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She walks away, less bounce in her step than normal.
I begin the hunt, starting in the men’s section. Anything to get my mind off the couple and what’s running through Paige’s mind. After searching for more than half an hour, I come up empty, so I go to find her. She’s sitting on a stained green love seat in a corner of the store. Her body rocks as she scans a comic book on her lap, chewing a thin strand of her hair.
I sink down beside her. “Sorry. I couldn’t find that brand. Something else I can look for?”
She shakes her head weakly, focused on the comic. She’s right next to me, but she feels a million miles away. Not because she’s reading. It’s like she slipped into a dark recess of her mind and can’t find the light.
Not thinking, I touch her shoulder. “Hey, is ev—”
She jerks away, startled, the comic fluttering.
Fuck. Amber told me not to touch Paige without warning. Always ask. Then she told me to forget that since there’s no reason I should ever need to touch Paige.
“Sorry,” I say. “You look like something’s wrong.”
She shakes her head again.
My body slumps. Why am I even asking? She obviously doesn’t want to open up. Why would she? I’m a guy she’s known for maybe two weeks, and she’s happier hooking up with coffee shop baristas. Like that’s a manly job description. I need to stop caring. The women around me prefer I not get involved in their lives. Which is what I want, isn’t it? Freedom.
“Well, I’m going to see what exercise equipment they have,” I say.
When I stand, she touches my arm.
I sink back into the love seat, giving her time to continue.
My fists clench. What heartless asshole pawns someone else’s stuff? This ex of hers is a real piece of work. “If you want my help, we can go get your things.” I would love to meet this ex of hers. I won’t hold back like I did with Josh.
She closes the comic and stands, tossing it on the love seat.
They? Who are ‘they’? I’m confused even more about her past. I want to ask, but she looks too sad. “I guess,” I say. I picture her as a happy little girl, running around to different shops for comic books, tucking her finds under the bed or on a bookshelf. Some prick—they—took that away from her for a quick buck.
She stands, wiping a hand on her thigh.
We head to the register, and a female cashier scans Paige’s items. The woman keeps glancing at us from the corner of her eye. “You look familiar,” she finally says.
I point at my chest. “Me?”
The cashier scans a coffee mug. “Well, no. I guess her. You come in here a lot?”
Paige nods.
“How often?”
Paige shrugs.
The woman scans the last item. “Ninety-nine oh three.”
Paige grins and slaps a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.
Before returning the change, the woman studies Paige with hard eyes. “I just started here a few weeks ago. That’s not why you’re familiar. There was a man in here the other day. Said he was looking for a woman. The description was pretty much like you. Super long hair. Said she’s special needs and talks through her phone. Can’t take care of herself.”
Paige’s complexion pales, and she forces a weak smile.
“I think he left a picture.” The woman lifts a phone receiver and hits a button. “Hey, Charlie, can you—”
I laugh and step forward. Then I lean in close to Paige and whisper, “I’m going to touch you.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder. She doesn’t flinch this time, only relaxes against me as I squeeze. “What a crazy coincidence,” I say to the cashier. “We’ve lived together for two years and are getting married soon.”
