Page 32 of Unforgettable

“Perfect.” She squeals in excitement. “Tell me what your work schedule is looking like, and we’ll set a date.”

“Okay. I’ll send it through as soon as I have it.”

“Love you, Reevey,” she croons.

“Love you. Tell Poppy I said bye and I can’t wait to see her.”

If it’s possible, I feel even happier after hanging up. The thought of my sister and niece coming to visit here gives me an extra pep in my step.

Just as I’m about to step into Vino and Veritas, the back door flies open and an angry looking Oz bursts through the door.

On instinct, I take a step back, shocked to see this side of him.

“Hey,” I greet cautiously.

Surprised to see me, or anyone, he attempts a smile, but it falls flat.

“What’s wrong?” I question.

“Nothing,” he says abruptly.

“You can just say I don’t want to talk about it,” I retort.

“Okay. I don’t want to talk about it,” he bites back, only to retreat very quickly. “Shit, Reeve. I’m so sorry.”

I put both my hands up in surrender. “It’s fine,” I lie. “I’ve got to go in, I’m going to be late.”

I don’t give him a chance to say anything else, and if he tries, I don’t hear it. We all have bad days, I know that, and his curt tone isn’t what throws me off.

There’s something about seeing Oz so wound up and off kilter that makes me madforhim and notathim. I want to hold him close and make sure someone so happy and full of life isn’t ever anything else but happy and full of life.

It’s a clear sign that I’m maybe in too deep, because I shouldn’t be so rattled by my “friend” hurting.

But he has so much to offer. So much to offer everyone. I wish he knew that. I wish he could see that in himself. And telling him isn’t an option, because I’m not opening doors on feelings that need to stay behind closed ones.

Walking away from him and through Vino and Veritas, I head to the register for the bookstore and find Briar waiting for me.

“Hey.”

“Hey, how’s it been today?”

“Not too busy,” he answers. “Which I want to say is a bad thing, but I’ve been sneaking in pages of the new Sarina Bowen book and I have no regrets.”

I throw my hands out in a give it to me gesture. “We finally got those paperbacks in? I’ve been dying to read the next book in the series.”

“It’s so good,” he gloats. “I don’t even want to leave, because then I’ll have to stop to make my way home.”

I want to be surprised, but I know that feeling, and I know it well. The same way I’ve stayed up till early hours of the morning, because doing anything else but getting to the end of a book was not an option.

“What are you reading now?” he asks. “I might start it when I finish this.”

“Madeline Miller,” I answer.

“Oh no,” he says. “Crying is not on the agenda this week.”

The bell signaling entrance into the store rings and we both stop our conversation and stare as the customer walks in.

“I’m going to see if they need help.” I tell him. “If there’s anything pressing that needs to be done, just make sure you write it down for me before you go.”

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