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He choked on a breath and went perfectly still for a second, then grabbed another sporefruit as my heart gave a mighty thud.
“Little old ladies,” he finished in a strangled voice. “Love ’em.”
My mouth had gone dry. Licking my lips, I managed to get out, “You love little old ladies, huh?”
“Yeah. Yep. I think they’re great. Awesome at telling long-winded stories and always having gross hard candy in their purses.”
I laughed, but my heart was still pounding. Had he really been about to say…
“I think my mom’s texted me back.” Greid seemed grateful for the distraction as he fumbled with his phone in his coat pocket. I stepped closer, peering down at the screen as he opened his messages and spotting the text he’d sent her.
Mom, do you put rutabaga in your porin?
Beneath it was her reply. Rutabaga? I’m not a lunatic, Greid.
Then another one. How’s Beryl?
And another. When are you both coming for dinner?
And another. Your Aunt Indi was here yesterday showing me her new glasses and it reminded me, when was the last time you got your eyes checked? You know I worry about how much you strain your eyes for work, kushka. Which also reminds me, Kiti saw one of your pieces in a magazine at work. She tore the page out for me. Why didn’t you tell me??? Must I find out about my son’s success through a bloody gossip magazine, Greid??
“Fuck, I opened the floodgates,” Greid muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He quickly typed out a reply.
sorry mom love you!!!xxxx
I huffed. “You didn’t even answer her questions!”
“She’ll call me later.” He stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “If I answer any of them now, she’ll send five more.”
I laughed and nudged his arm. “Well, at least you were a good son and told her you love her.”
I cringed the moment I said it. Nice going, Beryl, way to make it awkward again. Greid coughed and ducked his head.
“We should see if there are any other sporefruits in here.” He was suddenly in a hurry to get moving, his ears fluttering madly as he speedwalked away and almost knocked over a display of stained-glass lamps. “Fuck.”
I trailed after him, pulse jumping in my throat. “Greid…”
“Shit.” He stopped so suddenly I bumped into his back. “Look,” he hissed as I shuffled around to stand beside him. “There’s one right there. The little old lady found it.”
I followed his gaze to see an elderly demiurgus lady in a thick puffer coat peering at a big fruit bowl hand-painted with nightberries. Beside it on the shelf was another sporefruit sculpture—a single white mushroom, its cap domed and dripping with delicate black droplets.
“She’s not even looking at it,” I whispered, trying to push past the chaotic thoughts swirling in my brain. Just enjoy the day. Forget it happened. Forget that the best person you’ve ever met might have been about to tell you he loves you.
“It’s only a matter of time before she spots it.” Greid handed me the basket. “I’m going in.”
“Wait,” I hissed. Once he’d turned back to look at me, I tried to keep a straight face. “Are you going to fight her or seduce her for it, little-old-lady-lover?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Haven’t decided yet.”
I snorted and gestured for him to go ahead, trying not to laugh as he crept forward as if he planned on robbing the unsuspecting lady, who still wasn’t even looking at the sporefruit sculpture. My heart had slowed, but it still felt heavy. Full.
I’d gotten through a lot of shit in my life, but as I watched my demiurgus slyly reach around the lady’s head to snatch the sporefruit sculpture off the shelf, then shoot me a thumbs up behind her back, I knew I wouldn’t get through losing him.
Chapter Forty-Four
Beryl
The following Monday was grey and overcast, but I forced myself to make the journey to Upper Birch after my shift at work.
