—the color of a stormy slate sky right before it opens up and pelts drenching rain down—hit me full force. For a moment, I’m overwhelmed with a sense of loss connected directly to the past. It’s like being hit full force with a brick wall again, one that came out of nowhere because I had my head down as I ran straight into the bloody thing. Then, panic. That’s what that wall is. I shove it back down, swallowing and breathing hard to regain control of myself. What do people say they do? Find a calm, happy place? I guess I try and do that. I compartmentalize the panic into an imaginary chest and slap a lock on. Those chests are then buried deep inside me. They’re rather useful, a great tool to help me sleep at night.
I open my mouth to say his name, but no sound comes out. Those gray orbs sweep to my wrist and widen. His whole face is rugged, like the side of a sexy mountain—the kind of mountain that comes complete with thick forests at the base and is home to mountain goats, bears, and wolves. I used to know every crag, cranny, goat, wolf, and bear that belonged on that mountain—even every tree. Okay, maybe that’s taking things too far. The point is, I once had every bit of his face memorized, and it hasn’t changed. I watch his lips part. Lips that once had every bit of my body memorized, lips that could subdue me with a single kiss, and lips that created my world and destroyed it, then gave it all back to me again without him even knowing it.