A crowded store. A clumsy moment. A stranger in a hoodie because it’s Vermont and everyone owns at least six of them.
I finish shopping, but the rhythm is off now. My awareness stays a notch too high, like I’m waiting for something else to happen.
But nothing does.
By the time I check out, I’ve convinced myself it was nothing worth remembering.
I still can’t shake the unease.
As I walk outside and hand the bags to my driver, I glance back through the automatic doors.
The produce section is visible from here. It’s bright. Busy. Empty of anything unusual, like the guy who bumped into me.
I climb into the car, and my driver shuts the door.
I sigh, leaning back into the seat. It’s probably stress. I’ve been neglecting my schoolwork in favor of spending time with Sebastian and writing my novel.
On the drive home, I decide it’s not worth mentioning to Sebastian. There’s nothing to tell. Someone bumped into me. My basket was knocked over. A stranger apologized.
When I get home and start putting groceries away, I realize one of the apples is gone.
I check the floor and counter, but it’s not there. I double-check the grocery bags. Empty.
I stare at the counter, frowning. I was sure I’d counted them. It probably rolled under one of the produce bins, and I didn’t realize it.
I shake my head, toss the thought aside, and keep moving.
It’s one missing apple. I’m not about to start making a big deal out of a grocery store mishap.
43
IVY
Sebastian seemed fine by the time he returned home from work. Drew and Mr. Pickles staged a dinner fiasco that had me crying with laughter. Drew accidentally kicked the cat under the table. Mr. Pickles retaliated by jumping on Drew’s crotch with claws bared, tearing through his thin sweatpants. Drew hit a soprano note with his yelling while I wheezed with laughter and Sebastian tried to hide his laughter, shooting Drew sympathetic looks.
“Damn cat’s trying to kill me,” Drew muttered.
I laughed harder, earning a nasty glare from him. Mr. Pickles purred and climbed onto my lap, the picture of innocence.
“Black demon,” Drew muttered darkly, pointing at Mr. Pickles. The cat responded by hissing and batting at his finger.
I fell asleep on the couch with Sebastian rubbing my feet and the cat curled on my chest.
By the next morning,I’d forgotten about Sebastian’s strange obsession with the mat and door locks, as well as the grocery store incident.
After Sebastian left for work, I went into the office and began studying.
By noon, my stomach is rumbling, and I’m in desperate need of caffeine. I call Thomas and ask him to drive me to the café. I plan to check out the bookstore and stop by Sebastian’s office afterward.
Thomas shows up to drive me into the city. We make idle conversation. Normally, Thomas isn’t one to gossip, but he shares that Elizabeth and my dad were over at the house two nights ago. I smile broadly, glad Elizabeth is coming around. My dad and I can be very convincing. Or maybe we just wear people down until they’re too tired to fight us.
He drops me off in front of the café. I promise I’ll only be a few minutes.
The bell above the door jingles as I step inside, and warmth rushes over me—physical and emotional. The café smells like sugar and steam and burnt espresso in a way that always makes me feel like things are about to be okay. I catch a whiff of a club sandwich and fries and decide to order one, too.
Aaron looks up from behind the counter and grins like I just made his day.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite almost regular,” he says. “Where have you been hiding?”
