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She shook her head, not ready to let him go. She’d never be ready. But he couldn’t see her and she couldn’t speak over the lump in her throat.
“Happy birthday, Kelly,” he said softly. Then he hung up.
For a long time, she didn’t move from that spot. In a sense, she had closure. He cared about her. In some small way, he cared. But that didn’t mean they were well-suited. At least she had amazing memories to cling to.
And weep over.
Eventually, she went downstairs to her mailbox. She didn’t pay much attention to the stack of bills, but the small box sent overnight mail caught her eye. No return address. Could be a birthday gift, she supposed, though she’d already had her fill of those.
She tore open the end of the package and shook the contents into her palm. At first she just stared. Then the tears she’d fought broke through, obscuring the object she gripped in her hand.
Her PDA.
Chapter Seventeen
Three months later
Delaney’s Furniture, a sprawling store the size of a full city block, was a place Spencer had avoided entering on sheer principle. He wasn’t a fan of shopping, especially furniture shopping. The pieces in his house he’d picked up through various catalogs over the years, not really caring what they looked like together.
Except his bookcases. Those had to be just right, so he’d had them specially made. But in general? He just wanted a rug, a couch, a bed. He wasn’t a designer. He was a bookseller.
Or he had been until a few hours ago. Maybe he would be again.
Right now, his whole life hinged on a whole lot of maybes.
Prior biases aside, he acknowledged the store was attractive and understated. Almost homey, if you aspired to live in an old-fashioned painting. Subtle violin music greeted him as soon as he opened the frosted glass door but he barely noticed it as he climbed the sloped entrance to the showroom floor. Colorful artwork adorned the walls and the hardwood floors reflected the spills of light from the endless array of ornate lamps. They were even giving away little cups of fancy coffee.
He didn’t want coffee in a thumb-sized cup. Though he was tempted to grab one off the table near the door, just to wet his throat. He probably couldn’t have swallowed it anyway. Too much rode on this coming out the way he needed it to and he’d never been the best closer. What had occurred this afternoon was evidence enough.
But that was the past. And this wasn’t a fight he could lose.
“May I help you, sir?” A coiffed blonde glided up to him, clipboard in hand.
“Yes. I need a bed. A really big one.”
She didn’t blink. “Wonderful. I’m Corinne. Let me show you to our Bedroom Essentials area.”
“Fab.” He slipped his hands in his pockets and jingled his change. It wasn’t as good as pacing, but it would have to do for the time being.
He followed Corinne, his gaze on every face he passed. Th
is was a classy place. How would management react if a screaming fight broke out amongst the box springs and mattresses? Just because he’d come prepared to deal didn’t mean he’d be met with a warm reception.
He almost anticipated a fight. Anything to banish the whitewash that had descended over his world.
God, he missed her. Nothing in his life had seemed right since she’d left it.
They walked forever, winding around sectionals and cozy room groupings arranged near fake fireplaces complete with cardboard cutouts of flames. Finally he saw the bedroom section, which looked mercifully deserted. Delaney’s had just copped its first break of the evening.
“So you said you’d like a big bed. Do you have a preferred brand or—”
“I’ll just look myself,” he interrupted. “Thanks.”
“Oh, but—”
“Thank you,” he said firmly, turning away.
“If you need help, I’ll be up front. Take your time.”
